ã€ŠThe Warrioréˆ¥æªš Balladã€‹


 Chapter 1

    Chapter 1 ¨C Prologue

    Trantor: Willia

    Fire and steel, blood, and death. If I were to summarize my life in a few words, it would be these.

    I originally worked as a shepherd in the northern part of the Empire, in Heiden. Like many people of this era, I was one of the numerous orphans who didn¡¯t know their parents.

    I don¡¯t know since when I started shepherding, but for ten years, I lived almostpletely cut off from the world, moving here and there across the fields of Heiden, feeding the sheep.

    Just as colorful flowers bloom in the fields with the changing seasons, stars would bloom abundantly in the ck night sky. In summer, a cool breeze would blow, and in winter, snow would fall, covering the world.

    I had no greed, didn¡¯t know what boredom was, wasn¡¯t happy, nor was I unhappy.

    Just as stars shine at night, flowers bloom in the fields, and snow falls in winter, I simply lived my life as a shepherd.

    Then one day, something special happened in the ce where the same things repeated every day. A lord rode a horse across the fields of Heiden.

    I knelt down, and he, standing high with the sun like a halo behind him, smiled and spoke.

    ¡°Shepherd, how old are you?¡±

    ¡°I do not know my birth date, so I cannot say. I have been shepherding for ten years.¡±

    ¡°Then you must be at least 15 years old? Shouldn¡¯t you get married?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know any women.¡±

    ¡°The Vige Chief will arrange it for you. Live happily. You who are like a star.¡±

    With those words, the lord rode across the fields and disappeared suddenly like scattering clouds.

    Not long after, I indeed married a young widow from the vige, arranged by the Vige Chief.

    After having a wife, I became a miller in the vige instead of a shepherd, and just as the lord had said, I came to know happiness for the first time in my life.

    A few more years passed, and one day, a cavalryman carrying a red g came to the vige.

    He said he was recruiting men to go on an eastern expedition. I was chosen by drawing lots among the strong men in the vige.

    I told my wife I would definitely return and to not worry about living as I would send wages until then.

    I wandered here and there, following the cavalryman. With a few people joining us in each vige we passed, we endlessly headed east.

    Day after day, week after week, more than a month passed as we headed east like autumn leaves drifting down a river.

    The eastern expedition site was like and of steel and corpses surrounded by forests. When I first arrived, I never dreamed I would end up staying there for 10 years.

    If someone were to ask me where I learned to use a sword, I would answer: in war.

    Stabbing, shing, hacking. I¡¯d say I was trained by the hostility of barbarians, courage I didn¡¯t know I had, by the sacrifices of myrades, and the luck of arrows grazing my cheeks.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Thomas?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡±

    ¡°Damn it, what about Falke?¡±

    ¡°This morning.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    We had good days once in a while, but most days were tough. Ufortable beds, moldy bread, dying from disease, dying from infected wounds, being eaten by monsters, being dragged away, skinned and hung up by barbarians.

    At night, soldiers who had nightmares or trembled with anxiety were no different from babies. They seemed to need a mother rather than harsh senior soldiers or sternmanders.

    One day, I realized that everyone I knew from the first day had died and I was the only one left.

    I had survived more than dozens of times on the front lines, where 70% of the soldiers died or were severely injured. Why haven¡¯t I died? It feels like it¡¯s time to die.

    Myrades would jokingly, sometimes seriously, call me ¡°Lucky¡± Ricky. They said they felt like they would survive if I were by their side. However, none of therades I grew close to survived.

    My firstmander was the second son of a count. He was a very brave young man with a cheerful personality who often led the soldiers charging on horseback when battles broke out.

    To be honest, in this horrible war, following him into battle sometimes felt refreshing and fun.

    But that brave young man died in his fourth battle, falling from his horse.

    The secondmander was a man who was afraid of enemies but cruel to his own men.

    Even when we needed to go out and fight while defending our base, he only wanted to stay inside and defend.

    If anyone gathered the courage to say this wasn¡¯t right, they would get beaten. After seeing arade suffer a severe beating and slowly die, I kept my mouth shut. I was a coward.

    We were besieged and, after days of starvation, we lost our position to the barbarians who led trained trolls in a massive attack.

    I fought to the end, ready to die, but seeing our ipetentmander grabbed by a troll, have his arm ripped off while still alive, and his head torn off and eaten.

    Fleeing from a lost battle left few options. If I didn¡¯t want to starve to death, I had to go to the rendezvous point. But even getting there wasn¡¯t easy.

    When I finally reached the rendezvous point after killing the pursuing barbarians, I was alone. Everyone else had died, either from starvation, being eaten by monsters, or being captured by the pursuers.

    At the rendezvous point, I was assigned to the unit led by Caldebert, the fourth prince of the Adeloron Royal Family.

    Caldebert had the appearance of a noble schr. Beautiful blond hair, a somewhat delicate body that seemed barely able to handle the weight of chainmail.

    He was ordered by themander to recapture our lost position. Because of this, he asked me many things about the terrain, the situation, and the characteristics of the barbarians.

    For some reason, maybe because we were around the same age, I got along well with Caldebert. We quickly became close, despite the vast difference in our social status.

    He liked listening to stories about my hometown and patiently heard about my boring and peaceful shepherd life.

    ¡°Ricky, you have the qualities of a poet. Listening to your stories brings peace to my mind even in this brutal ce. I thought all northerners were rough.¡±

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t even know how to read or write.¡±

    ¡°How do you think the first songs were created?¡±

    His way of speaking was quite refined. Sometimes, thenguage used by nobles sounded like a foreignnguage.

    When preparations wereplete, Caldebert led the unit to recapture the front-line position. I participated in the battle as well.

    Caldebert was the bestmander. He was thorough and meticulous when nning, and brave during actualbat.

    He made bold decisions, risking encirclement to prate deep into the enemy lines, hitting their rear and pushing them back before taking them down one by one to achieve victory.

    But the barbarians, having reimed the position after almost ten years, fought with desperate determination to keep it.

    Caldebert¡¯s strategy was also a gamble, and retreating would put us at greater risk, so he couldn¡¯t withdraw.

    Both sides fought with all their might, leading to a truly fierce battle. Limbs dangling without beingpletely severed, corpses piled like mountains,rge amounts of blood, cries of agony, and soldiers calling for their mothers with theirst breaths.

    Amidst all this, Caldebert fought tirelessly. When he was in danger of dying, I fought with all my might to save him.

    But as I grabbed the nape of his neck to lift him up after he fell, a thunderous shout was heard.

    ¡°Iron Reaper Ricky! I challenge you to a duel! Let¡¯s end this war here, between you and me!¡±

    The one who suddenly appeared and challenged me to a duel was Vesprim, a legendary warrior among the barbarians. He was known among the Imperial army by the nickname ¡°Meat Grinder¡±.

    He was twice the height and size of an average person, covered in iron armor from head to toe, including his head and face. He wore dozens of severed Imperial soldiers¡¯ ears strung together like a ne. Skulls with bits of flesh still clinging to them dangled from his waist belt.

    Hisrge axe had a broad de but securely fastened to its handle, and was infamous for chopping people into pieces in one strike.

    Both Ricky and Vesprim had only heard of each other through battlefield rumors, and this was their first meeting directly.

    Perhaps because of this, he pointed out Ricky as the leader instead of the newmander, Caldebert.

    In the middle of a life or death battlefield, soldiers around them withdrew to create space. Both the enemy and allied soldiers momentarily forgot about fighting and watched the duel.

    Ricky¡¯s sword, although not asrge as Vesprim¡¯s axe, was still bigger than a typical sword.

    The ground was muddy like a swamp, filled with the strong smell of iron and blood.

    A duel of fate? I didn¡¯t think of it that way. I just threw everything I had into following where my sword¡¯s tip led me.

    After what felt both long and short, the duel ended in an instant.

    I urately deflected Vesprim¡¯s ferocious axe swing, moved to his side, and struck down hard with my sword. At that moment, holy golden mes erupted along the de.

    Vesprim fell sideways, raising his arm to block. With a loud metallic sound, his arm was severed. Blood gushed out. The duel ended just like that.

    Beyond the duel itself, the spectators were speechless and shocked by the golden mes from Ricky¡¯s sword. What was that? A warrior blessed by the gods.

    But at that moment, I didn¡¯t care about such things. I only saw Vesprim¡¯s blue eyes through his helmet. They were trembling with fear.

    Seeing those eyes, the mes in my chest quickly cooled, and at the same time the mes on the de died down.

    With everyone, both allies and enemies, holding their breath and watching, they all thought that only Vesprim¡¯s execution by Ricky remained.

    However, the reality was quite the opposite. In some ways, it was more shocking than the mes on the de.

    I slowly lowered my sword that I had raised over my head as if about to strike off his neck and said,

    ¡°Go. Forget the war and return home to live in peace.¡±

    Why did I do that? Even I don¡¯t know. Maybe I saw a reflection of myself in those fearful eyes. Perhaps this man was also an innocent person before he left his home. That was all I thought.

    The Imperial soldiers watching couldn¡¯t understand, but they didn¡¯t dare to question it. Because at that moment, in that ce, Ricky was an absolute presence.

    The battle ended just like that. The demoralized barbarians withdrew on their own, and the Imperial army did not pursue them. It was as if there was a temporary truce.

    For the past ten years, both sides had fought with extreme hatred for each other.

    But with the recapture of the base, my war also ended. I applied for discharge to Caldebert, expressing my wish to return home.

    Caldebert looked as though he had many things to say, but he epted my application without saying a word.

    I was the first person to be discharged with all limbs intact. In the eastern expedition, there was no normal way to discharge except through death.

    Thus, after ten years, I returned to my hometown. To the fields of Heiden. To the ce where I used to herd sheep. I suppose I¡¯m not be a shepherd anymore. I¡¯ll probably just guard the mill. It¡¯s not bad.

    However, when I returned home, my wife had already started a new family. She had a new husband and children.

    With a cold gaze, my wife said words I could never forget. ¡°What have you ever done for me? Don¡¯t act like you know me.¡±

    What did she mean? My wages? What was the point of enduring ten years in that hell?

    The driving force that kept me going for ten years was so flimsy. When the truth came out, that flimsiness was torn apart like paper.

    In a fit of betrayal and rage, I drew my sword and ughtered her entire family in an instant. Without a moment for self-restraint, my sword, honed by ten years on the battlefield, acted even before my thoughts did.

    But then I discovered that the Vige Chief had been intercepting my wages. So, I killed him and his family too.

    In the process of killing the Vige Chief, I found out that even the drawing of lots was rigged. So, did I have any choice in the matter? I killed everyone in the vige.

    Just as I did on the battlefield, I tortured the children in front of their parents, then locked the rest in barns or sheds and burned them alive. This was all I had learned, so the entire process was surprisingly skillful.

    Thus, I became a wanted man across the kingdom and the Empire. Now, I don¡¯t care about anything. Let everyone die.

    Many came to kill me. Bounty hunters, adventurers, thugs, thieves, robbers, wandering swordsmen, renowned knights.

    Sometimes, a few elite warriors woulde; other times, many came at once.

    I survived countless close calls with death and ultimately killed them all. Countless numbers. And through this, mybat skills improved endlessly.

    I wasn¡¯t a fugitive or a runaway. Because I would go and kill them first.

    I would storm castles alone and kill lords, destroy famous swordsmanship guilds, and wreck adventurer guilds.

    With a sword burning with golden mes, I looked down at the world from atop a mountain of corpses.

    So people started calling me the Demon King. Ricky, the devil of devils, the murderer of murderers. Even the emperor trembled with fear.

    After spending another ten years this way, ironically, I gained followers. They believed such immense strength must have been granted by a divine being.

    But my body was already a wreck. Countless wounds cauterized with hot iron, several fingers that could no longer straighten or bend. My mind was utterly exhausted, my life nearing its end.

    Ten years as a shepherd, ten years on the battlefield, and ten years as a notorious murderer. I decided to go somewhere unknown to quietly meet my end.

    Walking aimlessly, I eventually found myself in the fields of Heiden. Sunlight pierced through the dark clouds like spears, embedding into the ground.

    In the distance, white sheep grazed like scattered cotton, and a young shepherd sat in the fields, gazing at the scenery, like I once did.

    At that moment, someone approached on horseback again. Like before, he was backlit by the sun, so I couldn¡¯t see his face due to the dark shadow.

    This time, I didn¡¯t kneel before him. I just plunged my sword into the ground, sat down, and bowed my head.

    ¡°Liar.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as happiness.¡±

    ¡°Nor is there unhappiness. Both are mirages. So it¡¯s up to you to choose. It was you who cursed and condemned yourself to the stake.¡±

    ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m tired now.¡±

    ¡°Then rest. But after your rest, another task awaits. Even I have no say in this matter.¡±

    My eyes slowly closed. Was I dying? Or just falling sleeping? As my consciousness faded, I asked him.

    ¡°¡­Who are you? A god or a demon?¡±

    At the edge of consciousness, I heard the man¡¯s reply.

    ¡°Just as you saw the stars, I saw you.¡±

    With those words, my first life seemed to end.

    Fire and steel, blood, and death. If I were to summarize my life in a few words, it would be these.

    Prologue ¨C Memories that cannot be reminisced. The End.

 Chapter 2

    Chapter 2

    Trantor: Willia

    In one Empire, there were five kingdoms, four merchant republics, and hundreds of small territories and noble families.

    Among those hundreds of noble families, the Caldebern family had its roots in the Adeloron Royal Family, and the branch founder was the heroic knight, Caldebert. The family¡¯s name signified his descendants.

    Caldebert earned merit on the Eastern Expedition and was granted a fief by the emperor, and 100 years have passed since then.

    This also meant that it had been 100 years since the empire¡¯s first Sword Master appeared.

    If one kills a few people, they are merely a murderer, but if they kill hundreds, they are a hero, if they kill thousands, they are a conqueror, and beyond that, they be a god.

    In an era when thunder and lightning from the sky or floods destroying lives were considered the will of the gods, the first sword master was regarded by people as a kind of natural disaster or divine warning.

    People remembered that past of steel and blood in that way. Divine judgment, punishment, and retribution against those who sinned regardless of their status.

    And people believed that he would inevitably return one day. Whether he would bring salvation or destruction upon his return was unknown.

    However, unlike ignorantmoners, powerful figures like the emperor or kings seemed to perceive that past a bit differently.

    They considered the first sword master not as a harbinger of salvation or doom, but as a strategic weapon.

    If only they could obtain that overwhelming strength. If it became theirs¡­

    While some things had to change with the times, there were also values that needed to be upheld.

    Heavy cavalry was still powerful on the battlefield, and the duty of knights was not yet over.

    Nobles had to protect their territories and fulfill military service ording to their contracts with their liege lords.

    To uphold honor as a noble meant not avoiding battle. They must not sumb to unjust threats, and they had to consider courage as the greatest virtue, even at the cost of their lives.

    There were still many who lived with such values. Being a noble implied being a warrior in that era.

    The Caldebern family divided itsnd as generations passed. Back then, the customw was still that of divided inheritance.

    Now, when not even a small patch ofnd was left, the Caldebern family lived in a small manor called Stormhertz.

    It was the time when the hot summer had passed and the weather was starting to get chilly. The harvested fields were resting, withrge piles of dry straw scattered around.

    However, Lord Abelich still had work to do. The Caldebern family¡¯s residence in Stormhertz was bustling from the morning despite the chilly air.

    The lord¡¯s attendants were running around, preparing various things, and judging by the equipment, they seemed to be going hunting. Nets, crossbows, excited panting hunting dogs, and boar-hunting spears.

    Lord Abelich of Stormhertz was on the family¡¯s most valuable asset, a robust brown warhorse, watching his attendants prepare the equipment. Then he noticed something important was missing.

    ¡°Where is Ricky? Where is Ricky?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s probably holed up somewhere quietly daydreaming.¡±

    His eldest son, d in tough leather armor, replied indifferently as he stood next to his father.

    ¡°Boar hunting is a duty and important event for our family. Ricky is now 10 years old, so he must participate. Find him.¡±

    Hunting was not merely a leisurely activity for nobles. Moreover, boars ruined fields and dug up graves, so they had to be eliminated.

    A stray goblin that separated from its group could be driven away by any strong adult man, and wolves, having a sense of caution, would run away if threatened, but boars were different. Their recklessness would not stop unless they were killed.

    And at 10 years old in a noble family meant that it was time to start raising boys and girls distinctly differently.

    Until then, children were raised without distinction, but from the age of ten, they began to distinguish between boys and girls by their hairstyles and clothes, and boys participated in hunting or practiced martial arts.

    It was an era that believed that boys were raised by their mothers, men were raised by their fathers, and warriors were raised by fate.

    However, when the eldest son, who had received orders from his father, naturally looked at his younger brother, the second son, his gaze carried a silentmand: You go and find him.

    But the younger brother only pretended not to notice his older brother¡¯s gaze. This annoyed the eldest, Graut, whose eyebrows twitched.

    ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°Father gave the order to you, brother.¡±

    ¡°And now I¡¯m ordering you.¡±

    ¡°Why should I listen?¡±

    ¡°Because I am the eldest, and you are the second son.¡±

    Whether one was born first or second was not something that could be changed by effort. It was not something they chose either. However, they could not escape from that strict framework.

    The second son, Vilter, was fourteen and would be an adult next year. Like boys nearing adulthood, he was bing somewhat rebellious as time passed.

    Originally, the three brothers had been close, but it was unclear when and why their rtionship began to deteriorate.

    ¡°I swear, I¡¯ll leave this damn house one day.¡±

    Vilter said loudly enough for his father and brother to hear, then moved away.

    The taciturn father ignored him as if he hadn¡¯t heard, the older brother frowned, and the other attendants just smiled as if it was cute.

    However, Vilter searched the watchtower attached to the mansion, the barn, and everywhere else but couldn¡¯t find the youngest. He even asked his sister-inw, whom he didn¡¯t really want to face, but she didn¡¯t know either.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t he in the underground tomb? He might still miss your mother.¡±

    His sister-inw, who was embroidering a cloak with a young maid, suggested. Thedy of the house had died of a fever two years ago.

    ¡°If he¡¯s not there, then he must have followed her.¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t say such things. He¡¯s only ten years old. You should take good care of him. I¡¯ll help too. By the way, is it really okay for me not to go?¡±

    ¡°Father told you to stay in a warm ce. But that¡¯s not out of concern for you, but purely because of the baby in your belly.¡±

    Even if it wasn¡¯t wrong, there are words one doesn¡¯t want to hear. Vilter¡¯s tone was always like that¡ªcrooked and thorny.

    However, despite being not much older than him, his sister-inw justughed it off.

    It was precisely this that Vilter disliked. Everyone treated him like a child.

    Or perhaps, the source of his irritation, which Vilter himself didn¡¯t understand, was the feeling that the family was being taken away from him. That this family, his family, was bing his brother¡¯s. There was no ce for a second son.

    Vilter left the room, which used to be his mother¡¯s and was now his sister-inw¡¯s. He then went down to the underground tomb as she had suggested.

    From the moment he started descending the stairs, the eerie feeling unique to underground spaces brushed his nape. When he reached the underground, it was filled with utter darkness.

    But in the distance, there was a faint light, like a delicate candle flickering in the heart of the underworld.

    Under a torch hanging on the wall was the youngest brother. He was staring at something, looking as if he was standing at the boundary between the living and the dead.

    ¡°Ricky!¡±

    Vilter¡¯s shout echoed in the underground space. The younger brother, whose baby fat hadn¡¯t yet disappeared, turned to look at him.

    It was Ricardt, the third son of the Caldebern family, with blonde hair and hazel eyes. Ricky was his nickname.

    Vilter approached his brother. The eyes of the younger brother, who looked up at him intently, appeared green, blue, or brown depending on the angle of the light. Now, due to the torchlight, they appeared reddish and blue.

    ¡°What are you doing here? Don¡¯t you know we have a hunt today?¡±

    ¡°Just¡­ I just came down here. Today is the day mother passed away.¡±

    In front of Ricardt was a stone coffin with the image of the deceased carved on the lid. It was his mother¡¯s coffin.

    ¡°You remember things like that? Now that you¡¯re ten, don¡¯t you think you should ept it more maturely? And shouldn¡¯t you start worrying about your future?¡±

    At ten years old, one was not just a mere child anymore. It was an age where one was expected to start proper knight training or take on responsibilities of a man. Formoners, it was even harsher.

    At his brother¡¯s scolding, Ricardt lowered his eyes and kept silent. Vilter felt a pang of guilt and his heart softened.

    Ricardt spoke.

    ¡°Growing up in mother¡¯s arms felt like having everything. So, I don¡¯t really worry about the future.¡±

    Vilter didn¡¯t understand what his younger brother was talking about.

    ¡°¡­I can¡¯t tell if you¡¯re an old soul or just slow. People are waiting outside. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Vilter roughly tousled his brother¡¯s hair and took his hand.

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Ricardt, led by his brother¡¯s hand, left the underground tomb as if crossing the boundary from the afterlife. When they climbed the stairs, the deep navy blue light of early morning enveloped them.

    When they stepped into the courtyard, the people who had already finished their preparations were waiting for them.

    ¡°Did it take this long just to find one kid?¡±

    Graut, the eldest brother, spat out an unpleasant remark.

    ¡°Then you should have gone to find him.¡±

    ¡°You little¡­ I¡¯ll let it slide this time.¡±

    Recently, the first and second sons quarreled almost every time they made eye contact. Abelich easily subdued his two sons.

    ¡°Enough. Ricky, stay close to Billy. It¡¯s your first hunt, so just watch from a distance. Butch, take care of the two boys.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord.¡±

    After giving simple instructions, Abelich spurred his horse and galloped out of the courtyard alone. The colorful feathers stuck in his hunting hat fluttered wildly in the wind.

    The clop-clop sound of hooves quickly faded away.

    The rest of the group followed on foot. Although Lord Abelich soon disappeared over the hill, it didn¡¯t matter as everyone knew where to gather.

    The hunting party consisted of a dozen able-bodied men from the vige and a few people simr to retainers.

    They were simr to retainers because they were not paid separately but were granted tax exemption instead. They were a kind of independent farmers.

    One connection to the family went back to the great-grandfather¡¯s time, while the others had been associated with the family since the grandfather¡¯s time.

    Since it was a poor territory, there was more reliance on loyalty than money. The noble family was the center around which several households were united. This was also a microcosm of the feudal society centered on the emperor when greatly expanded.

    In case of war, the lord yed the role of a knight and officer, the retainers acted as nonmissioned officers, and the rest were a kind of soldiers. In other words, they were the basic unit in battle.

    And hunting was alsobat training. It wasn¡¯t just about having many people rushing at the prey.

    They had to move in an organized manner, and for that, they had to be coordinated.

    The series of processes¡ªtracking, chasing, and finishing off the prey¡ªurred in arge area where they couldn¡¯t see each other. It was about knowing the direction of the sounds, how someone they knew would act.

    It wasn¡¯t something that could be done in a day or two. It was taught from father to son, and then from son to grandson. It was bothbat training and field education.

    Ricardt was participating in such field education for the first time. Yet, the boy showed neither excitement nor fear. He remained as indifferent as usual.

    The people carrying various equipment walked ahead, and Ricardt followed Butch with Vilter.

    It was the farming off-season. The air was slightly chilly, and the grass in the fields was turning yellow and dry. The trees were adorned with colorful autumn leaves.

    ¡°Ricky, have you ever seen a wild boar?¡±

    Butch asked. Butch was the son of one of the ¡®retainer-like people¡¯ and had grown up with the lord¡¯s sons in the vige, making them close friends.

    Several boar-hunting spears were slung over his shoulder, with long and broad des almost the size of a human face. Anything less would be unable to pierce the tough hide of a boar.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, have I seen one?¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you see one about two years ago? Weren¡¯t you there?¡±

    ¡°He was by his mother¡¯s side because she was sick.¡±

    Vilter corrected Butch¡¯s inurate memory.

    ¡°Ah, right. Don¡¯t be too nervous, Ricky. We¡¯ll set up camp and live there for a while. Three days if it¡¯s short, up to two weeks if it¡¯s long. You¡¯ll probably see a dead boar. It¡¯s not dangerous.¡±

    Ricardt simply smiled slightly at the words not to be too nervous.

    At the words not to be too nervous, Ricardt just smiled faintly.

    ¡°When I saw it then, it was docile. Why do adults unnecessarily scare us by saying it¡¯s dangerous?¡±

    Vilter said in his characteristic grumbling tone, sweeping the grass in the field with the stick he was holding.

    ¡°It is dangerous. Even animals value their lives. Once they start rampaging, it¡¯s truly dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Butch, have you ever seen a boar rampage?¡±

    Vilter asked.

    ¡°No, I haven¡¯t. But Rian¡¯s father got gored by a boar and died. It was when I was young, so you wouldn¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Well, people die from all sorts of things. I¡¯ll probably go that way too someday.¡±

    It was a world where death was close, from his mother to Rian¡¯s father. Disease, unexpected idents, war, and starvation.

    Stormhertz was rtively better off in terms of food. It wasn¡¯t abundant, but they could scrape by feeding the current number of people.

    ¡°By the way, are you practicing swordsmanship, Billy?¡±

    ¡°No. I don¡¯t want to go intobat. I¡¯m not the eldest son anyway. Why should I bother?¡±

    ¡°Still, isn¡¯t it good to practice swordsmanship? It¡¯s not something you can learn just because you want to. At least for self-defense¡­ Alright, I won¡¯t nag. So, do you have any ns? When the young master bes the lord¡­¡±

    ¡°When my brother bes the lord, what? Are you saying I¡¯ll be kicked out of here?¡±

    ¡°Well, these days, they don¡¯t divide the inheritance equally. How about swallowing your pride and getting some support now?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to beg my brother for anything.¡±

    ¡°¡­You¡¯re something else.¡±

    In the past, it was a principle to dividend or property equally among the children, but not anymore. Because dividing it weakened the family¡¯s power, the inheritance culture of giving everything to the eldest son was bing established.

    Therefore, if one wasn¡¯t born as the eldest legitimate son, life became somewhat harsh. In noble families, they often sent sons other than the eldest to monasteries or knight orders early on.

    This was because in noble families, siblings could be the greatest allies but also the worst enemies, and if the session structure wasn¡¯t stable, retainers or vassals could waver. Splitting into factions for the highest power had to be avoided at all costs.

    Still, some managed to seed by bing bishops or abbots.

    In the case of knight orders, it was honorable but very dangerous and tough. It involved disciplined group living, strenuous training, battles, and there was no special treatment just because one was a noble.

    In short, if one wasn¡¯t born as the eldest legitimate son, they had to solve their living problems on their own. After all, Caldebert, the founder of the Caldebern family, was also someone who made his way on his own.

    Vilter, being fourteen years old, had grown up in the family for quite a long time. But with his brother getting a wife and soon having a child, it was time for him to start looking after his own life.

    If he were a daughter, could she stay at home a bit longer? Or what if the baby died right after being born?

    All these were pointless thoughts. In any case, it was the same that he had to leave soon because he was of age.

    Vilter couldn¡¯t help but feelplicated these days. He had to be prepared to live on his own from now on.

    In such circumstances, there was someone in a simr situation. It was his younger brother, Ricardt.

    Maybe it was because he was still too young to understand, but when Vilter looked back at his younger brother, he had the same indifferent expression as always. Sometimes he seemed like an old soul, at other times, he was whimsical, gentle, and kind¡ªhis dear younger brother.

    Ricardt walked, looking at the ground, then up at the bright blue sky, then off into the distance¡­ He seemed to be without a care in the world. Should he painfully but sternly wake him up to reality?

    While Vilter was lost in thought, Ricardt, looking into the distance, raised his hand and pointed.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a wild boar?¡±

    Both Butch and Vilter turned their heads simultaneously to look in the direction Ricardt was pointing. In the distance, near the edge of the forest, a boar was running wildly.

    ¡°Uh? Yeah, it is.¡±

    Lord Abelich was chasing it on horseback. But something was off. The boar turned slightly and started running in their direction.

    At first, the three of them stood there dumbfounded because of the distance, but when they realized it was heading towards them, Butch and Vilter¡¯s hair stood on end, and their minds went nk for a moment.

    Suddenly, the situation became urgent. The hunting dogs, freed from their leashes, barked frantically.

    ¡°Woof! Woof!¡±

    ¡°Butch! Butch! Protect the young lords!¡±

    Among the people ahead, Butch¡¯s father shouted urgently as he rushed back. Protect? How?

    ¡°Uh¡­¡±

    The boar was getting closer. When it was far away, they hadn¡¯t realized, but its size was enormous. Its height seemed higher than Ricardt¡¯s head. It was also fast.

    Frightened adults threw spears from afar, but they only cut through empty air.

    ¡°Butch! Butch!¡±

    Butch could barely hear his father¡¯s voice. He was frozen in ce. Vilter was the same.

    At that moment, someone snatched one of the spears Butch was carrying and shoved him aside. Butch fell sideways into the dry grass. He saw Ricardt.

    The young boy, who still had baby fat, held the spear backward, cing the shaft on his shoulder and pointing the tip at the charging boar.

    He spread his legs wide and shifted his weight forward, almost as if he was about to fall forward.

    Before anyone could react, the massive boar charged at the child.

    Thud! Thud! Thud!

    Thump!

    Ricardt flew backward, rolling across the grass. Butch and Vilter, standing right next to him, didn¡¯t understand what had happened and just stood there, stunned.

    ¡°Ricky! Ricky!¡±

    Lord Abelich ran urgently to the fallen Ricardt.

    He quickly dismounted and checked on his third son. To his surprise, the young boy was conscious, lying on the yellow, dried grass and looking up at the sky. His palm was torn, and blood was flowing.

    Abelich¡¯s heart sank, and without realizing it, he pulled Ricardt into his arms.

    ¡°L-Lord¡­ my Lord.¡±

    Someone called from behind. Abelich instinctively turned his head.

    Then he saw the boar, dead, with the spear precisely pierced through its forehead. What?

    No one said a word. Only the sound of the wind and dogs barking could be heard in the field.

 Chapter 3

    Chapter 3

    Trantor: Willia

    Reincarnation is like having faded memories of a distant past from a very young age, from the moment your consciousness awakens.

    As you gain a new life and new experiences, the past memories gradually fade and be distant. Instead of the pungent smell of iron and the scent of burning, they are reced with fragrant things.

    A mother smiling at him for doing something silly,ughing and ying with his siblings in the forest, the fresh sensation of wearing new shoes, promises kept with friends, special snacks on special days.

    And when his always stoic father was surprised and hugged him tightly.

    Bit by bit, these starlight-like pieces came together to fill the emptiness inside him. Each day, every morning when he opened his eyes, he looked forward to what would happen that day.

    How should he express these things? He couldn¡¯t think of the right word. He just had this thought. He owed a great debt. Childhood memories that couldn¡¯t be obtained with money or any effort.

    It¡¯s quite coincidental, or should one say providential, that his nickname is Ricky. Ricardt found the idea of fate ridiculous but he didn¡¯t think it was all that bad.

    ¡°How is your body now?¡±

    Abelich asked while wiping his hands stained with meat grease with a towel. At that, Graut, his wife and Vilter, looked at Ricardt, who was at the dining table.

    Ricardt¡¯s hand, which had held the spear so tightly that his muscles tore, was now unbandaged. A month had passed since that incident.

    Ricardt covered his mouth due to the food in it and answered.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. It¡¯s the same now as it was then. Don¡¯t worry.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    Silence fell as they looked at Ricardt, who answered nonchntly.

    When people witness a shocking sight, they find it hard to ept at first, then somehow find a reason to ept it.

    The reason people found was to believe it was due to a stroke of heavenly luck. Various fortunes ovepped. Otherwise, how could a 10 year old take down such a big boar with a single blow?

    Still, the fact that he didn¡¯t freeze or run away, but faced the charging wild boar, clearly meant he was born with an extraordinary temperament.

    The way people looked at Ricardt changed. Their attitude towards him changed subtly. Ricardt felt it too.

    ¡°Would you like to learn swordsmanship?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­I¡¯m not sure.¡±

    Ricardt answered as if hecked confidence.

    Though he didn¡¯t avoid the charging boar, was he afraid of holding a sword? His family thought, surely he is still just a child.

    But it wasn¡¯t because of another reason; Ricardt simply didn¡¯t want to hold a sword again, having dealt with it so much in his previous life.

    ¡°I just don¡¯t understand. When I was your age, I was so excited when I started learning swordsmanship.¡±

    Vilter said.

    As is typical for boys, they tend to like it when offered to be taught sword skills, thinking it¡¯s something cool.

    However, once they realize they have no talent and it bes a series of boring practices, they quickly lose interest.

    Still, he should be happy to learn at first. Vilter thought his little brother was definitely a bit odd.

    Graut, looking at the somewhat timid Ricardt, spoke as if lecturing him.

    ¡°A man must do things he doesn¡¯t want to do. Especially learning swordsmanship is something you must never neglect throughout your life. You can¡¯t just refuse to do it because you don¡¯t want to.¡±

    Learning the sword was not just about training martial arts but was also a basic skill for a noble. Even if they didn¡¯t achieve great aplishments, they had to master the basics.

    However, despite the words of his older brother, who was eight years older, Ricardt did not respond. A moment of silence passed.

    ¡°Answer.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­Got it.¡±

    Ricardt reluctantly answered.

    Though Vilter wastely being cheeky to his older brother, probably due to puberty, it was true that Graut was intentionally keeping a distance from his younger siblings.

    When did it start? Probably from when he got married and began receiving formal heir training in earnest. Ricardt clearly felt that change too.

    When they were younger, just running through the fields with his big brother would make him burst intoughter. He would help him up when he fell and dust off his clothes. He would even give him piggyback rides when they returned home at dusk after ying outside.

    Now it was time to say goodbye to those things. Ricardt realized that neither sadness nor happiness was eternal.

    After finishing the meal, Ricardt left the mansion. He wore the thick gambeson his brothers had worn at his age, put on mittens, and held a blunt practice sword.

    Since there wasn¡¯t a separate training ground, he was to receive his first lesson of sorts in the courtyard, which naturally drew the attention of people like the stable keeper and the hunting dog handler.

    His father and Vilter watched from a distance, while Graut, holding a practice sword, twirled his wrist and spoke.

    ¡°The correct posture brings out proper strength. At first, it might feel awkward, but through constant practice, it should be as natural as breathing in any situation. Ultimately, you should handle the sword like a limb. It¡¯s simple, but not easy.¡±

    As Graut finished speaking, he swung the practice sword forcefully in the air. A threatening swoosh sound was heard, and the fact that his body didn¡¯t sway with his own force made him look disciplined.

    Ricardt just stood there nkly, holding the sword with both hands, resting it on his shoulder.

    ¡°Stand with your legs apart like this. Your left foot is the pivot. Shift your weight slightly forward. Left foot. Yes. When moving forward from this position, step big with your right foot, and when moving sideways, like this. Footwork is crucial. If your feet are unsteady, you can¡¯t exert proper power.¡±

    Graut started teaching the basics to his youngest brother. But he didn¡¯t teach casually; he made sure to give proper instructions.

    Ricardt did everything his brother told him to do. However, for Ricardt, who had memories of his previous life, such basic instructions were more of a restriction on his skills.

    It didn¡¯t matter, though. It wasn¡¯t incorrect advice.

    ¡°Instead of swinging, think of it as pushing and striking. Like this. This way, you can defend and attack simultaneously. In actualbat, you sh with all your might while pulling back. There are various variations, but let¡¯s stop here for today. Just try what I taught you.¡±

    Ricardt did as his brother instructed. He spread his legs front and back, slightly bent his knees, shifted his weight a bit forward, and stepped forward with his back foot, thrusting the sword.

    Once, twice, three times, four times¡­

    The sword cut through the air with a swooshing sound, and the onlookers felt a slight sense of unease. Despite being his first time learning the sword, there was none of the usual awkwardness of a beginner. Beginners typically stumble, unable to handle their own strength.

    It wasn¡¯t just his posture. There was precision in it. He wasn¡¯t just mimicking the outward appearance of what his older brother was doing; he had grasped the essence and made it his own.

    Indeed, he was extraordinary. Unbelievably so. To this extent, it wasn¡¯t just a matter of having some talent; he seemed to be a genius.

    Because of this, Abelich, watching his youngest son, felt aplicated mix of pride and anxiety.

    Having excessive talent was not always a good thing. It could be a threat to the future he envisioned.

    ¡°Graut, spar with him.¡±

    Abelich, who had been watching from a distance, spoke.

    Graut turned to look at his father. He understood his father¡¯s words to mean he should give his brother a harsh lesson.

    Ricardt also heard his father¡¯s words and stopped swinging the sword in the air. Being just an ordinary child physically, he was slightly out of breath.

    Graut looked at his younger brother. His eyes showed hesitation.

    Ricardt quietly watched his brother¡¯s gaze, then lowered his head deeply.

    Graut steeled himself while looking at his younger brother and spoke.

    ¡°Remember what I just taught you? Try it on me. It¡¯s better not to think that you might hurt me.¡±

    However, Ricardt just stood there with his head down, not answering.

    A moment of silence passed before he spoke.

    ¡°¡­¡­No.¡±

    ¡°What did you say?¡±

    ¡°I said no. I don¡¯t want to.¡±

    It was the first time Ricardt, who was always gentle and obedient, had rebelled.

    Graut turned to look at his father. The stern-faced middle-aged man was staring intently in their direction. So Graut turned back to Ricardt and spoke again.

    ¡°Are you defying me like Billy does?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that¡­¡±

    Graut poked Ricardt¡¯s chest with the blunt practice sword. Ricardt staggered backward.

    ¡°Then what are these words and actions? I clearly told you to swing the sword as I taught you. Do it now.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­No.¡±

    ¡°You!¡±

    Graut struck his younger brother¡¯s upper arm. Although he was wearing a thick gambeson, it still hurt.

    ¡°Ouch!¡±

    Ricardt squeezed his eyes shut, hunching his shoulders and trembling in pain.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you onest time. Swing the sword.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Do you think you can mock me?¡±

    Graut hit the other arm this time. Thud, the sound was heard, and he struck not just once but repeatedly. Thigh, shoulder, all over.

    Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud¡­

    Even so, Ricardt just held the sword tightly with both hands and hunched over, enduring the blows. He shut his eyes tightly, his face contorted with pain.

    The onlookers watched with indifferent expressions, though their true feelings were unknown. They knew that even nobles, or rather, especiallyamong nobles, there were times when discipline was harsh.

    Defying the orders of a household elder, particrly the head, was unthinkable.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you onest chance. Swing the sword. If you don¡¯t obey this time, I¡¯ll strike your head.¡±

    Even though it was a practice sword, it was made of metal, and a blow to the head could cause serious injury.

    ¡°No. I won¡¯t do it.¡±

    Ricardt said firmly. Graut¡¯s hand, holding the sword, trembled. He had to strike his brother¡¯s head as he had said, but it seemed too cruel.

    So he turned to his father again, almost pleadingly. Vilter stood by anxiously.

    Tragically, Abelich nodded. It was permission, no, an order, to strike the head.

    Graut turned back to his brother and spoke quietly, so only Ricardt could hear.

    ¡°Just swing it once. Please. I don¡¯t want to do this either.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly why I can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    Graut couldn¡¯t understand why Ricardt was behaving this way. It was the first time he had to hit his brother like this, and the first time Ricardt was defying him.

    Ricardt couldn¡¯t swing the sword at his older brother because the swordsmanship he knew wasn¡¯t for practice duels. It was forged only through blood on the battlefield.

    Knowing that pure killing intent would be conveyed through the tip of the sword, Ricardt couldn¡¯t direct it at his older brother.

    Despite their strained rtionship recently, he couldn¡¯t cut down the memories of their past and the brotherly affection with a sword. It was much worse than hurting himself.

    And he didn¡¯t know how to pretend and swing clumsily on purpose to lose intentionally. So he just did nothing.

    But to the onlookers, Ricardt seemed to be rebelling needlessly. The gentle and obedient child, had he learned this from Billy?

    Graut began to visibly panic at Ricardt¡¯s defiance. No matter how small the matter, once their father had given an order, it had to be done.

    Why was this happening on the first day of sword training? Should he control his strength while striking? Or pretend to strike the head but hit the shoulder instead? Would it be visible from their father¡¯s position?

    Graut had many thoughts. Eventually, he concluded that striking the head was not the answer.

    So he gripped the sword and struck Ricardt¡¯s shoulder hard. From the side or behind, it looked like he was hitting his head.

    Thud!

    ¡°Ugh!¡±

    Thud.

    Ricardt, who had been standing and taking the hits, finally copsed. He tried to get up, but his body wouldn¡¯t respond.

    Graut¡¯s eyes wavered as he looked at his fallen brother. At this point, he didn¡¯t know what to do and kept ncing between his father and Ricardt. Graut was still not old enough to be fully mature.

    Then Abelich strode over. He looked down at the fallen Ricardt and spoke indifferently.

    ¡°Get up. Swing the sword.¡±

    Ricardt, lying on the ground, trembled like a bird caught in the rain at his father¡¯s sternmand.

    Then, he opened his tightly closed eyes. Looking up at his father, Ricardt gritted his teeth and spoke.

    ¡°No. I won¡¯t do it even if it kills me.¡±

    He wasn¡¯t just saying it. His distinctive hazel eyes were burning with determination.

    Abelich felt a chilling sensation at the back of his neck from Ricardt¡¯s intense gaze. A cold shiver ran down his spine, making his hairs stand on end.

    A long silence followed. Graut, feeling ashamed in front of his father and sorry for his brother, hung his head low, his sword dangling.

    Ricardt lowered his head again, tears streaming down his face. ck dots formed on the dry ground.

    Abelich felt an inexplicable emotion but maintained his usual stern expression as he spoke.

    ¡°¡­¡­The lesson is over.¡±

    Then Vilter hurriedly approached, helped Ricardt up, and supported him back to his room.

    Ricardt found it difficult to even lie down on the bed due to the pain throughout his body.

    ¡°Are you an idiot¡­?¡±

    Feeling sympathetic, Vilter scolded him lightly. Ricardt justy on the bed, saying nothing, only showing a mysterious smile.

    A momentter, there was a knock, and someone entered. It was his sister-inw. Despite being pregnant, she had brought ointment and bandages herself.

    She seemed to have seen what had happened from the window. Vilter, sensing the situation, left the room, and she spoke.

    ¡°I¡¯ll apply some ointment.¡±

    Ricardt endured the pain and sat up. He removed his upper garment and lowered his pants.

    His arms and outer thighs were already bruised blue, and his shoulder was a mix of red and blue, almost ck.

    Seeing this, his sister-inw was visibly shaken, her hands trembling as she applied the ointment.

    She hade to tell him that Graut hadn¡¯t meant it, that he had no choice, and not to resent him too much, but she couldn¡¯t bring herself to say it.

    However, Ricardt could feel herplicated and apologetic feelings through her trembling hands.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m quite familiar with pain. It¡¯s almost like an old friend.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­What?¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯m already enjoying more happiness than I deserve. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s an illusion as some say. Rather, I¡¯m worried about my eldest brother feeling bad. Even if he pretends otherwise, he¡¯s still tender-hearted. So, please tell him. I understand everything, and my heart isn¡¯t hurt. I still love him.¡±

    At Ricardt¡¯s words, his sister-inw¡¯s hand stopped applying the ointment. Her eyes were wide open, her expression showing she couldn¡¯t immediatelyprehend what she had just heard.

    There¡¯s a limit to how mature one can be, and she couldn¡¯t have imagined Ricardt would say such things, that he would have such deep thoughts.

    As his sister-inw blinked in astonishment, Ricardt managed a slight smile through his pain.

 Chapter 4

    Chapter 4

    Trantor: Willia

    Before long, the harvest season passed, and winter arrived. The changing seasons, in a broader sense, were akin to the phases of a person¡¯s life.

    Everyone has a period of growth, blooms fully, ripens, and then cools down coldly.

    Ricardt was at the stage of his life where the seasons were changing. Though it was still the beginning, a change was indeed a change.

    In the mansion of the Caldebert family in Stormhertz, though it was the dead of night, there was a ce where lights were on. From afar, light seeped out of two windows.

    And, contrary to the time of silence, a woman¡¯s agonized screams of pain echoed through the mansion.

    ¡°Ahhhhhhh! Aaaahhhh¡­¡±

    In the hallway outside the lit birthing room, Graut, in his nightclothes, was pacing nervously while stroking his chin, and Abelich was silently standing beside him.

    At the end of the hallway, two boys were holding hands and watching the scene in the darkness. They were Vilter and Ricardt.

    In an era where maternal and infant mortality rates were high, giving birth to a new life was a matter of risking one¡¯s life.

    Vilter¡¯s expression was filled with worry and anxiety. However, he himself did not know the source of that worry and anxiety.

    He could not tell whether holding his brother¡¯s hand was tofort or to beforted.

    The midwife carried a basin filled with blood back and forth several times. And then, at some point, a sound that seemed to shake the world erupted.

    ¡°Waaaaahhhh!¡±

    At this moment, even the usually stern Abelich couldn¡¯t hide his expression. However, he could not enter the birthing room and shouted from outside.

    ¡°Hey! Hey!¡±

    After a while, the midwife came out holding a baby wrapped in cloth after cutting the umbilical cord.

    ¡°Congrattions, sir. It¡¯s a young master. The madam is healthy too.¡±

    Young master. In other words, it was a son.

    Vilter felt a sense of inevitability. It was like the feeling of a heavy stone settling in his chest when something he wanted to avoid finally arrived.

    In contrast, Abelich and Graut¡¯s faces were bright with joy.

    ¡°Ricky, it¡¯s over for us now.¡±

    ¡°No. It¡¯s just the beginning.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°The baby, us, and even our eldest brother. Father has be a grandfather, our eldest brother has be a father, and we have be uncles. It¡¯s a strange thing.¡±

    Vilter turned his head and nkly stared at Ricardt.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you afraid? Of leaving home?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a bit sad, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    ¡°¡­You¡¯re better than me. I thought you were just a kid. Well, considering you took down that big wild boar and stood up to Father¡­ you do have some guts.¡±

    ¡°And Billy is smart.¡±

    At his brother¡¯s words, Vilter let out a smallugh. He then roughly ruffled Ricardt¡¯s hair.

    Vilter, who had harsh words for almost everyone, wasn¡¯t like that from the start, and especially not with Ricardt, with whom he was four years apart but treated without reserve. From childhood until now.

    Thus, Ricardt also considered Vilter more like a friend of the same age rather than an older brother.

    ¡°Want to sleep together like old times?¡±

    Vilter asked.

    ¡°Why? Are you scared?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be silly, go get your pillow.¡±

    Ricardt also smiled and went to his room to get his pillow. When the two of themy under the same nket, they couldn¡¯t help but giggle even without doing anything.

    Outside, the sound of a baby crying loudly could be heard, but Vilter and Ricardt foundfort in their own time and space.

    They talked about embarrassing moments, funny things, amazing things, and when their mother was alive. They shared memories umted while staying in this ce.

    As time passed, even the noisy outside quieted down, and they fell asleep without knowing who dozed off first.

    With the birth of the eldest son¡¯s eldest son, the session of Stormhertz was now firmly established. And, this also meant that the spare parts were no longer needed.

    It wasn¡¯t just that they were unnecessary; the brothers of the heir could be threats in the future.

    Even without any wrongdoing, even if they just stayed still, that¡¯s how things flowed in noble households.

    There was no explicit hint or sign, but it was inevitable that all of Lord Abelich¡¯s attention was directed towards his grandson. Not only Abelich, but also the servants and the vigers were all the same.

    Ricardt could clearly feel the change from before in even the smallest details. Perhaps one could say they were a bit more neglectful towards him.

    Sometimes, no one cared whether he had eaten or not. Moreover, he needed permission to see his nephew. He felt a sense of distance from his family.

    Although it was winter, the whole estate was bustling with energy, yet Vilter and Ricardt felt excluded from the festive atmosphere.

    From the people¡¯s perspective, even if their true feelings weren¡¯t like that, paying attention to the second son in such a situation could cause trouble or make the so-called next lord displeased, so they were being cautious on their own.

    Time passed in such neglect, and a month after Ricardt¡¯s nephew was born, during the peak of the harsh cold, Lord Abelich called for Vilter and Ricardt. The ce he summoned his two sons to was a pond a little distance away from the mansion.

    As Vilter and Ricardt made their way there, they sensed that their father had something important to discuss.

    When they arrived, the pond waspletely frozen. The surrounding trees had shed all their leaves, exposing their bare branches.

    Their father, dressed in a thick fur coat with a cloak over it, was gazing at the frozen pond. The sky was grey.

    Vilter and Ricardt approached their father hesitantly.

    ¡°You called for us?¡±

    Vilter said. However, their father did not respond, as if he hadn¡¯t heard his son¡¯s words, and continued to stare at the frozen pond in silence. Only the sight of his white breath exhaling like sighs could be seen.

    Then, suddenly, he spoke as if throwing the words out.

    ¡°Someone from the main family will being soon.¡±

    By main family, he meant the Count Caldebert family. The Caldeberts of Stormhertz had branched off from the main house during their great-grandfather¡¯s generation. At that time, it wasmon for inheritances to be divided.

    In a noble family, there could be only one head of the household. And the head of the household decided the fate of its members: education, future, marriage, even death.

    Therefore, strictly speaking, Abelich was not the head of the Caldebert family. He was merely a lord and patriarch within Stormhertz.

    However, the main house rarely interfered with Stormhertz. Was it due to a sense of kinship as the same bloodline? Or was it simply ack of interest?

    But now, none of that mattered. Because the wife of the eldest son, Graut, was from the main house.

    This meant that the couple shared the same surname, signifyingplete integration. A branch of the same bloodline that had split off was now reuniting.

    Thus, even without a strict primogeniture system, diplomatically speaking, Graut¡¯s son had to, under any circumstances, inherit the estate.

    All these events concerning the estate and family were subtly pushing the non-heir sons out.

    ¡°The personing from the main house is a doctor who studied at the renowned Hanz University. He will help decide your futures. This is the best consideration I can offer as your father.¡±

    In truth, it was a tremendous consideration. There were plenty of cases where sons were sent far away to monasteries without any discussion.

    But Vilter and Ricardt didn¡¯t look particrly happy. It was understandable. Ricardt, as usual, seemed absent-minded, blowing on his cold hands.

    Seeing Ricardt like that, Abelich smiled gently. Then he softly patted his head.

    ¡°Let me hug you. Billy,e here too.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Abelich pulled his two confused sons into his cloak for a hug. The two sons felt awkward and bewildered, but they definitely felt the warmth. It felt different from their mother¡¯s embrace.

    After a while, Abelich unfastened his cloak and draped it over his two sons. Vilter and Ricardt now looked like a cute two-headed monster in one body.

    Abelich sat on a nearby rock and gazed back at the frozen pond.

    ¡°I first went into battle when I was fourteen. I followed my father and brother. It was just as cold then as it is now. We were tasked with leading a small number of soldiers on a major nking maneuver to strike the enemy. Arrows suddenly flew at us as we passed through a forest. When I came to my senses, I had already run far away. I was so ashamed that I went back to the battlefield. Injured soldiers and corpses were scattered everywhere. Then I saw my father carrying my brother, who was bleeding from his neck.¡±

    Abelich shared a personal story with his two sons, something he had never done before. Listening while shivering in the cold gave them a strange feeling. Somehow, their hearts were racing, and they felt burdened.

    Their father, who always appeared confident and indifferent in front of others, somehow seemed shrunken now.

    ¡°You coward. Your brother died because of you. Listen carefully to what I¡¯m about to say. From now on, I will seek revenge. You must do everything you can to recover the bodies and continue the family line. I¡¯ll be waiting in the afterlife¡­ These were my father¡¯sst words to me.¡±

    Abelich lowered his head, perhaps because the mere thought of it filled him with shame.

    Although fleeing the battlefield was indeed wrong, those words were incredibly harsh. They were enough to torment him for a lifetime.

    How many people can face death withposure? Especially in their first battle.

    Yet, even so, one must not retreat but fight. At the very least, they should stand their ground. That¡¯s why maintaining honor as a noble was such a severe task.

    In any case, Vilter found it difficult to even breathe in the heavy atmosphere. He was still too young to fully understand his father, so he just listened.

    ¡°Billy, Ricky. Promise me one thing.¡±

    Abelich looked back at his two sons as he spoke.

    ¡°If you have any resentment, direct it towards me. Do not resent your brother.¡±

    Given the mood, they had no choice but to promise, even if they didn¡¯t want to. However, it didn¡¯t feel like they were following an order as usual.

    ¡°Yes, I understand. I promise, Father.¡±

    Vilter replied first with a serious expression.

    When Abelich looked at Ricardt, he rolled hisrge eyes around with his red cheeks and answered.

    ¡°I won¡¯t resent you. Not you, Father, nor brother. I¡¯ll never have a reason to. Even if there¡¯s no need for a promise, if my little promise is necessary, I¡¯ll promise as much as you need.¡±

    Abelich smiled gently again and reached out to stroke his sons¡¯ heads.

    ¡°I¡¯m not as skilled in battle as my father was, and I was inferior to my brother in every way. But I did my best not to disgrace my family. I tried my best my whole life. I never fled from the battlefield again after my first battle and always fought at the front. The truth is, I wasn¡¯t brave; I was always anxious. You may not understand now, but inheriting the estate is not a great thing.¡±

    Whether they understood or not, the mere fact that their father was sharing this moved them. No, it moved them a lot.

    Ricardt, however, seemed lost in thought for a moment before he spoke to his father.

    ¡°Everyone has a time when they are a coward. The important thing is, when you realize you¡¯re a coward, what you decide to do next determines whether you be a brave person or remain a coward. Father, you are definitely a brave knight. Grandpa would be proud of you. He probably said those words in the heat of the moment. So don¡¯t hold onto it too much.¡±

    Abelich¡¯s eyes widened as he listened to his youngest son¡¯s words. He knew Ricardt was extraordinary, but he hadn¡¯t realized just how deep his understanding was.

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t talk out of turn.¡±

    Vilter reprimanded Ricardt, feeling awkward.

    ¡°Was I out of line?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. Ricky is right. Yes¡­ I hope so.¡±

    As if he had decided to be kind to his two sons today no matter what, Abelich just smiled calmly.

    Today, he truly felt like a father addressing his sons, leaving aside the roles of patriarch, lord, and head of the family.

    ¡°Billy, you grasp things quickly but get bored just as fast. If you cultivate perseverance and patience, you can achieve whatever you set your mind to.¡±

    It was the first time Vilter had heard his father¡¯s praise. He thought his father wasn¡¯t interested in him, but he realized Abelich had been watching all along. Vilter felt an overwhelming joy.

    Abelich then turned his gaze to Ricardt. After a moment of silent observation, he spoke.

    ¡°Ricky, you are undoubtedly extraordinary. Perhaps you are not just talented, but a truly rare genius. However, that worries me. I have seen many cases where excessive talent bes a curse. You need not be humble, but you must avoid arrogance. By doing so, you can elevate our family¡¯s name and save yourself. Who knows? You might even establish a new family line, like our ancestor, the hero knight Caldebert. If that happens, I would be very happy.¡±

    ¡°By elevating the family¡¯s name, do you mean I should achieve military merits?¡±

    ¡°No. It means to act honorably in whatever you do. Do not lie, act honestly, and stay away from injustice. Some might call it foolish, but that is the path that will illuminate both your honor and our family¡¯s.¡±

    Ricardt pondered for a moment and then replied.

    ¡°That sounds easy. I can¡¯t lie anyway.¡±

    ¡°Hey, stop fooling around.¡±

    Vilter said, frowning. But there was no need to worry, as Abelich simplyughed heartily.

    ¡°Hahaha! That¡¯s right. I¡¯ve never seen you lie, Ricky. Hahaha!¡±

    Seeing their fatherugh so heartily surprised and fascinated Vilter and Ricardt. It was the first time they had seen himugh so openly. Their father, too, couldugh so brightly.

    After a heartyugh, Abelich stood up and walked back to the mansion with his two sons. The two followed, sharing their father¡¯s cloak.

    From that day on, Abelich treated Vilter and Ricardt with genuine warmth. Graut and his wife also treated them kindly.

    It was as if the final piece of a puzzle had fallen into ce. Vilter and Ricardt sincerely prayed for their nephew to grow up healthy and strong.

    It might have seemed like they were being treated kindly for thest time, as if they had a terminal illness, but this was still better than nothing. Many families would have cast them out mercilessly.

    Perhaps perfection is rtive. At least Ricardt thought he had perfect parents and siblings. And of course, his sister-inw and nephew too.

    Perhaps because his previous life was filled with darkness, Ricardt knew how to cherish even the smallest light.

    That light was the care, memories, and love he received from his family. These were like the stars in the night sky he used to gaze at endlessly during his shepherd days.

    Fire, steel, blood, and death. Instead of those, the warmth of his mother¡¯s embrace, the bond between siblings, and his father¡¯s acknowledgment shone like starlight in Ricardt¡¯s heart.

    Chapter 1 ¨C Memories of the Past. The End.

 Chapter 5

    Chapter 5

    Trantor: Willia

    Outsiders always seemed to bring misfortune. At least, that¡¯s how Ricardt felt.

    Hadn¡¯t his life gone awry from the moment the cavalry with red gs arrived in Heiden?

    However, the person who came from the main family seemed far removed from concepts like misfortune or happiness. He just seemed¡­ a bit strange.

    He was quite on the portly side, so his gait was waddling, and above all, his clothes were as colorful as those of a clown. His beard grew down to his chest, making it hard to guess his age.

    And he was wearing something like a sleeping cap. Do all people who study at universities have such unique tastes?

    As he took off the hat and bowed his thick waist to greet Abelich, Ricardt saw that he was bald. The sparse patches of hair near his ears looked pitiful.

    To Ricardt, exposing a bald scalp seemed akin to giving the middle finger.

    Straightening his waist again, he spoke with a pleased expression.

    ¡°It¡¯s been a while, my Lord. Congrattions on your newborn son. I feel remorseful for having been out of touch for so long, but I am overwhelmed by your hospitality. Sir Graut looks as imposing as ever. Oh, Lady Aileen, it¡¯s been a while¡ªah, should I now call you Madam Stormhertz now? Haha, you¡¯ve aplished a great feat.¡±

    The person from the main family also greeted Ricardt¡¯s sister-inw. This was because he was Aileen¡¯s writing teacher.

    ¡°You must have had a difficult journey in this cold weather. Dr. Reno. Is the Count in good health?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s doing fairly well, but let¡¯s discuss thatter.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, I see. And this child is my second son, Vilter, and my youngest, Ricardt.¡±

    The man called Dr. Reno continued to smile warmly as he looked at Vilter and Ricardt. He was not here for a casual visit but to discuss the future of the two boys.

    ¡°Young Master Vilter, and Young Master Ricardt. I am Reno. I¡¯ve only seen you both from afar at the wedding, and this is our first proper meeting. I am very pleased to see you both growing up healthily. Haha.¡±

    Dr. Reno was a dependent schr of Caldebert Count¡¯s family, handling variousrge and small matters.

    He acted as a tutor, conveyed the Count¡¯s words to other lords as an envoy, and provided necessary knowledge. In other words, he was an administrator, diplomat, and advisor.

    If a retainer was like a full-time employee serving a noble family for generations, then a dependent schr was more like a contract worker.

    And if one¡¯s abilities were acknowledged, they could stay with the noble family for an extended period. Dr. Reno had been with the Caldebert Count¡¯s family for 20 years, proving hispetence.

    Though he was amoner, he was treated with some respect because of his background.

    ¡°By the way¡­ Is this the young hero who hunted the wild boar? The rumor has spread widely even to the Count¡¯s family. Indeed, just looking at you, I can see your spirit. Remarkable. Haha.¡±

    Whether the rumor was not conveyed urately, or he couldn¡¯t believe it upon seeing it, Dr. Reno spoke while looking at Vilter.

    ¡°No. It¡¯s him. He hunted it.¡±

    Vilter pointed to Ricardt next to him. Then Dr. Reno looked at Ricardt, initially showing a slightly disoriented expression.

    The young boy, still with some baby fat, was looking up at him with eyes full of curiosity.

    Dr. Reno blinked a few times, then assumed it was a joke.

    ¡°Haha, my head may not be the brightest, but I do have some discernment.¡±

    ¡°Ricky really did hunt it.¡±

    Abelich confirmed with a serious expression. Then Dr. Reno alternated his gaze between the stuffed boar head mounted on the wall and Ricardt several times.

    Judging from the size of the boar head, one could guess the entire body size when it was alive, making it hard to believe.

    ¡°¡­ Huh? Did he just deliver the final blow after someone else already cornered it?¡±

    When noble families went hunting, the lord took overallmand, while the actual tracking, tiring out, and cornering of the prey was done by the subordinates. The lord¡¯s role was to deliver the final blow.

    Sometimes, the honor of delivering the final blow was given to someone else, and Dr. Reno assumed it was such a case.

    ¡°No, it was a kind of ident. He stood his ground against the charging boar and pierced its forehead precisely.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡±

    ¡°Luck was on his side. But the courage was genuine. Anyway, given the season, we have nothing much prepared, but there¡¯s wine and meat. First, warm yourselves up and fill your stomachs. You boys, don¡¯t go far and wait in your room.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Father.¡±

    ¡°This way, please.¡±

    Abelich led the still-dazed Reno to the dining room. As they walked, Reno kept ncing back at Ricardt.

    Vilter and Ricardt waited in their room. The two brothers didn¡¯t say much. While Reno seemed pleasant and agreeable, it wasn¡¯t the atmosphere for ying around.

    Although Vilter had been anxious all this time, he showed little reaction when someone from the main family arrived. He just calmly looked out at the frozen world beyond the window.

    The winter sky, tinged with a cold hue, saw migratory birds flying in the distance. asionally, someone came out to fetch firewood and went back inside. White smoke rose leisurely from several chimneys. When the wind blew, the bare branches of the trees shivered as if trembling from the cold.

    Despite the stillness of the scenery, why did it feel so interesting today? On the other hand, even the small stones by the roadside or the withered grass seem to evoke a sense of longing.

    As the sun moved and the sky¡¯s color gradually changed, someone opened the door and entered the room. It was Dr. Reno.

    ¡°Do you mind if we talk for a moment?¡±

    Vilter finally turned his gaze from the window to Dr. Reno. Ricardt, unbeknownst to him, was already lying on the bed, snoring away.

    ¡°Of course. Ricky, Ricky. Wake up. You really can sleep anywhere.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Uh¡­ oh? It¡¯s the clown uncle.¡±

    ¡°A clown, you say. This is the attire of the citizens of the heavenly city of Baricelli.¡±

    ¡°Really? It doesn¡¯t seem very good for hiding.¡±

    ¡°Why would I need to hide¡­ Anyway, take a look at this.¡±

    Dr. Reno sat on a chair and spread arge parchment on the table. As the two boys approached, they saw a strange drawing.

    ¡°Do you know what this is?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not sure. What is it supposed to be?¡±

    ¡°Haha, this is what we call a map. It depicts thend of the whole world we live in.¡±

    ¡°This is a map?¡±

    In an era where maps were rare, the two boys couldn¡¯t immediately recognize what it was. Furthermore, world maps were even rarer.

    In fact, the world map Dr. Reno brought had many parts drawn from imagination, making it inurate.

    Nevertheless, the general shape was roughly correct, and more importantly, there was nothing better than a world map to break the confined consciousness of people living in a well.

    Even the usually indifferent Ricardt¡¯s eyes sparkled. Additionally, Reno¡¯s map did not just show geography; it was filled with various fascinating drawings.

    There were fire-breathing dragons, sea-swimming serpents, an emperor wearing a crown, various bizarre monsters and legends, and treasures. Majestic mountain ranges, deserts, ins, forests, and numerous cities.

    In his past life, Ricardt had wandered around the Empire on a killing spree. However, he was only hunting down those who tried to kill him and their organizations, so he was not well-versed in geography.

    Reno looked at the two boys, their eyes sparkling, and smiled contentedly. Then, he asked a question as if presenting a quiz.

    ¡°Would you like to try finding Stormhertz here?¡±

    It was not a question to trouble them but one to pique their interest. Thus, Vilter and Ricardt¡¯s eyes shone even brighter as they began to search for thend where they grew up and lived.

    However, no matter how hard they searched, they couldn¡¯t find the word ¡®Stormhertz¡¯ anywhere.

    ¡°Stormhertz is around here.¡±

    ¡°Here?¡±

    Vilter asked, tilting his head.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Why doesn¡¯t our territory have a name?¡±

    ¡°The Caldebert County also doesn¡¯t have a separate name, does it? So, you have to infer the direction and location by finding the duchy. This is thend of His Grace Duke Brumbear. The Caldebert County is to the southeast, so it should be here. From here, if we we look for Stormhertz, it should be around this area.¡±

    On the map, even the duchy was very small. The boy felt a sense of spatial distortion. However, it wasn¡¯t an unpleasant feeling. It was a refreshing shock.

    ¡°It¡¯s this small? This ce? It¡¯s smaller than an ant!¡±

    ¡°From a global perspective, yes. How do we usually describe the Empire¡¯s territory? From the Polypus Coast in the east to the ck Forest in the west, and from the Cementa Penins in the south to the Roof of the World Mountains in the north. From here to here, and here to here, this is the Empire¡¯s territory.¡±

    Even the Empire only upied a quarter of the world map. At this point, not only Vilter but also Ricardt found it unbelievable.

    Their expressions revealed their thoughts, and Dr. Reno smiled, finding the two boys cute.

    ¡°Outside the Empire¡¯s territory live the Sman people. They believe in a different god from ours and thus do not hesitate to kill each other. On the other hand, they also trade things like silk, porcin, spices, and meteoric iron. Though they are infidels, they are good with numbers and have excellent craftsmanship. ording to legend, they learned their skills from dwarves. And this is where the Holy Emperor received the sacred sword from an angel. Here is where the hero Siegfried fell in battle, and here is where the hero Elijah, who killed a dragon, was active. And¡­¡±

    Reno continued to point out legendary and historical ces. Just as the map itself was a mix of imagination and reality, so were the beliefs of people, a blend of reality and fantasy.

    What mattered was that whether true or not, it fueled dreams and propelled people forward.

    ¡°Not all knightly orders are the same. For instance, the headquarters of the Order of the me Knights is here. They serve to protect the southwestern borders of the Empire from infidels, living celibate lives of service. It¡¯s a noble task but not easy. In contrast, the Order of the Lily Knights, headquartered here, is very wealthy from trade and money lending. They are criticized for being too worldly, but their lives as knights are easier.¡±

    Indeed, as expected of a schr, Dr. Reno knew a lot. Vilter and Ricardt, having had no opportunity to learn beyond basic literacy, found Dr. Reno almost omniscient.

    Dr. Reno continued his story. It was a series of stories connecting history and legends that would interest children.

    Pointing to another ce, Dr. Reno said,

    ¡°This is Fernd, conquered a hundred years ago by the famous Martellus II, the Conqueror Emperor. It was once called the Eastern Expedition Territory. It is said that the infamous demon among demons, or the chosen of God, the unparalleled murderer and Sword Master, Ricky, was from here. Come to think of it, Young Master Ricardt¡¯s nickname is Ricky, right? Haha, that must be why you¡¯re so brave.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    Hearing something rted to his past life from someone else¡¯s mouth, Ricardt felt strange. It was as if his heart grew heavy and his head cold.

    He didn¡¯t deliberately ignore those memories, but they certainly weren¡¯t pleasant.

    ¡°Where is the Heiden Field?¡±

    Ricardt asked.

    ¡°The Heiden Field? Hmm, is there such a ce? Ah, I think I¡¯ve heard of it. Not certain, but somewhere in the north. Something about wool¡­ If it¡¯s a ce suitable for sheep grazing, it¡¯s probably one of these ces.¡±

    ¡°¡­It¡¯s really far¡­¡±

    Ricardt was referring to the distance from Heiden Fields to the Eastern Expedition Territory, but Reno understood it differently.

    ¡°Yes, it would take at least a month to travel from here to Heiden. But where did you hear about Heiden?¡±

    ¡°Just¡­ I think I overheard it somewhere. But why did the Conqueror Emperor go so far to wage war?¡±

    ¡°The exact reason is not known. ording to one theory, it was because of a document called the Codex Orient.¡±

    ¡°The Codex Orient?¡±

    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s a document discovered by an adventurer named Grunvald. It supposedly contains the forgotten ancient empire¡¯s secret techniques. It¡¯s said that by cultivating a certain power within the human body, one can walk in the air or strengthen des to cut through iron like cheese, granting superhuman abilities. It is spected that Sword Master Ricky might have wielded that power.¡±

    Huh? That¡¯s not true, Ricardt thought to himself. In his previous life, he had never read any documents. He was illiterate.

    ¡°Recently, that theory is bing almost certain. Since there are spellcasters in the world, why wouldn¡¯t that be possible? Several Codex Orient have actually been found, and among them, there are people who have indeed gained superhuman abilities. Most of the ones circting in the market are fake, but ording to some information from adventurer guilds suggests, some are genuine. Why do you think the royal family sponsors adventurer guilds and nurtures adventurers? In the past, adventurers were just thugs.¡±

    Originally, adventurers were people who wandered from region to region, collecting unpaid debts or acting as problem solvers. Since their profession was unclear, theybeled themselves with the grandiose title of adventurers.

    They might have thought it romantic, but to others, they were just troublemakers.

    However, after the Codex Orient was discovered, emperors and kings personally began to train professional adventurers.

    The Eastern Expedition Territory, now called Fernd, was a sort of bridgehead, from which they explored nearby dungeons and ruins to acquire ancient technologies and knowledge.

    ¡°In addition to the Codex, there are also magical relics. Most are useless trinkets, but some are quite useful. Like this.¡±

    Dr. Reno pulled a short stick from his pocket. At the end of the stick was a embedded fist-sized orb, which glowed faintly when he tapped it on the table.

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    Vilter¡¯s eyes widened. Meanwhile, Ricardt seemed startled at first but quickly lost interest.

    ¡°Haha, with this, there¡¯s no need for torches at night. It¡¯s my treasure.¡±

    ¡°But what happened to the people who originally lived there?¡±

    Ricardt asked.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°The people who originally lived in the Eastern Expedition Territory, I mean Fernd.¡±

    ¡°They all died. Or they surrendered and assimted into the Empire. Perhaps a few small tribes remain? By the way, it was your family¡¯s ancestor, the heroic knight Caldebert, who ended that war. The Empire¡¯s greatest militarymander, Caldebert the Breaker. There¡¯s a famous story that one day he killed so many barbarians that the blood in the fortress rose to ankle height. ording to records, even the people of the Empire were quite shocked and thought it was too extreme, but he receivednd from His Majesty the Emperor and the right to establish a new family, so it didn¡¯t matter. If you count the number of people killed, it¡¯s probably more than Ricky.¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡±

    Ricardt thought of Caldebert. He seemed more like a schr than a knight.

    And he was the only person Ricky could call a friend, and apart from being a capablemander, he was a person with a very warm heart.

    It was hard to imagine someone like him doing such a horrific thing. It was hard to imagine how he must have felt. If they had stayed together on the battlefield without leaving, would their fates have been different?

    He still vividly remembered thatplex expression when he applied for discharge. What was he trying to say? It seemed like he was about to say something.

    It didn¡¯t seem like a simple regret. He remember his eyes looking very sad.

    At that time, he was so sick of the war that he didn¡¯t even have the strength to take care of himself.

    But when he returned home, the thing waiting for him was¡­

    ¡°It¡¯s getting dark. We should stop here for today. There¡¯s always tomorrow. There are many interesting stories, so you can look forward to them.¡±

    Dr. Reno said with a smile. As he said, night had fallen, and without lighting amp, it was hard to see the map. They had been so engrossed in his stories that we lost track of time.

    ¡°I¡¯ll leave the map here. I¡¯ll take it with us on the day we leave.¡±

    Dr. Reno got up, leaving the map on the table. He walked to the firece, threw a few logs on the dying embers, and poked it with an iron rod to revive the fire.

    ¡°Have pleasant dreams.¡±

    Dr. Reno said as he left the room. The gentle way he closed the door revealed his considerate nature.

    Vilter seemedpletely absorbed in the map. He took it to bed,ying down and examining each drawing and ce name carefully in the dim room.

    Ricardt watched the map with his brother and then fell asleep. The moonlight streaming through the window was so bright that Vilter continued studying the mapte into the night.

    From the next day, the two brothers ate meals and went on walks with Dr. Reno, having many conversations.

    He was truly an excellent person. He didn¡¯t just tell them about various career paths, but he inspired them to dream and hope.

    However, unexpectedly, Vilter wanted to join the Order of the me. This was a knightly order that vowed lifelong celibacy and defended the southwestern borders of the Empire. It was known to be the most dangerous and arduous of all knightly orders.

    When asked why he made such a decision, Vilter replied, ¡®Because I think it will help me cultivate patience and perseverance.¡¯ It seemed that he had taken his father¡¯s words to heart.

    And Ricardt wanted to be an adventurer, which puzzled everyone when he exined his reason.

    ¡°I want to know if the war was worth fighting¡­¡­¡±

 Chapter 6

    Chapter 6

    Trantor: Willia

    ¡°Well then, I have to prepare the documents separately, so I¡¯ll take my leave now. The knight order will probably send someone, and as for the Adventurer Training Academy, I don¡¯t know whether it¡¯s better to go through the royal family or contact them directly. But I¡¯ll do my best to find a good ce that will take special care of our brave young master Ricardt. Hahaha.¡±

    There were several Adventurer Training Academies within the Empire, mostly sponsored by the Emperor, kings, or great nobles, and operated by guilds.

    It hadn¡¯t been long since these academies were institutionalized to train professional adventurers, so their operation methods varied and there were hardly any that werepletely established yet.

    Anyway, since the two boys had made their decision, all that was left were procedural matters. Given the era, everything had to be handled by people.

    ¡°Travel safely. Please convey my regards to the Count.¡±

    ¡°I will never forget the grace of your hospitality. I hope both young masters fare well. Ah, there¡¯s one thing I¡¯d like to advise. Never trust what merchants say, and don¡¯t associate with spellcasters at all.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­Why?¡±

    Vilter asked.

    ¡°Merchants would sell their souls to the devil for money, and spellcasters look down on people and are so selfish they have no sense of guilt. Their way of thinking is different. So, it¡¯s best not to associate with them.¡±

    Leaving his final piece of advice, he put on a fur hat to keep his bald head warm and left the mansion.

    Even though no one told them to, Vilter and Ricardt climbed the watchtower to see Dr. Reno off. The cold winter wind blew fiercely, but it did not intimidate the boys.

    As he reached the horizon and was barely visible, he waved his hand broadly in their direction. The two boys waved back just as broadly.

    After his visit, if anything had changed, it was that Vilter¡¯s anxiety and irritation had turned into excitement, anticipation, and a bit of fear.

    And personally, Ricardt was curious about how the world had changed after 100 years. Unlike his older brother Vilter, he wasn¡¯t particrly thrilled.

    About a monthter, as the ground started to thaw at the end of winter, the vigers began to spread manure on the fields, filling the entire estate with the smell of dung.

    Amidst the smell, a stranger rode into the vige on a horse. He wore chainmail under a white surcoat with a me emblem.

    His saddle was equipped with a helmet, shield, spear, and axe, all of which were scratched and worn, showing they were not merely decorative.

    It was said that one knight of the Order of the me Knights could take on at least 40 Sman barbarians, and his demeanor and gaze certainly seemed to confirm that. It was as if an aura flowed out from over his shoulder.

    As he entered the courtyard and nced around, there was something about his gaze that intimidated people. All of the servants of Stormhertz averted their eyes.

    He remained on his horse until Abelich, who clearly looked like the lord of the manor, came out of the mansion. Only then did he dismount. Then, in a manner that could be seen as either arrogant or perhaps dignified, he introduced himself.

    ¡°Senior Knight of the Order of the me Knights, Edmund.¡±

    ¡°I am Abelich, Lord of Stormhertz. Does the Order of the me Knights usually show up unannounced?¡±

    ¡°Your family applied for a volunteer, and we epted. What other procedures are needed? I did note as a guest. I do not expect to be treated as one.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°Who is the volunteer? I will take them immediately.¡±

    It was somewhat shocking and absurd that he barged in and demanded to take Vilter right away.

    Everyone unconsciously looked at Vilter, who stared nkly at the knight of the Order of the me Knights with a shocked expression. It seemed as if his excitement and anticipation were crumbling in an instant, reced by growing fear.

    At that moment, an unexpected youthful voice suddenly broke in.

    ¡°Who said anything about treating you as a guest? This is Stormhertz, not the Knight Order. Show proper respect to the master of thend you¡¯ve entered.¡±

    Everyone was surprised to see it was Ricardt.

    The knight named Edmund quietly observed Ricardt, who was ring at him, and then chuckled.

    ¡°Is it you? The volunteer? You¡¯ve got promising eyes. But don¡¯t get cocky. The knight order won¡¯t treat you like a young master.¡±

    ¡°Hmph. Look at yourself. Aren¡¯t you the one being cocky,ing into someone else¡¯s house like this?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    While everyone else was too intimidated by the unfamiliar knight¡¯s aura, but the smallest one here, Ricardt, was bravely standing up to him.

    However, his cute face, mature tone, and young voice made his words less impactful.

    In fact, Ricardt wasn¡¯t entirely wrong. He had stepped forward because of the knight¡¯s attitude, which seemed to disregard his father, brothers, and hometown people.

    ¡°Ricky, that¡¯s enough. I apologize for my son¡¯s rudeness on his behalf. Edmund, you have done nothing wrong. As you said, we applied for a volunteer, and the knight order epted. However, the volunteer is not Ricky here, but my second son, Vilter. I have something to give to my son, so please wait a moment.¡±

    Abelich stopped Ricardt and went back into the mansion.

    However, upon hearing that Ricardt was not the volunteer, Edmund looked a bit surprised. He had secretly taken a liking to him.

    It was because those with a fierce or confrontational nature tended to endure well.

    The knight order, especially the Order of the me Knights, was one of the toughest. No, it was undoubtedly the most difficult and thus gathered the most excellentbat personnel in the empire.

    High-intensity training, strict discipline, and countless life or death battles. One couldn¡¯t endure such a ce with mere determination or temperament.

    Failure to endure often meant death. Once inducted, there was no option to quit or escape. Desertion was a serious crime under militaryw.

    Even after Abelich entered the mansion, Ricardt continued to re angrily at Edmund, his mouth tightly shut.

    A ten-year-old¡¯s re wasn¡¯t going to intimidate a battle-hardened knight, but Edmund felt a strange sense of discord from Ricardt¡¯s hazel eyes.

    It was a kind of instinctive danger warning honed through realbat, though he thought it couldn¡¯t be the case.

    Meanwhile, looking at Vilter standing next to Ricardt, Edmund saw the typical frightened expression of a young boy.

    Thus, his interest, briefly piqued by Ricardt, quickly waned.

    ¡°Have you ever served as a squire?¡±

    Edmund asked, looking at Vilter.

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    But Vilter, seeming dazed, didn¡¯t seem to hear Edmund¡¯s question. So Ricardt, still ring at Edmund, poked his brother¡¯s side.

    ¡°Ah! Why, huh?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s asking if you¡¯ve ever served as a squire.¡±

    Ricardt whispered.

    ¡°A-a squire? W-well, I know how to maintain armor and weapons to some extent¡­¡±

    ¡°Anybat experience?¡±

    Nobles sometimes participated in battles as young as fourteen if they were unlucky. Great heroes often distinguished themselves inbat from a young age.

    Fortunately or unfortunately, Vilter had nobat experience.

    ¡°N-no, I don¡¯t have any¡­¡±

    ¡°If you volunteered for the knight order out of a superficial desire, you¡¯d better give up that expectation. If your family decided it without your consent, it¡¯s easier to just ept it. There¡¯s no turning back now. Only service and dedication to the Empire lie ahead. Don¡¯t think too much. It will only erode your resolve. Just endure silently.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    It sounded more like a grim warning than advice. Indeed, life in the knight order was actually brutal.

    At that moment, Abelich came back out of the mansion. In his hand was a shield bearing the family crest.

    The crest was divided into four quarters by a white line on a red background, a symbol granted by the Emperor.

    ¡°Take this with you. I hope this shield will protect you.¡±

    Vilter quietly epted the shield with a heavy heart. Edmund silently observed him before mounting his horse without saying a word.

    ¡°Follow me. I shall take my leave, Lord Abelich.¡±

    He then turned his horse and exited the courtyard.

    Vilter nced back and forth between his family and Edmund, stuttering, ¡°Uh¡­¡±. Once he left, who knew when he would return? He might nevere back.

    It felt like he should say something, but the words wouldn¡¯te. What should he say? Shouldn¡¯t he say goodbye?

    Meanwhile, Edmund continued to move further away, and Vilter had no choice but to start walking. It wasmon for the knight to ride while the squire walked.

    It wasn¡¯t easy from the start. The headquarters of the Order of the me Knights was at least a month¡¯s walk away.

    Ricardt watched Vilter until he was out of sight. He alternated between running to catch up with Edmund and walking. He looked back countless times.

    Eventually, they disappeared beyond the horizon.

    Even after Vilter left, Stormhertz remained unchanged. They plowed the fields, sowed seeds, and weeded¡­

    The vige boys, who had yed with Vilter in their childhood, tried not to show their sadness. Whenever Vilter¡¯s name came up, they would say,

    ¡°He didn¡¯t go off to die, did he?¡±

    That¡¯s right. He didn¡¯t go off to die. And it was his own choice. They had to believe he would do well. When they saw him again, wouldn¡¯t he be a gant knight?

    Ricardt kept his feelings of sadness and loneliness to himself. And now it was his turn.

    He spent his time wandering the territory with a still-growing, untrained hunting dog.

    He would sit in the fields, watching the dog happily run around. When it came close, he would pet its head and back.

    Now, just running through the fields didn¡¯t bring the same joy it used to.

    At dusk, he would return home with the dog, have dinner with his family, wash up, and sleep.

    About a week after Vilter left, while wandering outside with the dog again and returning around evening, Graut, dressed in outdoor clothes and pacing in the courtyard, said,

    ¡°Ricky, you came at the right time. I was just about to look for you. Go to the study quickly.¡±

    Ricardt felt calm, thinking that whatever was going to happen would happen anyway.

    When he entered the study, someone was sitting on the sofa. The man was slim, looked very agile, and had a leather bag slung across his shoulder.

    He waspletely different from the senior knight Edmund. Sitting and nkly staring at Ricardt, he had no imposing presence and looked like an ordinary person.

    He didn¡¯t seem very old, appearing to be around the same age as Ricardt¡¯s eldest brother, Graut.

    The man, who had been conversing with Abelich, noticed Ricardt and spoke.

    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m a courier affiliated with the Imperial Guild Bureau. I came because I have something to deliver. You¡¯re young master Ricardt, correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    The Imperial Guild Bureau? Is there such a thing? Anyway, the man took out a cylindrical container made of hard leather from his bag. When he opened the lid, a scroll sealed with wax emerged, which he handed it to Ricardt.

    Ricardt broke the wax seal and unrolled the scroll. It was an admission letter to an academy. An academy? Admission?

    The elegant handwriting on the admission letter mainly contained content praising the academy.

    Our academy carries a long-standing tradition. We teach ancient scripts, survival skills, various martial arts, fosters teamwork and throughpetition¡­ and so on and so forth¡­

    The border of the admission letter was adorned with gold leaf patterns, and the emblems symbolizing the imperial family and the academy were stamped inbination.

    Ricardt handed the admission letter to his father for him to see and then spoke to the courier.

    ¡°From what I¡¯ve heard, they were supposed to train professional adventurers.¡±

    ¡°Well, young master, I¡¯m just a delivery man, so I don¡¯t know much, but many people don¡¯t view the word ¡®adventurer¡¯ very favorably. Saying ¡®academy¡¯ makes it sound more respectable¡­ I haven¡¯t seen many ces openly using the term ¡®adventurer.¡¯¡±

    ¡°¡­Anyway, this academy is sponsored by the royal family?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. I believe that it¡¯s operated by a guild.¡±

    ¡°An adventurer guild?¡±

    ¡°Haha¡­ Probably?¡±

    ¡°Which adventurers¡¯ guild?¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s Beringen Academy, then it¡¯s likely the Beringen Adventurers¡¯ Guild.¡±

    Beringen was a ce name. It was located in the northeastern part of the Empire, though not as far north as Heiden.

    In fact, most adventurer academies were located in the eastern part of the Empire because they were close to Fernd.

    The ultimate goal of adventurer academies was to go to Fernd to find ancient relics or the Codex. Fernd was a sort of base city, and the surrounding areas remainedrgely unexplored.

    Abelich silently read through the admission letter and then asked the courier.

    ¡°It says to enroll by March 14th. Are you the escort?¡±

    ¡°No, my lord. I¡¯m just a delivery man. I can guide you to Reinfurt, but going all the way to Beringen is beyond my capacity. I have other duties to attend to¡­¡±

    In the case of the Order of the me Knights, Senior Knight Edmund hade to fetch the volunteer. But it seemed that was not the case for the academy. It appeared one had to arrive by the specified date on their own.

    ¡°March 14th¡­ that¡¯s a bit tight¡­¡±

    Abelich fell into contemtion. As the lord, he couldn¡¯t leave the estate recklessly, and the same applied to his heir, Graut.

    Even if he wanted to send someone else along, it was the busy farming season, and many hands were needed. This wasn¡¯t a particrly wealthy estate, so the absence of even one person made a big difference.

    In fact, both joining the knight order and entering the academy were fully funded by the main family.

    He couldn¡¯t send just anyone. It had to be someone who could protect Ricardt to some extent, but such people were in the midst of their busiest time right now.

    ¡°There¡¯s a branch of the Beringen Guild in Reinfurt. Alternatively, you could follow another courier heading that way. However, since it¡¯s a long journey, the fee might be a bit¡­¡±

    The courier suggested. He wouldn¡¯t take Ricardt directly, but he was saying he could arrange it if given some money.

    Abelich found themoner in front of him somewhat unreliable. However, considering the man was affiliated with the Imperial Guild Bureau, which made that part somewhat reliable.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, Father. I¡¯ll follow this courier tomorrow. Whether it¡¯s Billy or me, leaving home is the same for both of us. We can only hope for good fortune.¡±

    Ricardt spoke confidently. Abelich had nothing more to say. No matter how one looked at it, it was ultimately about eliminating sons other than the legitimate heir toplete the session structure.

    The main family had shown interest and funded the costs, and his father had also taken care to a certain extent, so it wouldn¡¯t be right to ask for more.

    It was time for both Abelich and Ricardt to firm their resolve.

    Abelich opened the drawer of his study desk. He took out something wrapped in cloth and handed it to Ricardt.

    ¡°This is something speciallymissioned from the main family¡¯sbat forge, not the local cksmith. Take it with you.¡±

    Just as he had given a shield to Vilter, he had something for Ricardt as well.

    When Ricardt received it and unwrapped the cloth, it was a dagger.

    ¡°It¡¯s made by melting down the spearhead you used to kill the wild boar. Luck favors those who take action, not just those who just talk about it. I hope the luck that was with you continues to follow you.¡±

    Ricardt drew the dagger. It was a bit wider and longer than an ordinary dagger.

    As he sheathed it again and wrapped it in cloth, Ricardt said, with a smile spreading across his face:

    ¡°It¡¯s not luck, Father.¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡±

    ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll use it well.¡±

    Without saying more, Ricardt tucked the dagger into his bosom.

    Early the next morning, Ricardt had a meal and left home following the courier. It was a time when most people were still asleep. His father watched his departing son through the window.

    It would be a lie to say there was no regret, but Ricardt tried to keep precious and nostalgic things only in his heart. Unlike Vilter, he never looked back.

    On the path he chose to leave, there was no horizon to disappear into.

 Chapter 7

    Chapter 7

    Trantor: Willia

    A tunic made of linen, a belt, leather shoes, a wool coat, a travel cloak, a dagger, and a side bag were all that Ricardt had.

    Now, there was no home to return to, and there was no hope of ever seeing his family again.

    Looking at it positively, a new future and world were unfolding before him, and negatively, it was the beginning of hardships he had never experienced before.

    At times like these, having a past life was good. Because nothing scared him, no matter what he did.

    Ricardt crossed the boundary of Stormhertz, a ce he had never left since he was born, and walked all day, only taking a couple of short breaks.

    As the day quickly turned into evening on the mountain path, and the cool wind started to feel chilly, the courier headed for a camping spot.

    It seemed like a ce frequented by travelers, suitable for sheltering from the wind, with a makeshift firece surrounded byrge stones, and ckened ashes within it.

    The courier expertly struck flint over dry twigs and straw he had prepared in advance, lighting a fire. He blew on it to grow the mes, then added nearby scattered logs.

    Soon, the mes gained strength and the sound of crackling could be heard.

    Ricardt settled in an appropriate spot, sitting down and pulling out his travel rations wrapped in cloth from his bag.

    It was made by his sister-inw, a mix of various grains, honey, and salt, steamed and dried.

    It was hard, so he had to gnaw at it with his front teeth or crunch it into pieces. Then he softened it with saliva in his mouth. It tasted nutty, salty, and sweet all at once.

    The proportions were so perfect that it wasn¡¯t just edible, it was a delicacy. He could feel his sister-inw¡¯s heart in it.

    ¡°Have you traveled before?¡±

    The courier suddenly asked.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Feel free to speakfortably. It¡¯s making me ufortable.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Alright.¡±

    ¡°How strange. These days, there are so many people who act all high and mighty just because they have money, pretending to be nobles. Yet, the real nobles are so polite.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just doing what my mother taught me. She said to speak respectfully to adults.¡±

    ¡°By the way, is this really your first time traveling?¡±

    ¡°It is. Why?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ you don¡¯t seem worried or anxious at all.¡±

    In this era, if one encountered bandits and was killed, there was no way to track down the culprit. Human trafficking was rampant in the shadows, and nobles were often kidnapped because of their ransom value.

    Yet, it was odd that a ten-year-old, traveling far from home for the first time, showed no signs of worry or anxiety, as the courier had mentioned. Was he simply ignorant of the ways of the world?

    Ricardt just smiled lightly. Then, while continuing to eat, he asked a question first this time.

    ¡°Is the delivery job decent?¡±

    ¡°Whether it¡¯s good or bad, having a job is a blessing. It solves the problem of daily survival. Thanks to this job, I know many people here and there, and even if I quit, I have a few ces I could get into through connections. Believe it or not, I¡¯m affiliated with the Empire. Hahaha.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good.¡±

    ¡°By the way, are you trying to be an adventurer?¡±

    ¡°For now.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t quite understand. Nowadays, even nobles be adventurers. Did you know? The letter delivery job I do now used to be done by adventurers in the past. So, if you think about it, I¡¯m an adventurer too.¡±

    ¡°Adventurer or not, I don¡¯t care about titles. What I¡¯m interested in is whether the war was worth fighting. The Eastern Expedition Territory, I mean. It¡¯s called Fernd now, right? Anyway.¡±

    ¡°¡­What? You¡¯re interested in that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s personal. I don¡¯t expect you to understand.¡±

    The courier seemed confused. But what could he do if Ricardt said it was personal?

    ¡°By the way, the Academy doesn¡¯t have a great reputation. I¡¯m not sure if I should be saying this.¡±

    ¡°Why? Is there something wrong with it?¡±

    ¡°Well, it depends. I don¡¯t know exactly what goes on inside, but I¡¯ve heard that it¡¯smon for students to end up dead or half-crippled. I¡¯ve seen it happen too. Because for some reason, the academies seem to have no hesitation in shedding each other¡¯s blood. They fight brutally among themselves, reconcile, and then fight again. You¡¯re still young, so you might not be immediately dragged into such fights, but who knows once you get older. In my opinion, I think it might be the guilds pulling the strings behind the scenes.¡±

    ¡°Are you saying Academy students are being used in Guild conflicts?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I think. In the end, adventurers have always been a bit sketchy, both then and now. The difference now is that they¡¯re somewhat feared instead of being looked down upon.¡±

    Despite not being very old, the courier kept talking about the ¡®back then¡¯ and ¡®in the old days¡¯. He was probably boasting in front of the young Ricardt, trying to act like an elder.

    So Ricardt didn¡¯t pay much attention to his words. Neither did hepletely ignore them. He just took them as some tales of how the world worked.

    ¡°There must be a reason for it, whether it¡¯s something absurd or significant.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you afraid, young master?¡±

    ¡°Why? Do you want me to be scared?¡±

    ¡°No, but if it were me, I¡¯d go back and beg the lord to send me to a monastery. Living as a monk isn¡¯t so bad. On weekends, you can go to the vige, have fun with innocent country girls, you don¡¯t have to take responsibility even if they get pregnant, you drink, you don¡¯t pay taxes, you don¡¯t have to worry about the lord¡¯s mood¡­¡±

    ¡°The monks I¡¯ve seen weren¡¯t like that.¡±

    ¡°Sorry to say, but Stormhertz is honestly a bit rural, right? People from the central region are stubborn and narrow-minded. Folks from the western regions are more passionate and open-minded. So you should go to a monastery in the western region.¡±

    ¡°Really? Is Stormhertz considered central?¡±

    ¡°More like south-central.¡±

    ¡°Do I seem stubborn and narrow-minded to you?¡±

    ¡°Hahaha, no, you¡¯re still young, young master. Anyway, once I save enough money, I¡¯m going to go west and open a winery.¡±

    The courier had never actually been to the western regions. His work involved delivering letters around the central region.

    He seemed to have developed a dream from the stories he heard¡ªabout open-minded beauties, delicious alcohol, good weather, and fertilends.

    It wasn¡¯t bad, Ricardt thought. Whether a big dream, a modest dream, or a worldly dream, as long as it became his driving force to live.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name? I can¡¯t keep calling you ¡®courier.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Arno. They called me ¡®Rabbit Foot¡¯ when I was a kid because I¡¯m good at running away. That¡¯s why this job suits me. Did you know? Even couriers take oaths like knights.¡±

    ¡°What kind of oath?¡±

    When Ricardt asked, Arno straightened his posture and solemnly recited,

    ¡°In the name of the Gods and the Emperor, I swear not to drink while on duty, I will not to harass people, I will deliver the mail no matter what happens, I will not to open the contents, and I will work honestly and faithfully. If I break this oath, I will be a criminal of the Empire and be condemned to hell after death.¡±

    It might seem excessive to make a mere courier take such an oath, but it was true that this job couldn¡¯t be done without trust.

    That¡¯s why nobles preferred to entrust letters to their retainers or trustworthy individuals rather than someone from the Imperial Guild Bureau.

    However, it was clear that, unlike knights, there were no promises aboutbat. No vows of not retreating in the face of battle or pledging one¡¯s life to uphold honor.

    Still, it seemed there was some sense of professionalism.

    Although they were just temporarypanions, having walked together all day and now sharing the campfire at night, the two naturally grew closer.

    Arno, having traveled around as a courier, had heard many stories and had much to share.

    He also seemed to enjoy having someone to talk to. It had been a while since he hadpany on a lonely night.

    The next morning, they extinguished the remnants of the campfire by stamping it out and set off on the road again, heading northeast over the mountain path.

    Despite his young age, Ricardt followed withoutint, even though constant walking might have been tiring. This was because he had been running through forests and fields since childhood, even without separate physical training.

    In the countryside where there weren¡¯t many forms of entertainment, they often had runningpetitions, and since Ricardt¡¯s opponents were always older boys, he had no choice but to constantly challenge his physical limits.

    Even though he would be thoroughly exhausted by the end of the day, a night¡¯s sleep would leave himpletely refreshed and ready to run around again the next day.

    However, regardless of his physical stamina, travel often brought unexpected challenges.

    Arno, who often used shortcuts known only to a few during his delivery work, encountered a group of people where another mountain path began.

    There were carriages and wagons stopped by the roadside, with people setting up tents and making a temporary camp around them.

    There were people who looked like newlyweds, arge extended family with grandparents and grandchildren, merchants, and two armed guards. In total, there were about twenty people.

    Seeing such a mix of people gathered in one ce puzzled even Arno, who delivered letters for a living and found it strange. It wasn¡¯t a ce suitable for setting up a settlement.

    They stared nkly at Arno and Ricardt passing by on the remote road.

    ¡°Hello, I¡¯m a courier from the Imperial Guild Bureau. Are you holding a spring festival here?¡±

    Arno approached the people and greeted them cheerfully, asking what they were doing here.

    Despite his question, no one answered. An awkward silence followed, making Arno¡¯s cheerful smile falter. Finally, a merchant sitting a bit away by a fire spoke.

    ¡°We¡¯re waiting for someone.¡±

    ¡°Really? Must be someone important. Mind telling me who you¡¯re waiting for?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not waiting for anyone specific. Just trying to gather more people. We¡¯ve waited for three whole days, and only a young man and a boy show up, it seems pointless.¡±

    Arno exchanged nces with Ricardt standing beside him, then looked back at the merchant.

    ¡°Gathering people? Why?¡±

    ¡°The more people, the less likely bandits will dare to approach.¡±

    ¡°Bandits? Are there bandits around here?¡±

    ¡°Why else would I be stuck here? Every day is a loss.¡±

    The merchant gestured with his chin to a spot nearby. There were several mounds of earth with crude wooden crosses sticking out. They were fresh graves.

    While Arno hadn¡¯t passed through this road for a while, thieves had be a problem.

    Bandits and robbers were not rare. In times of hardship and harsh punishments, many chose the life of an ouw.

    ¡°Should we go back?¡±

    Ricardt asked.

    ¡°As you saw on the way here, young master, it¡¯s a one-way road. If we turn back, we might not make it on time.¡±

    The deadline to reach the Academy was the 14th. It was already a bit tight when they set out, but if they took a long detour, as Arno said, they might not be able to meet the deadline.

    Moreover, Arno wasn¡¯t taking him all the way to his destination. Ricardt would need to find another guide from Reinfurt onwards.

    ¡°If they¡¯ve killed people, it means they¡¯re desperate¡­¡±

    Arno mumbled with a troubled expression. Just over this mountain pass was Reinfurt, practically within reach.

    ¡°It seems there are few caravans heading north, as it¡¯s just the beginning of spring. Otherwise, merchants could have banded together to pass through. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s any point in waiting anymore.¡±

    Ricardt spoke up. It was surprising how a child could know such things, but he was right.

    The merchant seemed to share Ricardt¡¯s thoughts. He had been waiting just in case, but with only Arno and Ricardt arriving, he couldn¡¯t afford to dy any longer.

    Waiting idly would only deplete their food supplies, and in trade, time and distance were money. Transporting goods over long distances in a short time was profitable, whereas taking too long even for short distances was a loss.

    However, the merchant wasn¡¯t too keen on risking his life alone, so he addressed the gathered people.

    ¡°You folks, you¡¯ll be caught and killed by your lord if you go back anyway, so wouldn¡¯t it be better to risk your lives where there¡¯s a chance of survival?¡±

    Though their exact stories were unknown, the people seemed to be fugitives rather than ordinary civilians.

    ¡°There are quite a few of us here already. Waiting any longer will just deplete your food supplies. Let¡¯s make a decision now. I¡¯ll take the lead.¡±

    It was clear that the merchant intended to spread the risk and find a way to escape alone. However, everyone seemed to think the same way, so there was no need to consider the merchant cowardly.

    In typical merchant fashion, he proposed a sort of negotiation, and the mention of ¡®food supplies¡¯ got people moving. They began dismantling their tents and preparing to leave.

    However, there were only two armed men and about five or six adult males, including Arno.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s good luck or bad luck, but it seems we have no choice, Young Master Ricky.¡±

    ¡°Luck isn¡¯t something you can only know by the results. It¡¯s something you create.¡±

    ¡°Is that so? It would be nice if you could really create luck. I¡¯d make a lot of it and be filthy rich from dice gambling. Stay close to me. I¡¯ll try to create some luck.¡±

    ¡°Alright, thanks.¡±

    Ricardtughed at the absurdity of Arno¡¯sment about dice gambling, and the two of them mixed in with the group, heading up the mountain path.

 Chapter 8

    Chapter 8

    Trantor: Willia

    Between the bare branches, new buds hung like dewdrops. Soon, they would sprout and bloom.

    Someone once said that if a traveler don¡¯t encounter rain or snow on a journey, they¡¯re lucky.

    That statement wasn¡¯t entirely wrong, as there was nothing more threatening to one¡¯s health and challenging as encountering rain on the road.

    Only two days into his journey, Ricardt was fortunate enough not to have encountered any rain. However, he had to pass through a mountain path infested with bandits.

    Though it was still cold in the mornings and evenings, sweat beaded on Ricardt¡¯s temples as he climbed the mountain pass.

    The cart pulled by the donkey constantly rattled constantly, and people had to push the wagon from behind at times.

    It was as if they were announcing their presence to the bandits instead of passing quietly. The speed was so slow that if they encountered bandits, they couldn¡¯t guarantee their lives unless they abandoned their belongings.

    They were so tired that their heads drooped naturally from exhaustion, and the women had to carry bundles on their backs while holding babies in their arms.

    At least the older children sat at the back of the rattling carts.

    Despite the hardship, Ricardt didn¡¯t bow his head and kept an eye on the surrounding terrain. After all, he needed to detect any dangers in advance.

    Suddenly, a girl sitting at the back of the cart, whom he hadn¡¯t noticed, thrust something at Ricardt. Upon closer look, it was a flower ring made of woven nt stems.

    ¡°Are you giving this to me?¡±

    Ricardt asked. The girl nodded silently.

    Ricardt, who hadn¡¯t properly washed for two days and was somewhat dirty, looked at the girl with her disheveled hair and grime-covered face, nearly resembling a beggar.

    Despite her appearance, herrge eyes, with whites as clear as boiled eggs and emerald-like green irises, stood out vividly against her dirty face.

    Boldly, the girl grabbed Ricardt¡¯s hand and slipped the flower ring onto his finger.

    ¡°Now you and I are married, oppa.¡±

    The girl said. Ricardtughed in disbelief.

    ¡°We don¡¯t even know each other¡¯s names.¡±

    ¡°We can learn them now. What¡¯s your name?¡±

    Just as Ricardt was about to say his name, Arno, who was walking beside him, suddenly interrupted.

    ¡°Hey, you filthy girl. Do you even know who this person is to speak such nonsense?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Arno.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not, young master. I may be amoner, but you shouldn¡¯t be too kind tomoners. They get arrogant and try to climb above their station. Do you think noble marriages are for the likes of you? Come to your senses, you bitch.¡±

    At the mention of ¡®noble,¡¯ the people walking nearby looked at them with shocked faces. The girl shrank back at Arno¡¯s scolding.

    To the people, Ricardt, though somewhat dirty, seemed to be dressed neatly. Moreover, his teeth were straight, his face had no rough spots, and hecked the typical creases and shadows of a hard-livedmoner.

    Upon closer inspection, he indeed seemed like a nobleman¡¯s son. But what was such a noble¡¯s son doing here?

    The people felt both curiosity and fear. Getting involved with a noble could mean losing their skins. The reactions were especially intense among those traveling with them.

    Ricardt, having lived in the countryside, didn¡¯t really know whatmoners generally thought of nobles. The nobles he encountered in his previous life were either militarymanders or enemies.

    In Stormhertz, nobles andmoners lived together without much distinction.

    However, the atmosphere of each noble and their territory varied greatly. There were all sorts of characters, from perverts to madmen.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, my lord.¡±

    A woman carrying a baby urgently and roughly pulled the girl back. As a result, the girl nearly fell off the back of the cart.

    Ricardt instinctively caught her.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright. I¡¯m not sure why Arno is so upset about this.¡±

    When Ricardt used formalnguage, the woman looked bewildered. It seemed the lord in her hometown had ruled very harshly.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, they¡¯ll try to climb above their station¡­¡±

    Arno grumbled discontentedly. Regardless, Ricardt spoke to the girl.

    ¡°Thank you for the ring.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    Unfortunately, the once bold girl couldn¡¯t respond any further.

    Whether it was because of Ricardt or Arno, the atmosphere of the procession became tense.

    Soon, the cart in front couldn¡¯t get over a stone again, causing the procession to stop.

    The cart, loaded with goods transported by the merchant, was being pushed bymon men for some reason. Two armed men stood idly by, simply watching.

    Taking advantage of the dy, Arno and Ricardt paused to rest. Ricardt noticed people standing up on the mountain slope.

    At first nce, they looked no different from themon people traveling with them. They didn¡¯t bother to hide, just stood there nkly staring down at them.

    ¡°Those people, they¡¯re bandits, right?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Up there on the hillside.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡­¡±

    At Ricardt¡¯s words, Arno looked up at the slope. He saw a couple of people standing there, looking at them. Wait, not just a couple, but maybe four or five. Oh? Their numbers are increasing? Wait a minute, shit?

    They were indeed bandits. Some were wearing gambesons that didn¡¯t fit them or had helmets practically just perched on their heads without properly fastening the chin straps. They were clearly armed, anyone could see that.

    ¡°Oh no¡­¡±

    Soon, others in the procession noticed the bandits on the slope. Initially, they weren¡¯t scared, just seemed to be facing unfamiliar people.

    However, one of the bandits on the slope casually picked up a bow, nocked an arrow, drew the string, and aimed at them.

    ¡°Uh, uh, uh?¡±

    Whoosh. Thunk.

    An arrow was shot and stuck into a nearby tree. Amazingly, that single arrow was enough to break the men¡¯s spirit. No one was killed or injured, yet.

    ¡°Eek!¡±

    Some sat down on the spot, others hid beside the cart, and some abandoned their families and ran back the way they came.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go that way!¡±

    Ricardt shouted at the fleeing people. Because if the bandits were openly showing themselves, it meant they had already cut off their escape route.

    ¡°Damn it!¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s just go!¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about! We can¡¯t leave our goods!¡±

    The merchant group in front wasn¡¯t in a good state either. The two guards had drawn their swords but didn¡¯t seem eager to fight to the death.

    Meanwhile, some bandits from the slope started descending with spears.

    Two of them approached one of the armed guards, who awkwardly backed away, swinging his sword wildly in the air in a futile attempt to intimidate them.

    ¡°S-Stay back! You fucking bastards!¡±

    The two approaching bandits said nothing. They exchanged nces with each other and simultaneously thrust their spears from both sides. Despite their crude equipment, they were not amateurs.

    The guard, unbelievably, neither blocked nor dodged, allowing a spear to pierce his stomach.

    ng.

    ¡°F-fuck¡­! You d-dogs¡­¡±

    The sword fell weakly to the ground. All he could do was clutch the spear sticking out of his stomach and curse through gritted teeth.

    One of the bandits quickly picked up the fallen sword and used it to stab the original owner in the neck, killing him.

    Seeing the armed man they had relied on for protection die so easily, the remaining people panicked.

    ¡°Ahhhhhhh!¡±

    A woman¡¯s piercing scream rang out. From that moment, everyone ran in all directions. Faced with death, they abandoned their belongings, goods, and even their children.

    The horses pulling the cart also panicked and started to rear, but they couldn¡¯t run away due to being tied to the cart and the wheels being stuck. The scene quickly descended into chaos.

    However, Ricardt stood still, watching the bandits¡¯ actions, seemingly fearless or in shock.

    Two men remained on the slope, looking down, and they seemed to be themanders. The other bandits began to attack the people.

    While seizing goods was profitable, the most valuable loot in these times was people. They could collect the goodster; for now, they targeted the women first.

    At that moment, someone grabbed Ricardt¡¯s arm. It was Arno. He ran, not forward or backward, but into an area without a clear path.

    ¡°Oppa!¡±

    Just as they started to run, a young voice pierced Ricardt¡¯s ears. The flower ring, still fresh, was on his finger.

    Ricardt shook off Arno¡¯s hand from his arm. Arno, surprised, looked back and shouted.

    ¡°My lord!¡±

    The adults were all fleeing, and the girl was crouched beside the cart, clutching her head in fear. Ricardt quickly ran to her.

    ¡°Can you stand up?¡±

    But the girl was too terrified, trembling, unable to answer or move.

    Ricardt tried to ease her tension with a gentle smile and a joke.

    ¡°I¡¯m Ricky. What¡¯s your name? We should at least know each other¡¯s names since we¡¯re married, right?¡±

    Despite her extreme fear, the girl looked at Ricardt as if mesmerized and barely managed to reply.

    ¡°¡­Daisy.¡±

    ¡°Is that a flower name?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Oddly, as her trembling subsided, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the boy¡¯s face in her eyes and his voice in her ears.

    At that moment, the two bandit leaders began descending the slope and walking towards them. They must have heard the girl¡¯s voice.

    These two had rtively better equipmentpared to the other bandits. They wore severalyers of leather armor that were tough enough to withstand most des.

    Perhaps because of this, they walked towards the back of the cart without any caution. Suddenly, a child burst out and collided with one of them.

    The bandit reached out to grab the child, but the child quickly slipped away, dodging the grasp.

    At that moment, the bandit felt a burning sensation in his lower abdomen. Looking down, he saw his intestines spilling out through the gaps in his armor.

    ¡°Huh¡­?¡±

    He didn¡¯t immediately understand what was happening to him.

    By the time he realized the intestines on the ground were his, he felt a different kind of emptiness in his stomach, his legs gave way, and he copsed.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on? What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    The other bandit,ing from behind, asked, bewildered by hispanion¡¯s sudden copse after colliding with a child.

    When he finally noticed that hisrade¡¯s intestines were spilling out of his belly, his eyes widened. Hisrade was frantically trying to scoop his intestines back into his stomach.

    The sight was so shocking that he couldn¡¯t look away. It was a fatal mistake.

    Just as he was about to look up to see who had done this to hispanion, this time Ricardt¡¯s dagger shed deeply through a gap in his armor, cutting the inside of his thigh.

    ¡°Aaaaargh!¡±

    He fell, squeezing his eyes shut, not even knowing what had happened. Ridiculously, due to the pain and mental shock, he couldn¡¯t even draw the sword at his waist, just iling his arms in the air.

    Meanwhile, Ricardt grabbed the hair of the bandit who was still trying to scoop his intestines back, pulled back, and slit his throat. The dagger was so sharp that it cut through the cartge smoothly.

    Ricardt pushed the bandit¡¯s head forward without emotion. The bandit fell face-first into the ground, blood gushing from his neck, drowning in his own blood.

    ¡°Gurg. Kek. Grrrk¡­¡­¡±

    The one with the shed thigh writhed on the ground, watching in horror as hisrade died.

    As he tried to stand up, his severed thigh tendon made it impossible for his body to move properly. He repeatedly managed to rise a little, only to copse back down.

    Ricardt kicked him hard in the chest, then gripped the dagger in a reverse grip, raised it high above his head, and plunged it into the bandit¡¯s eye, driving it in up to the hilt as he almost fell forward.

    Thud!

    As the de pierced through the eye and reached the brain, the bandit flopped like a fish out of water.

    Ricardt pulled the dagger out with force, wiped the blood and grease off on the bandit¡¯s clothes, stood up, and surveyed his surroundings. Everyone had either fled or were in pursuit, leaving the area around him deserted.

    Only Arno, who had sat down on the ground while fleeing, was staring at him with his mouth agape.

    In Arno¡¯s eyes, Ricardt appeared unnaturally calm. It wasn¡¯t that he was pretending not to be afraid; it seemed as if something essential to being human was missing in him.

    Or maybe he was possessed by an evil spirit, needing an exorcism. He certainly didn¡¯t look like just a 10 year old boy.

    Even more unbelievable was Ricardt¡¯sposed demeanor as he rummaged through the bandit¡¯s pockets and cut off a finger to take a gold ring.

    The mountain breeze cooled his sweat, but Arno couldn¡¯t feel any pleasant relief. Instead, a bone-chilling fear crept over him, sending shivers throughout his body.

    Ricardt wiped a few drops of blood off his face with his sleeve. Then, smiling as usual, he spoke to Arno.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect them to just walk up so foolishly. We got lucky.¡±

    Before climbing the mountain path, Ricardt had said that one makes their own luck. Meeting bandits on the road might be considered unlucky, but perhaps being able to save the girl in time was fortunate.

    Luck and misfortune, happiness and unhappiness, seemed to pass by like intersecting paths. Or perhaps they were like the two sides of a coin, always connected.

    Ultimately, which path to take at that crossroads or which side of the coin to look at was up to the individual.

    Therefore, there was no need to despair when faced with misfortune. It simply meant that a moment of choice had arrived, and the choice was theirs to make. Ricardt thought this way.

    Perhaps that¡¯s why, in his past life, hisrades had once given him that nickname.

    Chapter 2 ¨C Lucky Ricky. The End.

 Chapter 9

    Chapter 9

    Trantor: Willia

    Even the sharpest sword in the world varies in power depending on who wields it.

    In the hands of a child, it would only cause self-injury, but in the hands of a master, it might cleave through an era.

    About 100 years ago, the Empire¡¯s first Sword Master, Ricky, undoubtedly possessed invincible skills that had never been seen before or since.

    However, the fact that people only focused on his martial prowess meant they knew only half of him.

    Ricky knew how to utilize his skills as a tool. Whether fighting an individual or a group, he could devise the most appropriate n to inflict devastating consequences on the opponent and execute it with machine-like precision.

    This was something he naturally acquired while crossing the line between life and death countless times in gruesome wars and struggles against the world¡¯s injustices.

    Win, or die. The more he engaged in these gambling-like tactics andbat methods, the more refined they became, until at some point, they were no longer gambles.

    Thus, even though his body was not fully grown, killing lowlife ragtag bandits was not a difficult task for him.

    ¡°They¡¯ll gather back here. They¡¯lle one or two at a time, so we just need to kill them in order. There were eight in total. If there are men blocking the escape routes, there might be a few more. But not too many.¡±

    Did he even have the presence of mind to count heads in that situation? Anyway, Ricardt, calming the horse by the carriage in the chaotic scene, said.

    However, judging by his appearance, Arno seemedpletely dazed and unable to hear Ricardt¡¯s words.

    ¡°Pick up a weapon. Killing bandits doesn¡¯t require any special skills. Don¡¯t swing wildly, just calmly stab the abdomen. Not the chest. It might get stuck on the ribs.¡±

    Arno was only panting heavily, as if he was hyperventting. He couldn¡¯t seem toe to his senses. Even as time passed, he struggled to calm down.

    Daisy was slightly better, but not by much. She was sticking close to Ricardt, staring intently at his face.

    Without a word, Ricardt untied the sword the bandit leader was wearing and brought it to Arno.

    Arno stared nkly at the sword Ricardt handed him, then btedly flinched in surprise.

    ¡°I, I, I, I.¡±

    ¡°Get a grip already. Didn¡¯t you take the oath of the courier or whatever?¡±

    The oath was to not drink, not cause trouble, and always deliver the package to the intended recipient, not about fighting enemies.

    In any case, Arno hadn¡¯t lived without seeing blood. In this world, it wasmon to punish criminals brutally. Beheadings in the square were standard.

    So he wasn¡¯t shocked by the sight of blood. He was terrified of Ricardt, who was frightening to the bone.

    Arno finally gathered his senses and took the sword Ricardt handed him with trembling hands.

    Only then did Ricardt crouch down beside the carriage and hide. He nned to kill the bandits as they came one by one.

    Arno and Daisy crouched down next to Ricardt. As Ricardt observed, Arno¡¯s hands were shaking so much that he wouldn¡¯t be able to draw his sword in time.

    ¡°Draw your sword in advance. The first time is hard, but you¡¯ll get used to it quickly.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­D, did, did you take knight training?¡±

    It seemed Arno needed something to believe in. He needed an exnation for why a ten year old could kill people so nonchntly. Otherwise, he would have no choice but to see Ricardt as either a being possessed by an evil spirit or the devil himself.

    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s just say that.¡±

    Ricardt replied casually and then spoke to Daisy as well.

    ¡°Don¡¯t stick so close. It¡¯s hard to move.¡±

    ¡°Yes, got it. Honey.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­Unbelievable.¡±

    Having to look after both a child and an adult while doing this, Ricardt inwardly sighed.

    However, amidst all this, intermittent screams andughter could be heard from both near and far. Among them were cries like ¡°The baby! At least spare the baby!¡±

    Then someone came back up the mountain pass again. As Ricardt had predicted, it was a bandit bringing a prisoner.

    The prisoner¡¯s condition was terrible, with an expression full of resignation and despair. The two bandits were snickering.

    When they came to where the carriage and carts were, they discovered the two corpses Ricardt had killed. Their snickering stopped abruptly.

    ¡°Did they fight each other?¡±

    ¡°What should we do?¡±

    Despite their leader¡¯s death, they showed no sadness or anything of the sort. They simply thought that the two had killed each other after some quarrel.

    At that moment, Ricardt stealthily approached from behind and then swiftly lunged, deeply shing one of the bandit¡¯s hamstrings.

    ¡°Ugh! What the¡­!¡±

    The bandit¡¯s knee buckled involuntarily, and he fell backward. Then, Arno threw himself at the remaining bandit in a desperate move.

    In his excessive force, he entangled with the bandit and fell to the ground. Still, it seemed he had seeded in stabbing the bandit from behind.

    Ricardt had already slit one bandit¡¯s throat, finishing him off, while Arno mounted the remaining bandit and began stabbing him repeatedly with the sword held in reverse grip.

    ¡°You fucking! Bastard! You filthy! Fucking! Bastard!¡±

    He was in a state of extreme agitated. Because of this, the sword¡¯s tip quickly dulled against the bones, and his stabbing angles went awry, causing him to lose his grip on the sword.

    Even then, not calming down, he picked up a nearby rock and smashed it repeatedly into the already dead bandit¡¯s face.

    Thud! Thwack! Thud!

    ¡°Stop. That¡¯s enough. He¡¯s already dead.¡±

    Only when Ricardt intervened did Arno stop, flinching. His face and hands were covered in blood.

    He looked at Ricardt with a highly exhrated expression, panting heavily.

    Seeing Ricardt¡¯s incredibly calm face, which barely changed, Arno felt his wildly beating heart begin to calm down slightly.

    ¡°I, I did it. I really did it.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you did well. Now pull yourself together.¡±

    Ricardt didn¡¯t know how many times he had to say it, but perhaps Arno was experiencing the most thrilling moment of his life.

    The two women who had been dragged along widened their eyes in shock as Ricardt and Arno killed the bandits.

    ¡°Let¡¯s hide the bodies roughly so they can¡¯t be seen from below and hide again. Also, take their weapons.¡±

    ¡°Of course! Young Master!¡±

    Arno replied vigorously.

    They continued dealing with the bandits who came up bringing prisoners. Seeing that they always came in pairs, it seemed they operated in teams of two.

    By the time they had killed six bandits, Arno started to wonder if it should really be this easy. As his fear subsided, the bandits seemed like insignificant beings. Was I really scared of these guys?

    And he could observe Ricardt a bit more clearly. There were no shy skills or anything like that. His movements were short, concise, , and he stabbed and shed vital points without error. ces like the abdomen, the back of the knee, the neck.

    It sounded easy, and it looked easy to do, but it wasn¡¯t. If he missed or tangled his movements, he wouldn¡¯t be able to handle an adult¡¯s strength with his child¡¯s body.

    Arno had only heard about knight training, but now he thought, I guess they teach stuff like this. Nobles really are scary. On the surface, he looks like an innocent kid. d I didn¡¯t mess with him.

    Among the prisoners, there were no men. They were either killed, identally died, or sessfully escaped. There was no way to know.

    Fortunately, among the rescued prisoners were Daisy¡¯s mother and family.

    Thest person brought up as a captive was the only male prisoner, a merchant. They had likely captured him hoping for a ransom.

    ¡°That¡¯s right! That¡¯s right! My lords! You can get at least ten gold coins for my ransom! Without me, the tradingpany can¡¯t operate! Hehehe.¡±

    He seemed to be doing everything he could to survive. Ten gold coins, what nonsense. Even nobles, except for royalty or high-ranking nobles, would find it hard to fetch such a ransom. He was utterly shameless.

    ¡°Do you think we¡¯re idiots? Talking about ten gold coins. If your tradingpany offers less than five silver coins, we¡¯ll just kill you.¡±

    Sure enough, the bandit wasn¡¯tpletely ignorant of the world. After all, they must have captured and sold a few people before.

    ¡°What!? Th-That¡¯s¡­!¡±

    ¡°Shut up. Why is there so much blood smell here?¡±

    ¡°Looks like the guys killed needlessly again.¡±

    ¡°Fuck, we all get scolded together. They just don¡¯t listen, do they?¡±

    The two bandits wrinkled their noses at the smell of blood lingering in the air as they approached the spot with the carts and carriage. They were in it for the money, but some would lose their heads and get carried away sometimes.

    When they finally reached the cart, they saw bloodstains scattered around and traces of something being dragged. There were no bodies in sight. However, behind the carriage, feet were sticking out.

    Sensing something was off, they moved toward the carriage when suddenly something sprang out from the nearby bushes. Startled, they iled their arms, and someone shoved them hard.

    ¡°What the hell, fuck!¡±

    One of the bandits cursed as he fell on his butt. At that moment, he felt a burning sensation in his stomach. Blood gushed out, soaking his clothes.

    ¡°What¡­?¡±

    ¡°Eek!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    The merchant, the injured person, and the other bandit¡¯s eyes widened in shock. They saw a boy standing with a bloodied dagger.

    While their attention was on Ricardt, Arno suddenly rushed from the opposite side and stabbed the remaining bandit in the side.

    ¡°Ugh!¡±

    Just like before, the bandits couldn¡¯t put up any resistance to the sudden attack. After inflicting fatal wounds, finishing them off was easy.

    Ricardt, moving neither too fast nor too slow, almost leisurely ced his de on one¡¯s neck before deeply stabbing it, killing him. Arno, now much steadier, finished off the other bandit.

    Warm blood gushed out, soaking the ground. The merchant, not understanding what was happening, sat trembling on the ground.

    Only then did the hiding womene out, their eyes darting around frantically as they dragged the bodies behind the carriage to hide them.

    Ricardt and Arno stood on either side, looking down at the crouching merchant.

    ¡°Can you fight?¡±

    Ricardt asked.

    ¡°¡­What?¡±

    ¡°I asked if you can fight. Where is your guard? There was one left, right?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ Right. Where did he go? Ah! H-He ran, ran away. Or did he? Maybe he died? I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Then pick up a weapon. Not a spear, but a sword or axe. We¡¯ll ambush them when theye up.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡±

    ¡°Get up. We don¡¯t have time. They coulde up any moment.¡±

    Arno grabbed the merchant by the cor and forced him to his feet. The merchant, dazed and unsure of what he was doing, just followed orders.

    He picked up a weapon and hid behind the cart with Arno and Ricardt. Turning his head, he saw the bodies of the bandits lined up. He was shocked once more. How did this happen?

    If analyzed step by step, it wasn¡¯t that difficult, but people usually only see the results. To the merchant¡¯s eyes, it seemed like Ricardt and Arno had dealt with all the bandits simultaneously.

    ¡°I, I apologize for my rudeness earlier, not recognizing the Hero.¡±

    The merchant finally spoke to Arno after much hesitation. He couldn¡¯t imagine that Ricardt was the one leading all this.

    ¡°Hero? You mean me? The Hero is the young master here. He¡¯s the one who took down those two leaders over there.¡±

    The merchant nced at Ricardt, then at the two corpses Arno had pointed to. It was hard to believe, but having seen the boy kill the bandits with his own eyes, he had nothing to say.

    Upon closer inspection of the two bandit leaders, with their eyes wide open and mouths agape in death, he realized they looked familiar. Two men? If it¡¯s two men¡­

    ¡°It¡¯s the Vilton brothers. I heard they were on the run, but I never thought they¡¯d be hiding here. And you¡¯re telling me the young master killed these two?¡±

    ¡°I saw it with my own eyes too, but I couldn¡¯t believe it at first. But it¡¯s true. You saw it yourself earlier, didn¡¯t you? He sliced his belly open. Look at this one. His stomach is slit open, spilling his guts, then before he coulde to his senses, his throat was slit.¡±

    Although Ricardt said nothing, Arno boasted as if it were his own feat.

    The merchant looked back at Ricardt again. He was wiping the dagger with a cloth, and the de gleamed as if it were new. A shiver ran down the merchant¡¯s spine as he recalled the image of the boy killing the bandits.

    ¡°If, if it¡¯s not too rude to ask, if it¡¯s not too much trouble, may I ask about your background, young master?¡±

    ¡°Stormhertz.¡±

    ¡°Stormhertz¡­ Ah! Are you the young hero who supposedly took down a wild boar with his bare hands?¡±

    It wasn¡¯t clear how far the rumors had spread, but they seemed a bit exaggerated.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t bare hands, I used a spear.¡±

    ¡°Still, that¡¯s remarkable. I never imagined you¡¯d be so young. As expected of a young master from the renowned martial family of Stormhertz. Ah, about 12 years ago, I apanied the army as a war merchant in the Battle of Briden. At that time, I made money by providing prostitutes to the soldiers. Wasn¡¯t the g a red background with a white cross? The lord charged gantly on a brown horse. The enemies were thrown into chaos.¡±

    Whether it was because he had narrowly escaped death or because he thought his life depended on this young boy, the merchant was ttering Ricardt as if his tongue had been greased.

    Ricardt, not knowing what to do, answered vaguely.

    ¡°I see¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a pigment merchant, and as a token of gratitude for saving my life, I¡¯ll present you with a cloak when we get to the city. Would you prefer red or blue?¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ My family¡¯s colors are red, so suppose red would be nice.¡±

    ¡°Ah, as expected from a noble young master, you have good taste. Originally, only the suprememander of the Emperor¡¯s army could wear a red cloak. And not all reds are the same. There¡¯s a mineral called cinnabar that makes a red color like blood when ground. The people who mine it go mad or die soon after, so they use convicts or ves to do it. It¡¯s more expensive than gold.¡±

    What is he talking about? The merchant was talking excessively. It seemed he was one of those people who talk a lot when nervous.

    ¡°¡­Although the practice of using different colors ording to rank has fallen out of use these days, purple is still reserved for His Majesty the Emperor¡­¡±

    ¡°Just a moment.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°How long would it have taken to cross the pass if we hadn¡¯t met these bandits?¡±

    ¡°We started in the morning, so we would¡¯ve crossed the pass byte afternoon.¡±

    ¡°Then we should start moving now.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve killed the leaders, and even if there are some bandits left, they¡¯re fewer in number than us. It should be safe to go now.¡±

    Hearing this, it made sense. There might be only one or two bandits left alive, if any.

    ¡°Before that, shouldn¡¯t we take their heads?¡±

    ¡°Take their heads?¡±

    ¡°The Vilton brothers were quite notorious wanted men. We¡¯re not far from Reinfurt, so we could take the heads without salting them. Bringing them to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild would earn us a substantial sum.¡±

    Really? Ricardt hadn¡¯t thought of that. Deciding to take their heads, he went ahead with the beheading. Actually, it was more urate to say he sawed them off rather than cleanly cut them.

    The heads were ced in a cloth sack, which quickly became soaked with blood, dripping onto the bottom. This was then ced in a basket and loaded onto the carriage.

    They fed the horses and donkeys plenty of carrots. They deserved it after all they¡¯d been through. With people working together to push the carriage, they barely managed to get over the rocky obstacles.

    At the scene, there were bloodstains and eight corpses lying in a row, two of which were headless. No one buried them.

    As they reached the highest point of the mountain path and started descending, some of the men who had been hiding or had run away began to reappear one by one and rejoin the group.

    Despite abandoning their families, the women epted them back. After all, they too had left the children behind and fled, and not epting the men would make their future survival difficult. They had no choice. And they were people ustomed to living this way.

    Counting the dead and missing, it seemed there were about seven or eight. Though the victims were unfortunate, the survivors had to continue living resolutely.

    Daisy seemed to be in a constantly good mood, and Arno walked with his chest puffed out, overly proud.

    Ricardt felt that the world hadn¡¯t changed much in 100 years. There were bandits then, there were powerless people, and living was a struggle for everyone.

    By the time they had finished descended the mountain path, the sun had set. The people lit a campfire and prepared to camp for the night.

    Ricardt, with Daisy clinging to him like a leech, sat by the campfire. He pondered over the things his father had said about honor, salvation, family name, and such.

    He didn¡¯t hold his father¡¯s words too strictly, but he didn¡¯t dismiss them either.

    Ricardt let various thoughts breeze through his mind like an open door, lost in contemtion.

    The looks from the people ncing at the boy were quite peculiar. It was as if they were seeing a hero and a chilling demon at the same time.

    It was true that he had saved them, but casually slicing open people¡¯s stomachs and slitting throats was far from the image of a prince on a white horse.

    As the night deepened, the sight was reced by the sounds of frogs croaking as if awakening from hibernation, small owls hooting, and the crackling of the campfire bing clearer.

    And in the night sky, just like 100 years ago, the stars shone brightly.

 Chapter 10

    Chapter 10

    Trantor: Willia

    It was around noon when they arrived in Reinfurt city. Although it was still cold in the mornings and evenings, it was a perfect spring weather when the sun was fully out.

    There was a line of people at the city gates, and for some reason those who weren¡¯t allowed entry had set up tents near the city walls to live.

    Traders did business with them, selling daily necessities and various goods. The outside of the city wall had be a living space in itself. Would the city eventually expand if they settledpletely and started building structures?

    In any case, the line moved faster than expected, and it was finally Ricardt¡¯s group¡¯s turn. Arno and the merchant verified their identities. It was then that they learned the merchant¡¯s name was Kaufmann.

    He dealt in dyes and pigments and seemed to run a small tradingpany. Considering he took his cart onto the mountain path despite knowing about the bandits, he didn¡¯t seem very bright.

    ¡°You killed the Vilton brothers? Who are they?¡±

    ¡°The bandit leaders. Wanted criminals. This is the famous Boar yer of Stormhertz, young master Ricardt. He sliced open their bellies and cut their throats in an instant. I saw it. I tell you, I saw it with my own eyes.¡±

    Arno chatted with the gate guard as if they were acquainted. However, despite Ricardt¡¯s disapproval, rumors kept getting exaggerated and new nicknames were attached. Boar yer, really.

    The guard stared at Ricardt. Blonde hair and hazel eyes. He looked quite scruffy from not being able to wash for a few days. To the guard, he seemed just like a kid.

    So, the guard thought Arno might be boasting, but Kaufmann silently nodded, confirming it as true.

    ¡°He only recently started his knight training, but he¡¯s naturally gifted.¡±

    While Ricardt said nothing, Arno spoke proudly, as if it was his own achievement.

    ¡°What knight training? Isn¡¯t it just running errands for the knights and maintaining their equipment?¡±

    ¡°What do you know?¡±

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know. But we¡¯ve both only heard stories. Anyway, wee to Reinfurt, young master.¡±

    The guard wasn¡¯t overly polite but showed the necessary respect.

    ¡°Come to Handel¡¯ster and I¡¯ll tell you more. I killed four bandits myself.¡±

    Hendel was the name of a tavern Arno often visited. The guard raised his eyebrows, not quite believing it.

    ¡°You? Well, alright. Move along now. I¡¯ve got work to do. Next!¡±

    The guard waved his arm broadly, calling the next person.

    Once they passed through the shaded city gate, sunlight again shone on Ricardt, revealing the city¡¯s neat buildings illuminating brightly.

    The roofs were gray, navy, or red tiles, and the walls were stered and neatly finished by professional masons. And generally, buildings were at least two stories high, clustered closely together.

    Honestly, the city¡¯s buildings looked better than the manor in Stormhertz where Ricardt grew up.

    That was because Stormhertz¡¯s manor was a kind of old castle built long ago. In fact, It was too small to be called a castle and too big to be an ordinary house, so it was simply called a manor.

    The people in the streets looked busy and their appearance was certainly better than the country folk of Stormhertz.

    Kaufmann told Ricardt to follow him as he would give him a cloak, then walked along the city wall.

    He headed to a ce where craftsmen gathered, the sound of iron being hammered resonated cheerfully, and tanners were seen working on leather. The smell of chemicals stung their noses.

    Kaufmann stopped the cart in front of a fabric shop, greeted a few acquaintances, and went inside, then came out holding a neatly folded red cloak. He handed it to Ricardt.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I must bid you farewell now, young master. Thanks to you, we arrived safely in the city. Please ept this. I made it a bit small because the material is expensive, but it seems fate has arranged it for you. Hahaha.¡±

    The cloak was as vividly red as blood. It was an incredibly expensive item, made entirely of material that cost as much as its weight in gold.

    Ricardt took off the cloak he was originally wearing and immediately put on the red cloak Kaufmann had given him. It had a hood and was a bit long, but once he fastened it with a sp, it was manageable.

    ¡°What about me?¡±

    Arno, who had been watching quietly from the side, asked Kaufmann. Kaufmann replied with a dissatisfied look, as if to say, ¡°Who are you?¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you run away at first? Those who take the risk from the beginning are the ones who get everything. It¡¯s the same in business and for those who achieve merit on the battlefield. If you want to settle ounts, get it from the young master.¡±

    It sounded both reasonable and unreasonable at the same time. Arno closed his mouth at the suggestion of asking Ricardt for a reward.

    ¡°Let¡¯s split it after we sell the heads.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine, young master. I was just kidding.¡±

    ¡°No, you did help me. But what¡¯s going to happen to those people?¡±

    Ricardt said, looking at the people unloading the goods from the cart.

    ¡°I¡¯ve decided to hire them. I was nning to expand my business anyway, so I needed more people. We¡¯ve been through life and death together, so it¡¯s better than hiringplete strangers, isn¡¯t it? They also need a ce to stay in the city for a while, so it worked out for both of us.¡±

    The people would likely be working dyeing cloth.

    From what he heard on the way, the reason these people left their territory was due to excessive taxes.

    Even after reducing their own food to pay the taxes, it wasn¡¯t enough, so they borrowed grain, and the interest ballooned.

    The funny thing was that the person who lent them the grain was the lord. The same lord who collected taxes also lent grain at high interest. The even funnier thing was that leaving the territory without the lord¡¯s permission was a crime.

    So were these people criminals, or victims of injustice? Ricardt just felt a sense of kinship with them.

    But there was nothing more he could do for them. Their connection ended here.

    At that moment, someone tugged at Ricardt¡¯s clothes. Ricardt wasn¡¯t surprised because he thought he knew who it was. He turned his head and saw that it was indeed Daisy.

    ¡°I¡¯ll feed you and give you a ce to sleep and do everything for you, so let¡¯s live together. We¡¯re husband and wife after all.¡±

    Her voice was slightly tearful. Ricardt, feeling awkward, couldn¡¯t say anything, but Arno, with fiery eyes, spoke up.

    ¡°This girl doesn¡¯t know her ce because the young master has been too kind. Hey, you filthy girl. At least wash up before saying something like that. Have some shame.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be so harsh¡­¡­¡±

    Ricardt said weakly. Arno¡¯s tongue seemed sharper than the sword he wielded.

    ¡°No, young master. What did I say? If you¡¯re too kind, they climb over you. Know your ce, you girl. Stop clinging to the young master and get lost.¡±

    Daisy¡¯s face twisted as if she was about to burst into tears. But she didn¡¯t cry in the end. She seemed to have some inner strength. However, she clung tightly to Ricardt¡¯s new cloak.

    Daisy¡¯s mother, who was organizing the luggage, ran over and quickly pulled her daughter away.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, my lord. The child still doesn¡¯t understand¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright. I¡¯m not upset.¡±

    When Ricardt spoke kindly with a smile, Daisy¡¯s mother showed an expression hard to describe with words. It looked like she was moved, yet couldn¡¯t quite believe it.

    ¡°¡­¡­You have such a kind heart¡­¡­ And thank you. Oh, God of Judgement, please close your eyes to the young master.¡±

    Daisy¡¯s mother extended her hand and covered her eyes with the back of it. God of Judgment? What is that? Was it a deity worshipped by the peasants? At least, it was something he had never heard of in Stormhertz.

    Anyway, hearing a sincere thank you from someone else felt rather strange. It was like his heart was softening.

    ¡°Take care. Daisy, and Mr. Kaufmann too. If we¡¯re alive, we might meet again someday.¡±

    Ricardt, leaving behind this brief encounter, followed Arno toward the Beringen Adventurers¡¯ Guild. Only then did Daisy bury her face in her mother¡¯s embrace and start sobbing.

    Just as there are shadowy ces where there is sunlight, so it was with Reinfurt city.

    When they first passed through the city gate, the clean buildings and paved roads were impressive, but upon entering the alleyways and reaching the slums, he thought there couldn¡¯t be a more miserable ce.

    The clogged sewers emitted a stench of mixed filth. It was a hell for humans and a paradise for rats.

    However, one interesting point was that this area wasn¡¯t entirely gloomy.

    People drunk in broad daylight shouted boisterously, and theughter of cheap prostitutes was lively, if you could call it that. It didn¡¯t lessen the misery, but still.

    ¡°Is the Adventurers¡¯ Guild really in a ce like this¡­? Are we in the right ce?¡±

    Feeling they had taken a wrong turn, Ricardt asked Arno, who also looked uncertain and tilted his head.

    ¡°It¡¯s my first time here too, but I heard it¡¯s near a ghost tree. Just a moment, we¡¯re almost there.¡±

    Turning the corner, they saw a tree that seemed to have been dead for a long time. The thick trunk was twisted, looking as if it were a person screaming.

    The area around ir was a vacant lot filled with garbage, and there were shabby buildings nearby where people wereing and going out of. Surely that couldn¡¯t be it, he thought.

    Arno, having been full of confidence after killing bandits, now felt deted, like a balloon losing air. Because this was clearly a high-crime area.

    It wasmon for people to be killed and their bodies thrown into the sewer, and no one cared, nor were the incidents usually reported.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go and ask anyway.¡±

    Still, thinking that nothing could happen in broad daylight, Arno approached the people at the entrance.

    It was unclear if they were guarding the entrance or just hanging around out of boredom, but they were sitting on piles of broken wooden debris, rolling dice on a small table.

    ¡°Excuse me, may I ask you something? Is this the Beringen Adventurers¡¯ Guild branch?¡±

    At that, the people who had been intently watching the dice roll all turned their heads to look at Arno, and also at Ricardt standing behind him.

    ¡°Who are you?¡±

    One of the men, with a scar on his eye, asked in a somewhat confrontational tone rather than simply answering.

    ¡°I¡¯m a courier from the Imperial Guild Bureau. I have some business here.¡±

    ¡°Imperial? Guild Bureau? What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°I said, what the fuck is that?¡±

    The man growled as if he were a rabid dog.

    Arno, having only asked a question, was taken aback and scared by the sudden aggression and stared nkly, at a loss for words. They don¡¯t know the Empire? What does that mean?

    ¡°Arno, step back.¡±

    Ricardt spoke from behind then, his expression unchanged but his eyes were cold.

    While Arno was caught in indecision, Ricardt loosened the strap of the basket he was carrying on his shoulder. He then took the basket and walked toward the people.

    As the kid in the red cloak approached, the people looked at him as if wondering what this was all about.

    Ricardt briefly stared at the man with the scar, then poured the contents of the basket onto the table littered with dice, copper coins, and gambling chips.

    Thud. ng.

    The contents seemed quite heavy, making the coins jingle as they scattered across the table.

    Until this moment, the people were starting to frown, ready to pounce at any moment, but when Ricardt swiftly uncovered the cloth wrapped around the objects, the situationpletely changed.

    ¡°Eek!¡±

    ¡°Fuck! What the hell!¡±

    Crash!

    Including the man with the scar, the people jumped up or fell backward, trying to get away from the severed heads as quickly as possible.

    ¡°Guys! Come out!¡±

    Someone shouted, and as if they had been waiting, men rushed out from inside the building. They naturally formed a circle around Arno and Ricardt.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on? What¡¯s happening?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s this, what¡¯s this?¡±

    ¡°What the fuck is this?¡±

    The men who came out spotted the heads rolling on the table and widened their eyes. Arno, not knowing what to do in this situation, rolled his eyes like a frightened rabbit.

    While everyone else was scared or confused, only Ricardt remained unfazed, speaking as if he was in control of the entire situation.

    ¡°These are the heads of the Vilton brothers. I¡¯vee to collect the bounty.¡±

 Chapter 11

    Chapter 11

    Trantor: Willia

    It was a ordinary-looking tavern. It was old, but there didn¡¯t seem to be any significant decay or major structural issues.

    The hall had a bar, tables, and a staircase leading to an upper floor with a railing that offered a clear view of the ground floor below.

    The wooden walls were marred with chaotic knife marks, as if marking a beast¡¯s territory. It silently testified that this ce was far from ordinary.

    Unlike other taverns in slums, it wasn¡¯t particrly noisy.

    People were quietly conversing, ying cards, sipping drinks, throwing daggers at the wall instead of darts, or inhaling smoke from burning something like mugwort.

    Away from these people, in a secluded corner, were some lightly armed individuals sitting or leaning against the wall.

    One of the seated individuals had a rather fierce looking face, but on closer inspection, he didn¡¯t seem very old. Around 18 to 20 years old.

    He was frowning deeply as if he¡¯d seen something unpleasant. He had his head half-turned, his gaze forcibly directed at something on the table.

    On the table was the severed head of the Vilton brothers.

    ¡°Right. So, get rid of this fucking shit quickly.¡±

    The fierce-looking man spoke. Then, one of the nearby people grabbed the severed head by the hair and took it away.

    The man, feeling nauseated, spat on the floor once and took a sip of the strong liquor in his wooden cup. Then he looked at the people sitting across from him.

    It was Arno and Ricardt. One looked like a novice, and the other was excessively young. They didn¡¯t fit in this ce at all, and bringing the Vilton brothers¡¯ heads was even more incongruous.

    However, he didn¡¯t inquire about their reasons or circumstances.

    ¡°Those fucking bastards were so fucked up that, despite the low difficulty, the reward is quite substantial. 30 silver coins each. Here, take a look.¡±

    He ced a document on the table. It had sketches of the Vilton brothers, along with their characteristics and criminal records. Skimming it, words like ¡°women¡±, ¡°human trafficking¡± caught the eye.

    It also bore the seals of the Imperial Court and the chief constable, indicating a reward of one gold coin each for capturing them alive, or 30 silver coins each for bringing their heads.

    Then he ced a small pouch of coins on the table.

    ¡°Sixty in total. Count and sign.¡±

    Without a word, Ricardt pulled the pouch towards him, loosened the string, and fingered through the coins a few times. He quickly spoke.

    ¡°Two are missing.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I said two are missing.¡±

    Did he count all the coins in that brief moment? And not by taking them out but just by roughly feeling them?

    ¡°Huh¡­ You¡¯ve got good eyes, kid. The two are a fee. Alright?¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡±

    Ricardt immediately agreed and took out 29 silver coins from the pouch.

    ¡°This is Arno¡¯s share. Arno. Arno!¡±

    ¡°Huh? Oh, yes!?¡±

    Arno, who had been looking around with a clearly terrified expression, finally snapped to attention when Ricardt called him.

    ¡°These are yours, Arno. 29 coins. It was supposed to be 30 each, but two were taken as a fee.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes¡­¡±

    Arno, who had grown cocky after killing a few bandits, seemed to have shrunk back considerably, looking dazed and intimidated.

    He didn¡¯t even think to refuse out of politeness, and he didn¡¯t seem capable of feeling happy about receiving 29 silver coins, a considerable sum.

    It was understandable since Arno felt like he was inside a tiger¡¯s den and wanted to leave this ce as soon as possible.

    After a briefmotion outside, he had followed when told toe along, but now he felt he had definitelye to the wrong ce.

    ¡°By the way, is this really the Beringen Adventurers¡¯ Guild branch?¡±

    Ricardt asked the fierce-looking man while signing the document. The signature was simply his name, but his handwriting, reminiscent of his mother, was as graceful as willow tree branches.

    ¡°No. This is the Eisen Brotherhood¡¯s building. To put it simply, it¡¯s a Thieves¡¯ Guild.¡±

    The fierce-looking man spoke nonchntly as he sorted the documents. However, Arno¡¯s eyes widened at the mention of the Thieves¡¯ Guild.

    ¡°What?¡±

    This was because the Thieves¡¯ Guild was an organization of criminals iparable to mere bandits.

    It was structured, professional, disciplined, secretive, and known for sure retribution.

    Moreover, Arno, who traveled frequently for work but resided in Reinfurt, was shocked because he had heard rumors of the Eisen Brotherhood.

    In fact, it was impossible not to know them. Living in Reinfurt and not knowing about the Eisen Brotherhood was like risking half your life.

    Ricardt looked at Arno once as if to ask what was going on, then asked the man sitting across the table again.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you an adventurer?¡±

    ¡°I am. But you know, a job title is just a name, right? The Nord people do both raiding and trading.¡±

    ¡°Then what about the branch? The Beringen Adventurers¡¯ Guild.¡±

    ¡°That guy, that guy, that guy, and I are all adventurers affiliated with the Beringen Guild. The rest are out right now. The rest of the members are out right now. Us being here, well, you could say we¡¯re indebted to them for now. Though it¡¯s been quite a while. Whether for work or money, it¡¯s better to be on good terms with the thieves¡¯ guild if you want to do well as an adventurer.¡±

    It was questionable whether you could call this a branch when they were holed up in a thieves¡¯ guild building, but it seemed even Arno didn¡¯t know much about it, and things seemed to run somewhat haphazardly.

    Ricardt couldn¡¯t quite understand why the adventurers¡¯ guild was entangled with the thieves¡¯ guild.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Why? Because you need information to get things done.¡±

    ¡°Is that how it works?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s how it works. Now, let me ask you a question. How did you kill the Vilton brothers?¡±

    ¡°We just ambushed them while hiding.¡±

    ¡°Is it that simple? No matter how I think about it, I don¡¯t think I could have done something like that when I was your age.¡±

    ¡°Everyone¡¯s different.¡±

    ¡°But this seems quite different, though. Anyway, do you have any other business with me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m looking for a guide to take me to the Beringen Academy.¡±

    ¡°Why that henhouse?¡±

    ¡°Henhouse?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a henhouse alright. What business do you have there?¡±

    Instead of exining, Ricardt took out an admission letter from his bag and showed it. This time, not only the fierce-looking man but also his nearby colleagues were surprised.

    ¡°Wow! What is this!? Those bastards making things like this now too!?¡±

    ¡°What is it? Wow, why does this look so convincing?¡±

    ¡°Wait, are you a noble?¡±

    The man was even more surprised to see the sentence wishing for the good fortune of the Caldebert family.

    ¡°Yes. Why?¡±

    ¡°Something¡¯s wrong here.¡±

    ¡°What is?¡±

    ¡°That ce isn¡¯t meant for kids like you.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? Exin.¡±

    ¡°More than half of the students there are bastards. The rest aremoners. There aren¡¯t any proper nobles like you.¡±

    This was surprising, or rather, unexpected. Ricardt had unconsciously thought that the academy would be filled with kids in simr situations to his.

    Bastards were just bastards. Neither nobles normoners, just bastards. Lives born from unblessed unions, living unfortunate fates.

    Nobles openly despised them, andmoners cursed them behind their backs. Bastards were respected by neither social ss.

    Of course, there were cases where a head of a family acknowledged them, and some bastards carved out their own lives, but those were very rare.

    However, did that matter? Perhaps due to his upbringing, Ricardt didn¡¯t care much about social status. In his previous life, he had killed indiscriminately.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter. I decided to be an adventurer myself.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Why?¡±

    ¡°To find out if the war was worth it.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°The Eastern Expedition Territory. The war a hundred years ago. So many people suffered and died painfully. Don¡¯t you wonder if it was worth it?¡±

    The man looked perplexed, as if he¡¯d bitten into something bitter. What is this kid talking about? Why do you care about that?

    ¡°If you join a knight order, you can gain honor. If you be a mercenary officer, you can at least make money. Why be an adventurer of all things?¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll just get both as an adventurer. Honor and money.¡±

    The man looked at Ricardt with a strangely twisted face. This kid doesn¡¯t seem right in the head.

    ¡°Haha. Right. You can get both. Anyway, it¡¯s rare to see a junior here. Let¡¯s change the location. It¡¯s too gloomy here.¡±

    The person leaning against the wall spoke. Although it was hard to tell with the hood on, it was a woman¡¯s voice. The fierce-looking man blinked a few times and nodded.

    ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s move somewhere else for now. I¡¯ve been in the shadows so long, I feel like my face is growing mold. Follow me, young junior. Fust, keep an eye on the ce.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    The fierce-looking man stood up and gestured for Ricardt to follow as he walked deeper into the building.

    Ricardt naturally followed him, but suddenly turned to look at Arno. Arno was hesitating.

    ¡°Thanks, Arno.¡±

    Then he simply followed the fierce-looking man, leaving Arno behind. It seemed somewhat cold-hearted, whether intentional or not.

    Arno just blinked. Are we parting ways just like that?

    The Thieves¡¯ Guild building was bigger and wider than expected. It connected to an underground passage, with a stream flowing in the middle and pathways on both sides.

    The underground passage was like a maze with many branching paths,plex and old, yet still very sturdy. When was this built? Was it made by humans?

    After following the fierce-looking man and his two colleagues through the passage, they reached a sunny riverside. Smuggling ships came and went along the river, and there was a dock.

    Smuggling meant bringing things in secretly, but there wasn¡¯t any feeling of secrecy or caution here.

    The river breeze blew, sweeping away the city¡¯s stench and refreshing their stifled chests.

    ¡°Now, this is more like it.¡±

    They reached a ce with wooden crates, and the woman sat downfortably. As she took off her hood, her unexpectedly pretty face was revealed in the sunlight.

    Her brown hair was pulled back tightly in a ponytail, which suited her well due to her pretty head shape.

    After briefly watching the sunlit river, she spoke to Ricardt.

    ¡°Nice to meet you. I¡¯m Sandy. The ugly guy here is tter, and this is Boden.¡±

    The fierce-looking man was tter, and the silent one was Boden.

    It seemed like the names were chosen hastily, a characteristic of bastards. They often took names from things like leaves, dirt, and sand.

    Noble names like Ricardt, Abelich, or Vilter, on the other hand, meant things like strong warrior, glorious fury, or protector. The origins of the names were different from the start.

    ¡°So, you need someone to go with you to the academy?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Want to go with big sister?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    Ricardt readily agreed. Sandy kept smiling as if she found Ricardt adorable.

    ¡°Hey, shouldn¡¯t we at least introduce him to the henhouse or exin what his life will be like from now on?¡±

    tter, who was pulling a bottle of alcohol out of a crate, said.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t Boden good at exnations? You¡¯re our information guy, after all.¡±

    ¡°¡­Does it take information to exin a henhouse?¡±

    ¡°But why do you call it a henhouse?¡±

    Just as they were about to bicker among themselves, Ricardt interjected and asked. Boden answered.

    ¡°The beds are crammed together. Bunk beds. The remaining space is only enough for one person to walk through, and 120 people live together there. For two years.¡±

    Just thinking about it seemed unpleasant, as both Sandy and tter grimaced and shook their heads in disgust.

    Boden spoke in a calm tone.

    ¡°It¡¯s not toote to turn back, young master. It¡¯s better to go back. I don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve heard that makes you want to go there, but it¡¯s not as romantic as you think. Not at all.¡±

    It was a sincere piece of advice from experience, not an attempt to scare or test him. However, Ricardt¡¯s response was unexpected.

    ¡°A roof to keep the rain off and a ce to sleep that isn¡¯t the cold hard ground is luxury enough, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Living itself is painful anyway. Don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Words that shouldn¡¯te from a child¡¯s mouth were spoken. The words sounded cynical, but his expression showed no signs of resignation or despair.

    People who weren¡¯t familiar with Ricardt often found this aspect of him surprising, and Boden was no different.

    ¡°¡­How have you been living, exactly?¡±

    Unlike Boden, tter took a sip of his drink, exhaled a hot breath, and simply nodded in agreement.

    ¡°Phew, you¡¯ve got a point.¡±

    ¡°It feels strange to hear that from our young junior. There was a reason I was drawn to you.¡±

    Sandy also smiled gently. Living as a bastard meant experiencing more sorrow and heartbreak than anyone else.

    ¡°By the way, I heard that most of the academy students either be half-cripples or die. Is that true?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s true.¡±

    ¡°Why? What kind of academy is that? Isn¡¯t it a very honorable thing to be sponsored by the royal family? But then why do they do such dishonorable things at the academy?¡±

    ¡°Honor? Haha, I¡¯m surprised you even use such an old-fashioned word. You really are a noble, I guess. But that¡¯s the problem. The fact that the royal family gives money. Because of that, they fight each other fiercely. If other guilds disappear, we get to eat more.¡±

    Laughing at the word ¡°honor¡±, Sandy exined, leaning back and shaking her head.

    ¡°I don¡¯t quite understand.¡±

    ¡°So, the money given by the royal family is fixed. But since there are multiple guilds, it gets divided. If other guilds disappear, we get more. It¡¯s said that the ces sponsored by the royal family are more brutal because the area is so small. It¡¯s best not to mess with them. They¡¯re always angry.¡±

    Even Ricardt, who rarely showed emotional disturbance, was taken aback. They kill each other over money? Well, it¡¯s no different from going to the battlefield, he supposed.

    ¡°After being exploited in the henhouse for two years, if you survive, you¡¯re thrown into battles for three years. Then you¡¯re divided into upper, middle, and lower ranks, and after that, you can either take the final exam or be an adventurer like us by signing a contract. The main jobs are¡­ you¡¯re smart, so you exin.¡±

    Sandy turned to Boden.

    When Sandy looked at Boden and spoke, Boden responded with a nonchnt expression.

    ¡°Catching and punishing bad guys, hunting beasts or monsters, transporting goods, escorting caravans, , doing what those above tell us to do, taking on requests thate in, official jobs, unofficial jobs. Unofficial ones are things like assassination.¡±

    ¡°So, you do whateveres your way.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you go to the Eastern Expedition Territory, I mean, Fernd?¡±

    ¡°I think that¡¯s the final exam site. Only those ranked top in the ss go there. They¡¯re monsters in terms of skills and guts. As you can see, we¡¯re not top ss, so we don¡¯t know much about it. They say passing the final exam makes you the Emperor¡¯s Champion.¡±

    A champion referred to a great warrior. It was an ancient tradition where someone would fight on behalf of a noble who was either too old orcked the skill in a duel.

    Typically, close rtives or friends would step in, and being a Champion for a high-ranking person was considered highly honorable. Many bads celebrated Champions, known as the Champion¡¯s Bads.

    However, in reality, kings or emperors rarely had to duel. So, the title of the Emperor¡¯s Champion was an honorary title that practically meant being the Emperor¡¯s problem-solver. It was different from the Emperor¡¯s personal guard.

    ¡°By the way, what¡¯s your name again?¡±

    Sandy asked as she fiddled with her already tidy hair.

    ¡°Ricardt.¡±

    ¡°That feels so distant. Don¡¯t you have a nickname or something?¡±

    Ricardt was a name that anyone could tell belonged to a noble.

    ¡°Ricky.¡±

    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s bold.¡±

    ¡°What? Isn¡¯t it amon nickname?¡±

    ¡°Still, it¡¯s the same name as the Immortal Ricky.¡±

    Just when he thought he could forget, talk of his past life came up, and Ricardt felt bitter inside.

    ¡°It¡¯s a coincidence. But I don¡¯t think he¡¯s immortal.¡±

    ¡°No one could kill him, and no one saw him die. Some people even believe he¡¯s a god. They call it the Order of Judgment? And he¡¯s special to us too. Because all that suffering in the henhouse was to try to be like him.¡±

    ¡°¡­What do you mean, be like him?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s the legendary Sword Master. A person whose de emits light and can cuts through rocks, and fights with the strength of an army thanks to his superhuman physical abilities and endurance. Many kids die trying to follow in his footsteps even a little bit.¡±

    What is this nonsense? Ricardt was dumbfounded. He felt the dark shadow of his past life looming over him.

    Or was it the shadow of his current self? A shadow that he couldn¡¯t escape no matter how hard he tried.

    ¡°It¡¯s not necessarily like that.¡±

    While Ricardt was still reeling from the shock, tter spoke.

    ¡°Being a Sword Master is a dream that sounds too much like a fairy tale, but for me, it was a valuable time for me, at least.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had such masochistic tendencies.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that. We went through a lot, right? I think of us as family. If it weren¡¯t for the henhouse, could we have met and been together like this? I don¡¯t think so. If I had lived my life as a bastard and not be an adventurer¡­ what would I have be?¡±

    tter¡¯s drunken confession left his friends speechless. They just turned their heads to look at the river flowing by, reflecting the passage of time.

    ¡°Yeah, a lot of things happened¡­¡±

    Boden muttered to himself. It sounded like words loaded with many events, time, and meaning. Ricardt couldn¡¯t fully grasp it yet.

    But they didn¡¯t look up to Ricardt just because he was a noble, nor did they look down on him for being young. They tried to see Ricardt as he was.

    Though they were open-minded people, their daily lives were somewhat closed off.

    They didn¡¯t just chase money like mercenaries, nor did they solely pursue honor like knights, and they didn¡¯t live entirely in the shadows like the Thieves¡¯ Guild.

    They were simply people who trusted and relied on each other, living with a sliver of hope.

    This was Ricardt¡¯s first impression of adventurers.

    *****

 Chapter 12

    Chapter 12

    Trantor: Willia

    Ricardt decided to stay for a day at the inn rmended by Sandy. He could hear the sounds of rats scurrying across the ceiling and walls, but it was no different from when he lived in Stormhertz, so he didn¡¯t mind much.

    He washed in cold water, did hisundry, and crawled into a fresh nket, feeling the umted fatigue from walking and sleeping rough rush over him all at once.

    He was at an age where he should run around a lot, eat a lot, sleep a lot, and grow a lot. Without tossing or turning, Ricardt fell asleep instantly.

    But it felt like he had just blinked his eyes once when someone woke him, and he saw the dawn light streaming in through the window.

    ¡°Ricky, Ricky.¡±

    When he raised himself and looked around, it was Sandy. She was already prepared.

    ¡°Do we have to leave already?¡±

    ¡°No. We have some time. You can take your time getting ready.¡±

    ¡°Just a moment.¡±

    Ricardt rubbed his swollen eyes with his hand and got up from his spot in his underwear. Then he rummaged through his bag to take out some money. He had to pay for the guide service.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to give me money.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°How could I take money from our cute little young master junior?¡±

    ¡°Still.¡±

    ¡°I had to go to the headquarters anyway, so let¡¯s consider it as traveling together. How about it? Come on, raise your arms.¡±

    Sandy took Ricardt¡¯s clothes, which had been dried by the fire overnight, and tried to dress him. It was even ironed, making him wonder why she was going to such lengths.

    ¡°I had a younger brother about your age.¡±

    As if reading Ricardt¡¯s mind, Sandy exined why she was being so kind. But she didn¡¯t borate much. That was all.

    Ricardt looked up at Sandy as he put on his top, then smiled gently and said,

    ¡°Thank you, Sandy. Sandy, your heart is as beautiful as your face.¡±

    At this, Sandy¡¯s eyes widened a bit in surprise, then quickly returned to normal. A smile spread across her lips as well.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to break a lot of hearts when you grow up.¡±

    She even put on his shoes, which had also been thoroughly dried by the fire overnight, so they didn¡¯t smell at all. When he slipped his feet in, he felt a warm and pleasant sensation.

    ¡°Check if you¡¯ve lost anything. Let¡¯s have breakfast and leave right away.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Ricardt slung his bag over his shoulder and packed his dagger. Inside the bag were his admission letter, travel food, spare underwear, and travel money.

    When they left the room and went downstairs, they came upon a dark and deserted hall. It was dawn, so no one was around, and arge iron pot simmered with stew on the firece.

    Unidentifiable chunks floated in the bright red broth. It was called the Eternal Stew.

    It was a dish where random ingredients were constantly added, and water or alcohol was poured in from time to time, eating it as needed. So it never ran out and thus was called Eternal Stew.

    Sandydled two bowls and brought them to the table. They had to drink it or eat with their hands, as there were no spoons.

    Ricardt took a sip and found the taste indescribable ¨C somewhat sour and vaguely unpleasant, yet still edible.

    One thing was certain. Whether some magical powder was added or not, it had a curiously addictive taste.

    Ricardt blew on the bowl and took a sip, then suddenly had a question.

    ¡°The henhouse, do women stay there too?¡±

    ¡°No. Women have their own ce. There are about 80 of them. Why? Are you interested?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that. It¡¯s just that wielding swords seems a bit much for women. They¡¯re generally not as strong.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that? It¡¯s fine because of the Mana Drive. Women can learn the Mana Drive too, and it practically eliminates the difference in physical strength.¡±

    ¡°Mana Drive?¡±

    ¡°It originates from something called the Codex. It¡¯s a method used to enhance physical abilities or weapons through the mana in our bodies. It¡¯s different from the magic that wizards use, it¡¯s more physical. Sorry, I don¡¯t really understand it well myself. They don¡¯t exin it in detail to us either.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯ve learned it too, Sandy?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. But not just anyone can learn it. First, you have to be able to feel mana. Some people naturally start to feel it after struggling in the henhouse, others feel it quickly due to innate talent, and some can never feel it no matter how hard they try. And it doesn¡¯t end with just feeling mana. Increasing the amount of mana and purifying it without impurities is another level.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of this before. It sounds like some kind of magic.¡±

    Ricardt couldn¡¯t fully grasp what Sandy was talking about. Saying it was like a hundred years ago, yet he was doing something he had never tried, left him confused.

    ¡°If magic is something wizards learn through their heads, we learn it through physical training.¡±

    ¡°Then what do you mainly do in the henhouse to learn it?¡±

    ¡°Well, just things like improving flexibility, physical training, swordsmanship sses, hand-to-handbat, and meditation. Oh, and you have to pay a donation for each ss.¡±

    ¡°Donation?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re free to choose which sses to take. You don¡¯t have to take any. But if you don¡¯t, you won¡¯t be able topete. You also don¡¯t have to pay the donation, but if you don¡¯t, they make your life miserable. So the kids try to earn money in their spare time. Some get caught up in that, and some can¡¯t take it and leave.¡±

    In fact, donations weremon not only in the Adventurer Training Academy but also in academies for academic studies.

    There was no fixed tuition fee; you voluntarily paid the professors for their lectures.

    There were no grade levels, and you only had tasks toplete as you umted years.

    Listening closely to Sandy, Ricardt began to form a rough picture in his mind of how the academy worked.

    And as he listened to Sandy, the stew had cooled enough to eat, and Ricardt could finally start his meal.

    By the time he had eaten about half, Sandy had already finished. She spoke again.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. If I had to do it again, I probably couldn¡¯t, but like tter said, it wasn¡¯t a meaningless time.¡±

    ¡°I understand what you mean. Going through hardships and adversities together can make you feel closer than blood brothers.¡±

    ¡°¡­What kind of life have you lived?¡±

    ¡°Haha, it¡¯s just something I heard.¡±

    Ricardt thought of his fellowrades dying in his previous life. He couldn¡¯t remember each one, but bond between fellowrades was definitely a special bond.

    The belief that they would be willing to give their lives for you, and you for them. Moments ofughter as they promised not to thank each other for saving lives, and not to mourn if someone died.

    Ricky had lost more of theserades than anyone else. Each time one of them died, it felt like something inside him died too.

    Ricardt felt mncholic as he recalled old memories, gulping down the stew without really chewing the contents, as if swallowing his tears.

    ¡°You¡¯re really strange.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°You look like a young master who¡¯s never had a hard day in his life, yet you took the head of the Vilton brothers. But now, you seem somewhat pitiful. You¡¯ll really make a lot of girls cry.¡±

    ¡°Will you cry too, Sandy?¡±

    At Ricardt¡¯s joke, Sandy burst intoughter. Ricardtughed along with her.

    ¡°You¡¯re still young, you know? Maybe in about ten years, noona will think about it.¡±

    ¡°By then, you¡¯ll have to stand in line.¡±

    Sandyughed even louder. He was indeed a peculiar young master. He had neither the arrogance typical of nobles nor the timidity typical of someone his age. He had a certain calmness about him.

    ¡°Are you done eating? Shall we go?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    The two of them stood up. The outside world was painted in a deep, watery color. The dawn air was a bit chilly but felt refreshing.

    Unlike the side roads they had used to reach Reinfurt, the path to Beringen was a main road. They asionally passed travelers, migrants, and merchants.

    Most were armed or hired armed guards, but the mere presence of many people suggested rtive safety.

    About three or four hours after leaving the city, the world, initially a shade of navy blue, began to find its colors. Green sprouts, pink flowers, blue sky, white clouds.

    Unlike Arno, Sandy was very considerate. Even though it wasn¡¯t necessary, she took frequent breaks for Ricardt.

    She often tidied his hair, joked more and more, and the distance between them grew closer when they rested. Ricardt thought this kind ofpanionship wasn¡¯t bad at all. No, he liked it.

    He was curious about Sandy¡¯s younger brother but didn¡¯t ask. He didn¡¯t want to spoil her mood.

    They came to a fork in the road, and on the right path was a heavy knee-high stone marker. The marker had ¡°Beringen¡± inscribed on it.

    ¡°From here, if we walk slowly, it will take three days to reach Beringen. If we walk quickly, we can make it in two days. There are four days left until the 14th, so what do you think?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go slowly.¡±

    Sandy smiled pleasantly at the suggestion to go slowly. Thus, their steps were slow but light.

    Eventually, the paved road ended. The regr dirt path stretched into the forest, and the two continued walking through the woods.

    By midday, they arrived at a solitary hut with a waterwheel turning beside it.

    ¡°This is Waltz¡¯s tavern. It¡¯s been run by the same family for three generations. Most rookies can¡¯t do anything here. Waltz has many connections and is good at fighting himself.¡±

    ¡°Shall we have a meal here then?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll pay. For thedy.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be silly. I told you not to do that.¡±

    Ricardt demonstrated textbook noble etiquette. However, knowing Sandy disliked such gestures, he said it as a joke.

    Sandy wasn¡¯t fond of noble pretensions. She liked Ricardt because he was a noble who didn¡¯t act like one.

    The two entered Waltz¡¯s tavern. Inside, there were a few customers already, lightly armed, giving off the vibe of adventurers.

    However, being adventurers didn¡¯t mean they knew each other. Even if they were from the same guild, different branches or ns made them strangers.

    Moreover, if they were from different guilds, they might even try to kill each other outright, so encountering another adventurer wasn¡¯t always pleasant.

    Waltz¡¯s tavern was special, serving as a sort of neutral ground.

    Sandy walked straight to Waltz and ordered food. There wasn¡¯t a specific menu; the food was made with whatever ingredients were avable at the time.

    Fortunately, it wasn¡¯t something like Eternal Stew. It was just corn soup and smoked meat.

    The two sat at a table, having a pleasant but trivial conversation. Sandy shared amusing and absurd memories from her time at the academy, and Ricardt chimed in with agreement.

    Then, before their food arrived, someone else entered the tavern. It was two men, and after looking around, they spotted Sandy.

    Sandy noticed them too, and she quickly turned her head and pulled up her hood, seemingly not wanting to be recognized. But it appeared to be toote.

    The two men approached, and one of them grinned as he spoke.

    ¡°Look who it is! Isn¡¯t it Sandy, the whore of Beringen? You see this too?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but I didn¡¯t know she was into kids now. How did you handle those old men?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    Sandy couldn¡¯t say anything. Ricardt was also too stunned to speak as well.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Sandy suddenly stood up and left the tavern without even touching the food they had ordered. Ricardt followed her.

    Outside, Sandy walked quickly. Ricardt jogged a little to catch up with her, but Sandy continued to walk briskly, almost as if trying to shake him off.

    He kept alternating between jogging and walking to keep up. Then Sandy abruptly stopped and, without looking back, spoke with her hood still on.

    ¡°It¡¯s true.¡±

    ¡°What is?¡±

    ¡°What they said is true. I wasn¡¯t skilled enough to be a senior. It wasn¡¯t all good memories.¡±

    Ricardt stared at her back and then spoke.

    ¡°So what?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Did you think I¡¯d find you dirty?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know. You have no idea what real filth is.¡±

    Sandy turned to look at Ricardt. Her eyes were filled with tears of shame and humiliation.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go. I¡¯ll share what my sister-inw made. It¡¯s delicious.¡±

    This time, Ricardt started walking first. Sandy stood there, seemingly lost in thought, before following the boy.

    The forest was shaded by trees, but it was still midday, so it wasn¡¯t dark. They walked along the path, with sunlight filtering through the branches.

    After walking silently for a while, they saw someone leaning against a tree up ahead. It was the man who had called Sandy a whore. Somehow, he had gotten ahead of them and was waiting.

    Looking back, they saw hispanion standing behind them.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    Sandy asked, showing hostility. The man grinned as he replied.

    ¡°We¡¯re from the same academy. How about some service?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re crazy.¡±

    ¡°The old men are fine, but not someone young like me? And yet, you like kids?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like that. He¡¯s an academy entrant.¡±

    ¡°Oh, really? Are you trying to seduce him and take him to that henhouse? Do you get a reward for recruiting clueless kids?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like that. Move. Our n won¡¯t stay quiet about this.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a bunch of weaklings going to do about it?¡±

    It seemed this wasn¡¯t just a prank. Sandy pulled out her sword and whip, which were tied to her waist. She spoke quietly to Ricardt.

    ¡°Run. No matter what, get to that tavern and contact our people in Reinfurt.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll protect you no matter what. Don¡¯t worry. Just run, no matter what.¡±

    At that moment, the two adventurers approached from the front and back, drawing their weapons.

    ¡°What¡¯s she babbling about? Do you think we¡¯ll let him run away?¡±

    The man in front approached slowly, then swung the sword in his hand sideways. The bush was cleanly cut in a straight line.

    At the same time, he closed the distance at a speed that was hard for the average person to follow, moving like the wind.

    Sandy quickly swung her whip, but he ducked and dodged in that brief moment, approaching even faster.

    Sandy swung the sword in her other hand, and surprisingly, the opponent easily retreated.

    The reason he retreated was to divert attention. The real threat came from behind, where another man reached out to Ricardt.

    They seemed to intend to take him hostage to threaten Sandy. Their goal was never to injure her.

    The man behind reached out to grab Ricardt, but Ricardt twisted his body to dodge. At the same time, the assant felt a sharp pain in his wrist, and blood started pouring out.

    ¡°Ugh! Fuck!¡±

    He stepped back in shock, and Ricardt was already holding a dagger.

    The man approaching Sandy was also surprised, and this time he swung his sword at Ricardt like lightning.

    Sandy, sensing the skill difference, stepped back a little and was shocked at the sight.

    ¡°No!¡±

    Her scream echoed through the forest. However, the situation that unfolded was entirely different from the tragedy she anticipated.

    Ricardt held his dagger in a reverse grip and brought it down on the sword being swung at him.

    ng!

    The sound of metal shing rang out, and the opponent¡¯s sword broke. Losing the bnce from the broken sword, the man staggered.

    As the broken sword grazed Ricardt¡¯s hair and flew into the air, Ricardt used that brief moment to put his full weight into a kick aimed at the man¡¯s calf.

    With a crack, the man¡¯s knee buckled sideways, and he fellpletely to the ground.

    Despite his trained body, his left leg was numbed, and his mind went nk as he reflexively tried to get up.

    But he couldn¡¯t, because a sharp dagger was pointed at his throat.

    ¡°Don¡¯t move.¡±

    The cold warning fell on his face. He looked up at Ricardt, lifting his upper body slightly. Ricardt¡¯s expression was chillingly nk.

    Hispanion, bleeding from his wrist, stood frozen, unable to do anything, shocked by what was happening.

    In the heavy silence, Ricardt spoke again, coldly.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t this what you wanted?¡±

    ¡°W-what?¡±

    ¡°You just didn¡¯t expect to get beaten. This is the situation you wanted, right? Isn¡¯t it?¡±

    He was saying that they had started the fight and attacked with weapons, causing this situation themselves.

    ¡°¡­W-what are you¡­¡±

    ¡°Let me tell you something since you¡¯re trying to imitate me. If you don¡¯t understand the point of force, no matter how fast you are, it¡¯s useless. Mana or whatever means nothing. Got it?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡°And from now on, whether you want to or not, you¡¯ll be careful with your words.¡±

    Then Ricardt pierced the skin under his chin, stabbing through the tongue before pulling it back out.

    ¡°Aaagh! Gurgle! Gack! Hack!¡±

    The man tried to scream, but blood poured into his throat, causing him to choke and sputter.

    Ricardt wiped his dagger on the man¡¯s clothes, stood up, and sheathed it again.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Sandy was too shocked to move, frozen in ce, and Ricardt grabbed her wrist and led her away from the scene.

    The sun was briefly obscured by clouds, making the forest shade a bit darker.

    Chapter 3 ¨C Shadow of a Hundred Years Ago. End.

 Chapter 13

    Chapter 13

    Trantor: Willia

    The room wasn¡¯t soundproof, so the thumping noises of a couple next door came through unfiltered. The embarrassing moans could be heard continuously.

    However, Ricardt and Sandy, who were listening to those sounds in their inn room, showed no reaction at all.

    It was because of what had happened during the day, such embarrassing noises couldn¡¯t move their emotions that had be as hard and heavy as stone.

    Sandy leaned against the window, looking up at the night sky. Despite countless stars shining, darkness filled most of the sky.

    Eventually, the thumping sounds stopped. Silence settled between them for a while.

    ¡°What are you?¡±

    After about six hours of not saying a word since the incident, Sandy finally spoke.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Rochi became a senior adventurer with his own skills. Even if you could somehow kill the Vilton brothers with a surprise attack, it¡¯s not the same with Rochi.¡±

    There¡¯s a limit to being extraordinary; it was too extreme for a ten-year-old to overpower an adventurer who trained in Mana Drive and ranked high in the academypetitions.

    Ricardt thought for a moment before answering.

    ¡°Every movement has a single point where power is concentrated. It changes every moment, but if you turn the direction precisely at the right moment, they end up hurting themselves. Like aiming a spear at a charging wild boar¡¯s forehead. I don¡¯t need to stab it myself. It wasn¡¯t me who broke the sword, but that guy Rochi himself.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t an exact analogy, but it was simr to a counter in hand-to-handbat. It was applying that concept to weapons.

    ¡°So what does that mean¡­ It¡¯s easy to say, but how do you do that?¡±

    ¡°You get better with practice. Eventually, you can do it as naturally as breathing. On the battlefield, you don¡¯t have time to strike multiple times with a weapon. You have to kill one person at a time. Otherwise, you might die from a stray de or spear.¡±

    All martial arts are born and developed to suit their purpose and use. Battlefield swordsmanship is inevitably simple and deadly. Not just to kill more, but because that¡¯s how you survive.

    Sandy turned her head to gaze at Ricardt intently. He looked unmistakably like a cute young master.

    Surely, he hadn¡¯t participated in a war at his age, and even if he had, he couldn¡¯t have muchbat experience.

    ¡°You said you¡¯re from a knight family, right? Did your father teach you? From a young age?¡±

    ¡°Yes, something like that.¡±

    Ricardt glossed over it, and Sandy fell into thought for a while before speaking again.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen many talented kids. And I¡¯ve asionally seen monstrous geniuses who put those talented kids to shame. But I¡¯ve never seen anyone like you, Ricky.¡±

    ¡°Is that apliment?¡±

    ¡°Apliment? Hmm, let¡¯s say it is. But it¡¯s kind of¡­ scary.¡±

    ¡°Even now?¡±

    Sandy looked at Ricardt for a while without saying anything. She seemed to be contemting various aspects of Ricardt she had seen today.

    For some reason, the words Ricardt had said all day, ¡°So what,¡± kept ringing in her ears. The tone, the inflection, and the sincerity.

    Sandy raised her eyebrows yfully and smiled.

    ¡°Not as much of a kid as I thought?¡±

    ¡°Hahaha¡­¡±

    Ricardt justughed as well. Finally, the atmosphere seemed to lighten up a bit.

    It waste at night, and the two fell asleep in their underwear in the same bed. It was Ricardt¡¯s first time sleeping with a woman other than his mother.

    He hadn¡¯t really lied to Sandy, but there were things he hadn¡¯t told her. He found her pitiful. And, he was d she hadrades who were like brothers to her.

    Knowing that half-baked sympathy was the worst insult, he kept those thoughts to himself.

    And now, they would arrive at the academy tomorrow. The journey since leaving home was finallying to an end.

    Where there was meeting, there was parting. In Sandy¡¯s embrace, Ricardt recalled the people he had met along the way.

    Arno, Daisy, Kaufmann, Sandy¡¯srades, his family, and those who had fallen on the previous battlefield, one by one¡­

    The night deepened.

    The capital of Beringen, Beringen, was a military fortress city. This was because it was actually a territory responsible for defending the border region.

    To the east, there were low mountain ranges, and beyond them, forests inhabited by monsters that did not allow human passage. Goblins, orcs, undead, man-eating spiders, werewolves, trolls, and so on¡­

    Even if a individual creatures could be dealt with by humans, when they formed groups, it was utterly impossible for human strength to handle them.

    So it was a wise choice to just draw a border and not cross over to that side.

    History records asionally mentionrge-scale orc invasions, and humans have never sessfully repelled them.

    There were only records of orcs freely ravaging the area and gorging themselves, then withdrawing on their own after falling into internal strife.

    In other words, if monsters decided to invade on arge scale, it was considered a natural disaster like an earthquake, tsunami, or typhoon. All one could do was hope it would pass quickly.

    To the north, far away, there was the sea, a region where Norsemen who came by ship would appear.

    They were both traders and raiders; when the times were good, they simply traded, but if things went south, they wouldn¡¯t hesitate to wage war.

    Thus, the reason and purpose of Beringen¡¯s existence were to repel external invasions. Otherwise, it would be prey itself.

    Somehow preventing external invasions from prating deeper into the Empire was Beringen¡¯s role and an inescapable destiny.

    The Beringen fortress was built on a ttened hilltop, slightly higher than the surrounding area.

    A sturdy fortress wall encircled the entire hill, and inside lived about 200 people. The Count did not live there; instead, his estate manager was stationed there.

    More people lived below the hill. Like the traces of a water droplet spreading widely upon hitting the ground, about 10,000 people lived widely spread around the hill.

    They farmed, hunted, grazed livestock, and engaged inmerce and industry without relying on the fortress wall.

    However, the Beringen Academy was not located on either the hill or below it.

    A half-day¡¯s journey away from the city, atop a sheer rocky mountain, there was another small fortress resembling an outpost. That was the Beringen Academy. An old fortress repurposed into academy buildings.

    Climbing the narrow stairs along the cliff, one would encounter the fortress gate with an imposing and menacing inscription engraved on it.

    There was a boy gazing somewhat nkly up at the inscription. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, likely from the difficult climb.

    ¡°What? Who are you?¡±

    The boy snapped out of his daze at the sudden, somewhat provocative question.

    A person who appeared slightly older than him, roughly between 16 and 18 years old, was standing with a sword at his waist, looking at him sideways.

    ¡°Ah¡­ I¡¯m Boribori, I came from Dusen, I came on Mr. Hartmann¡¯s introduction, and he said I¡¯d be fed here and given a ce to sleep¡­¡±

    ¡°Bori, what? What did you say your name was?¡±

    ¡°Boribori.¡±

    ¡°Are you joking with me?¡±

    ¡°No, my real name really is Boribori¡­¡±

    The boy with the sword at his waist scowled as he looked at Boribori.

    With his tawny bowl-cut hair, slightly sad-looking eyes, a cute nose, and a ratherrge mouth, his age was hard to determine but he appeared to be around 10 to 12 years old and his height was typical for kids that age.

    The problem was that Boribori looked like a beggar.

    ¡°First, go wash up. You¡¯re fucking filthy right now.¡±

    ¡°S-sorry.¡±

    ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no ¡®sorry¡¯ here. Got it?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Ask one more time and you¡¯ll get beaten to a pulp, understand?¡±

    ¡°S-sorry¡­¡±

    ¡°This little¡­!¡±

    Thwack!

    The boy with the sword kicked Boribori in the stomach without warning. Boribori curled over, falling to his knees, unable to breathe properly.

    ¡°What do you not understand human speech, you little shit? Don¡¯t make me repeat myself. If you don¡¯t want to die. Filthy bastard.¡±

    He then grabbed Boribori by the hair and dragged him to the well in the inner courtyard. A few students passing by nced over, some snickering, but most paid no attention.

    The boy with the sword drew water from the well and poured it over Boribori without warning.

    SPLASH!

    Having been struck hard and doused with ice-cold water, Boribori shivered uncontrobly, unable to regain hisposure.

    ¡°Take off your clothes.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    Boribori reflexively almost said ¡°What?¡± but quickly shut his mouth and obeyed. He undressed in the open in broad daylight.

    Despite the situation being humiliating, he endured it. Having been born an illegitimate child, he had lived a life of persecution and bullying; this was nothing new to him.

    The boy with the sword doused him with water a few more times, then pointed with his thumb to a building.

    ¡°Throw away your clothes, wash up on your own, and go in there.¡±

    With that, he left.

    Cold, still aching from the kick, Boribori shivered as if he were a prisoner of war, standing naked and trembling.

    He drew water from the well and washed himself, the trembling refusing to subside.

    Among the students watching from afar, some were snickering as they looked on, including girls.

    Boribori scrubbed himself until no more dirt came off, then, covering his private parts with his hands, he headed to the building the boy with the sword had indicated.

    Cautiously opening the door and stepping inside, he was greeted by a narrow hallway that extended into a vast room lined with sixty double-decker beds stretching far into the distance.

    ¡°Who are you?¡±

    Another unfriendly question was thrown at him. It seemed these people showed hostility before showing any interest in strangers.

    ¡°Uh, I¡¯m Boribori. It¡¯s my first time here¡­¡±

    ¡°So what?¡±

    ¡°What? No, sorry, I mean¡­¡±

    Boribori couldn¡¯t even repeat himself or say sorry. He was at a loss for words.

    ¡°Don¡¯t disy your ugly ass here, go hide somewhere out of sight.¡±

    ¡°Did he say his name is Boribori? What kind of name is that? Hahaha.¡±

    ¡°Hey, if you¡¯re gonna die, do it somewhere far away. I¡¯ll kill you if I have to clean up your corpse, seriously.¡±

    The remarks came from all directions, none kind, all filled with contempt and disgust.

    But being told to hide was problematic with the beds packed so closely together; there was nowhere to go.

    Boribori, unable to dry himself, still naked, moved cautiously until he found an empty-looking bed and carefully sat there. Nearby kids snickered as he did.

    After a while, a few kids entered from the far side where the door was. One of them approached Boribori.

    This person wasrger than most adults and looked as if he could be in his forties.

    ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°¡­Yes?¡±

    ¡°Wanna die?¡±

    Boribori looked up at him nkly, feeling a deathly fear, while the snickering around him grew louder. The big kid red at theughing kids and spoke.

    ¡°Hey, you fucking bitches. You staying silent is even worse. You wanna die for real?¡±

    ¡°S-sorry, Molty. Hey,e over here.¡±

    A kid standing a bit away called to Boribori. Boribori quickly got up and went to him.

    ¡°This is an empty bed. Clean it up a bit and stay here.¡±

    The so-called empty bed was actually messy and littered with various kinds of trash.

    ¡°Th-thanks.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t say thanks here. No apologies either. When passing through the hallway, always step aside first.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡±

    ¡°Hierarchyes first here. It¡¯s not a strict rule, but generally, the ones using the top bunks are higher in the hierarchy, and the further inside you go, the stronger they are. If you want to get the spot you want or don¡¯t want to step aside in the hallway, you have to fight and win.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡°Use this to roughly dry yourself, and wear these clothes. They belonged to the kid who used this bed before.¡±

    They weren¡¯t new clothes. Moreover, they weren¡¯t even clean. But there was no room to be picky.

    Swallowing the words of thanks that reached his throat, Boribori silentlyposed himself.

    ¡°By the way, where did the kid who used this bed before go?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I said he¡¯s dead. Here, you have to earn money and make a living on your own. Seems he got caught up in a knife fight while working in the city.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much. There are safe jobs too. He pushed himself too hard because he needed money.¡±

    Boribori had nothing to say. Thoughts of having made a mistake bying here filled his mind. But where could he go if he left here? He was treated as a nuisance at home, and that ce was just as cruel as this one.

    Other kids were in the same situation. Sometimes, a few would leave, but more kids than expected didn¡¯t leave.

    It was because they felt a thin sense of belonging here that even their families couldn¡¯t provide.

    Boribori was no different. Born the son of a maid, he grew up watching the legitimate children torment his mother. The legitimate children even forced Boribori to join in on the torment.

    Mother, I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t live like this, he had said as he left.

    There wasn¡¯t a single kid here without a miserable story. If anything, they had it worse than Boribori.

    But that night, Boribori was forcibly covered with a nket and was beaten up. The kids shouted.

    ¡°Wee to the henhouse! Newbie!¡±

    He was beaten until he passed out, and when he woke up, it was morning. Most of the kids had gone to ss or to the city, except for a few resting inside.

    The ages ranged from 12 to 16, with significant differences in size depending on their growth.

    Boribori gradually adapted, moving around the dormitory, and although not close, he made a few acquaintances to talk to.

    A month passed, and during that time, he saw many new kids being hazed just like he had been.

    Then, there was a new kid who arrived wearing a red cloak. He had blond hair and hazel eyes. Unlike himself when he first arrived, he wasn¡¯t in rags and looked quite neat.

    ¡°Hey, who are you?¡±

    A kid near the newbie asked provocatively. Boribori watched from a little distance.

    ¡°Ricky.¡±

    The new kid was none other than Ricardt.

    ¡°You? That¡¯s quite a fancy name.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I asked what your name is.¡±

    ¡°Why do you need to know? You wanna die?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s better to be careful with your words if you don¡¯t mean them.¡±

    ¡°W-what did you say?¡±

    ¡°So, where¡¯s my spot? This is my first time here.¡±

    Boribori¡¯s eyes widened. Although he hadn¡¯t been here long, he had never seen such a bold new kid among the neers he¡¯d seen. They were all intimidated and beaten.

    It seemed that many other kids felt the same, as their attention naturally focused on the entrance.

    ¡°You, what kind of bastard are you? Do you really want to die?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, but I¡¯m not scared in the slightest. It doesn¡¯t suit you either.¡±

    ¡°W-what?¡±

    The kid picking a fight just blinked in disbelief.

    ¡°It¡¯s been a while since someone interesting came in.¡±

    Someone remarked. Then, as if they were determined to teach him a lesson, a few kids got off their beds and approached the neer. One of them quietly snuck up from behind with a nket.

    ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°This won¡¯t do. Let¡¯s beat you up a bit.¡±

    At that moment, the kid who had approached from behind threw the nket over Ricardt. The others immediately rushed in to stomp on him, but the kid facing Ricardt saw a sh in front of his eyes.

    Whack!

    Then came the sounds of a scuffle followed by a series of dull thuds.

    Thud! Whack! Thump! Crack!

    Boribori¡¯s eyes widened even more. He couldn¡¯t tell what had happened, but the result was that Ricardt was standing alone while the others were sprawled around him, groaning in pain.

    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­¡­ shit¡­¡­¡±

    Ricardt grabbed one kid by the hair and mmed his head into the nearby bedpost.

    Smack!

    The kid slumped down, blood streaming from his nose. Somehow, the nket had ended up in Ricardt¡¯s hand, and he alternated his gaze between the nket and the fallen kids.

    Then, he said something unbelievable.

    ¡°Oh, was this an initiation? Sorry. Want to try again?¡±

 Chapter 14

    Chapter 14

    Trantor: Willia

    The Eastern Expedition Territory, which took over a month to reach, was nothing short of hell. The soldiers were slumped over, discouraged, and frustrated, without any strength in that hell.

    When Ricky entered the camp tent after being assigned to the unit, he smelled an indescribable odor. A mixture of fire, steel, blood, and death.

    That night, Ricky was forcibly covered with a nket and beaten. Barely holding onto his sanity, he endured, and when the beating was over, a senior soldierughed and said,

    ¡°To survive in hell, you must be a demon. Wee, newbie.¡±

    At first, Ricky didn¡¯t participate in the battles. He was just busy running errands as the senior soldiers ordered.

    If he showed any confusion at unfamiliar terms he¡¯d never heard before, a fist would inevitably fly. The teaching came afterward.

    He had to empty thetrines, maintain weapons, and bring all sorts of necessities, even if it meant stealing them.

    When he finally went into battle and managed to pull his own weight, the errands decreased, and the swearing and beatings gradually disappeared.

    Then, when he had gained some experience, he participated in a battle with many casualties.

    He didn¡¯t know whether they won or lost, but Ricky pulled out a dying senior soldier buried in mud like a swamp and carried him on his back. He was the senior soldier who had beaten Ricky the most.

    With each step, his legs sank up to his thighs, and he walked all day grinding his teeth to get back to the camp.

    The injured senior soldier, carried on Ricky¡¯s back, even wet himself, and the stench pierced through the thick smell of blood.

    When Ricky finally managed to save him, he said,

    ¡°I won¡¯t say thank you.¡±

    After that, the senior soldier recovered and participated in several more battles. Then, in one battle, he threw himself to save Ricky and died instead, pierced by a spear.

    As he was dying, he said with a smiling face,

    ¡°Don¡¯t thank me. I can rest now. You keep working your ass off.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    That day, Ricky realized how trust is built. And that trust must be shown through actions, not words.

    Rough talk, all kinds of obscene jokes, and somewhat violent traditions. These were just the fever reducers for soldiers living on the battlefield, and they were not their true selves.

    That¡¯s why Ricardt tried to see the true intentions behind others¡¯ words rather than the words themselves.

    When he first entered the dormitory at Beringen Academy, even though the kids provoked him with harsh words, he didn¡¯t get angry or show any special reaction because of that context.

    Having lived with rough soldiers and fought against the wild hostility of barbarians, no matter how harshly the kids provoked him, it didn¡¯t stir much emotion in Ricardt.

    However, Ricardt suddenly realized, looking at the nket in his hand. It was an initiation ceremony. If it was that, he should have just taken the beating.

    ¡°Oh, was this an initiation? Sorry. Want to try again?¡±

    But unfortunately, it was already toote. Four kids were sprawled out, groaning in pain. Silence filled the room.

    Then, from somewhere on the upper bunk, someone spoke to Ricardt. He couldn¡¯t see who it was.

    ¡°Hey, can you fight?¡±

    ¡°Well, what do you think?¡±

    A chuckling sound was heard. Then, with a leap from the second floor of the bed, he revealed himself.

    He was a student with short golden hair who looked prematurely aged to the point where one might wonder if he was lying about his age. However, his clean skin made it possible to see him as his actual age. Though it was unclear how old he was.

    Above all, he was a head taller than Ricardt. And he was shirtless, showing well-defined muscles.

    ¡°Do you want to do it bare-handed or with swords?¡±

    ¡°Whatever¡¯sfortable for you.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Interesting. It¡¯s Pankration!¡±

    The opponent suddenly shouted. And not just shouted, but very loudly. Even the timid kids, and Ricardt, flinched in surprise. What¡¯s with him?

    But as if responding to his shout, other kids also shouted. When dozens of kids shouted energetically all at once, the whole dormitory seemed to shake.

    ¡°Pankration! Pankration! Pankration!¡±

    Is this some sort of chant? While Ricardt stood there bewildered, his opponent turned around and walked towards the opposite door. Thinking it probably meant they were going to fight, Ricardt followed him.

    Coming out through the opposite door, they arrived at the backyard of the dormitory, which looked like a kind of training ground.

    There were old and recent bloodstains scattered on the sandy floor, and on the edges were wooden parallel bars, pull-up bars, training dummies, and other equipment.

    In the training ground, there were kids practicing sparring, exercising, or engaging in flirting with girls. When the kids from the dormitory rushed out, everyone stopped what they were doing and watched.

    In a corner of the training ground was a circr sand pit, and the one who had brought Ricardt out walked barefoot into it.

    Naturally, the kids gathered around, and Ricardt took off his cloak and shoes and also stepped into the sand pit.

    The kids watching had varied expressions: some with their arms crossed looking indifferent, others excitedly gleaming with anticipation, and some feeling fear for the impending violence.

    Ricardt¡¯s opponent seemed to enjoy the attention, especially relishing the girls¡¯ gazes, as he confidently smiled and said,

    ¡°You either surrender or die. There¡¯s no other way to end the fight. Everything is allowed except biting and kicking the groin. That¡¯s pankration.¡±

    ¡°Is that so? So, are you prepared to die?¡±

    ¡°What? Hahaha, that¡¯s funny. Really funny. Hey, someone bandage him up.¡±

    Then, from the group of kids, Boribori quickly came out and wrapped Ricardt¡¯s hands in bandages.

    The bandages were meant to protect the fists, not to lessen the opponent¡¯s injuries.

    Ricardt¡¯s opponent had his girlfriend bandage him, while Boribori bandaged Ricardt. Boribori, seeing that Ricardt had no calluses on his hands, thought the match was already decided.

    ¡°If you get hit, just pretend it hurts and fall down. Volka probably won¡¯t kill you, but you could still get seriously hurt.¡±

    Boribori whispered. It seemed the opponent¡¯s name was Volka.

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t feel much determination from him.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­Huh?¡±

    Boribori was confused, not understanding what Ricardt meant.

    ¡°When are you going to finish bandaging? Or are two going to make out now?¡±

    ¡°Hahahahaha!¡±

    When Volka spoke, the surrounding kids burst outughing, and Volka¡¯s girlfriend, pretending to dislike it, secretly showed she enjoyed the attention.

    ¡°It¡¯s done. You can go.¡±

    Ricardt told Boribori. Boribori, feeling something was off, left the sand pit.

    Then, Volka lightly bounced on the spot as if he were preparing, and then walked around Ricardt like he was taking a leisurely stroll. While subtly closing the distance, he suddenly stepped forward with his front foot and threw a punch.

    Thunk!

    No, he tried to punch. Volka saw a sh before his eyes, his head jerked back, and his fist missed its mark, slicing through empty air. Then, his knee hit the ground with a thud.

    The surrounding area fell silent, like cold water had been poured on them.

    Volka, barely holding onto consciousness, staggered but tried to steady himself. But again, there was a sh of light before his eyes, and he cked outpletely.

    Ricardt hadnded a high kick to Volka¡¯s head. To the others, seeing him kick a taller opponent in the head looked almost picturesque.

    If silence could have weight, it would have felt like a heavy rock had been ced on them. It was so heavy that even breathing seemed difficult.

    The students who had been smiling gradually had their expressions harden, all with their mouths agape. Those who had been watching with indifferent arms crossed naturally unfolded their arms.

    About three or four seconds passed. Volka regained consciousness and initially looked confused. He then stiffly tried to get up, unaware of the blood flowing from his nose and mouth.

    ¡°I could have killed you more than twenty times. Are you going to surrender?¡±

    Ricardt, who was quietly watching Volka, spoke. Only then did Volka realize he had been knocked out.

    He also became aware of the shocked gazes of the other kids focused on him, and shame washed over him. Most humiliating of all, among those gazes was his girlfriend¡¯s.

    ¡°¡­¡­Fuck you¡­¡­!¡±

    Volka, trying to muster his fighting spirit, swung his fist wildly.

    No, once again, just before he could swing, his vision shed. With a thud, his fist awkwardly sliced through empty air. Volka fell to his knees.

    However, unlike before, he did not pass out. He desperately tried to hold on with sheer willpower and reached forward to grapple in wrestling, but his strength was failing, and he could only il weakly.

    As Ricardt¡¯s knee immediately struck Volka¡¯s chin, he cked out again.

    Crash!

    Thud.

    This time about five seconds passed before Volka, lying face down in the sand, opened his eyes. It wasn¡¯t that his body wouldn¡¯t respond; he simply had no strength left.

    He barely turned his head to look up and saw Ricardt gazing down at him.

    ¡°You said it yourself. It¡¯s not over unless you surrender or die.¡±

    Then Volka, bleeding from his broken nose and split lip, barely spoke while making wheezing sounds. His eyes were half-zed over.

    ¡°¡­¡­F, fu, ck you.¡±

    ¡°Is that so? Then I lost. That¡¯s enough, right?¡±

    Ricardt unwound the bandages on the spot, tossed them to the copsed Volka, and walked away.

    He received his cloak from one of the watching kids, picked up his shoes, and walked away without looking back.

    An even heavier silence than before descended on the scene. The children couldn¡¯t quitee to their senses, not knowing how to process this shocking event.

    Volkay face down in the sand for a while, unable to get up, his shoulders shaking as if he were crying.

    The bandages Ricardt had been wearing were messily draped over Volka¡¯s head. Even if it wasn¡¯t intentional, it seemed like a mockery of the loser.

    Ricardt, unsure where to put his things, stood around looking for a spot. Laters to the scene stopped in their tracks when they saw him.

    None approached him or asked him to move. The passageway was jammed with kids like a congested road.

    Then Ricardt noticed Boribori, the kid who had wrapped his hands in bandages.

    ¡°Hey, you. You know me, right? You wrapped my hands earlier.¡±

    ¡°¡­M-Me?¡±

    ¡°Yes, you. Where¡¯s your spot?¡±

    ¡°M-Me?¡±

    ¡°Are you imitating an animal that says ¡®me-me¡¯ or something?¡±

    ¡°M-Me?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    Ricardt tried to ask gently with a smile, but by now he wondered if the kid was mocking him, so his expression turned cold.

    The kids around Boribori pushed him forward, almost shoving him.

    Ricardt and Boribori stood facing each other, with Boribori¡¯s eyes darting around, unable to look Ricardt in the eye.

    ¡°If you have a condition, nod your head. I¡¯ll understand.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    Boribori just stood there silently.

    ¡°Then if you were trying to mock me, please stop. Can you do that?¡±

    ¡°Y-Yes. N-No. I wasn¡¯t trying to make fun of you¡­¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s your spot?¡±

    Boribori pointed with his hand. It was near the far end of the lower bunk.

    ¡°Is there an empty spot next to you?¡±

    Boribori turned around. The owner of that spot shook his head vigorously.

    ¡°There isn¡­¡­.¡± (TL Note: Boribori is trying to say ¡®There isn¡¯t¡¯ but due to his stuttering, he only manages to say ¡®There is¡¯.)

    ¡°Really? Then let¡¯s stay together. Is that okay? Are you hurt?¡±

    ¡°N, no. I¡¯m not hurt. It¡¯s okay.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m new here, so I don¡¯t know much. Help me out a bit.¡±?¡±

    ¡°Okay¡­.¡±

    Having chosen his spot, Ricardt went to his new ce and unpacked his things. He shoved aside the messy belongings that had been there.

    Normally, a newbie shouldn¡¯t act like that, but none of the kids said anything.

    Inside the dormitory, the atmosphere was uneasy, and no one spoke, making the ce feel as silent as if cold water had been poured over everyone. Ricardt thought it must usually be a quiet ce.

    Boribori sat silently right next to Ricardt, but to anyone watching, he seemed very conscious of Ricardt¡¯s presence.

    Ricardt asked,

    ¡°How are the sses conducted?¡±

    ¡°sses?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. They¡¯re going to teach us something, right?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ for about a year, we go to the city to earn money, and during that time, we train our bodies or make friends on our own. For the remaining year, we use the money we¡¯ve saved to pay a donation fee and attend sses.¡±

    ¡°I have some money. Would this be enough?¡±

    Ricardt untied his money pouch and poured its contents onto the bed. It was the money he had obtained by selling the precious metals he had taken from the Vilton brothers¡¯ heads and corpses. There were dozens of silver coins and even a few gold coins.

    Boribori¡¯s eyes widened. It was the first time in his life he had seen such arge sum of money.

    ¡°Uh¡­ I¡¯m not sure.¡±

    Although Boribori had arrived before Ricardt, he had only been there for a month and didn¡¯t know everything in detail.

    ¡°So, we¡¯re just supposed to sleep here, earn money on our own, pay a donation fee to attend sses, and after two years, we leave here to work in the guild for three years, and after that, we either be real adventurers or take the final exam. Is that how it works?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡­ I guess? Maybe? But they do give us bread in the morning and evening. There¡¯s a ce to get it. But it¡¯s so hard that it¡¯s difficult to eat, so to have proper meals and live well, you need money anyway¡­¡±

    Ricardt already had plenty of money. Of course, it wouldn¡¯t be enough to buy good weapons and equipmentter, but for now, it was more than enough for living expenses.

    ¡°I see. Thanks.¡±

    ¡°Huh? But, we¡¯re not supposed to say thank you here¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°Really? Ah, I get it. Sorry.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­We¡¯re not supposed to say sorry either¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°Haha, I see, it feels a bit like the military.¡±

    ¡°Military?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Realrades don¡¯t need to say thank you or sorry to each other. Because I know I¡¯d risk my life to save arade, and they¡¯d do the same for me.¡±

    Boribori cautiously looked at Ricardt. He seemed too young to have military experience. It might be a bluff, but seeing his fighting skills made it seem real¡­

    ¡°Ah, and hierarchy are important here. It decides who gets what spot, and when we pass each other in these narrow corridors, who steps aside first¡ªthose things are determined by hierarchy.¡±

    ¡°Hierarchy? Who decides that?¡±

    ¡°No one really decides it; everyone just knows.¡±

    Even though there wasn¡¯t an official ranking system, the kids knew who was the best fighter and the order of skill among them. These ranks were decided more concretely through actual challenges and fights.

    Ricardt stretched his neck out to take a casual look at the kids in the dormitory. No matter how he looked at them, they were just kids. They all seemed weak, the kind you¡¯d call ¡®pathetic¡¯, so he wondered what the point of establishing ranks was.

    ¡°So what¡¯s your rank in the hierarchy?¡±

    Ricardt asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have one. I¡¯m just a low ss.¡±

    ¡°Low-ss? That¡¯s harsh. So, is it better to have a high rank to livefortably here?¡±

    ¡°If you just give up on everything and live like a dead mouse, it¡¯s easier. Then after two years, you can leave and look for other work.¡±

    ¡°¡­..That sounds pretty sad. By the way, I forgot to ask your name. I¡¯m Ricky. You?¡±

    As they talked, Boribori began to feel less afraid of Ricardt. At first, Ricardt had seemed like some sort of ghost, but now he seemed more human.

    ¡°I¡¯m Boribori.¡±

    But as soon as he said his name, there was a moment of silence. Ricardt¡¯s face, which had been smiling as he spoke, once again turned cold.

    ¡°You are mocking me, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°N-no! I-it¡¯s true! My name really is Boribori!¡±

    Ricardt red at Boribori for a moment, not dropping his suspicious gaze. But then, the door on the opposite side opened and someone came in. It was Volka.

    His nose and mouth area was covered in blood. He staggered in and slumped down on a lower bunk bed that wasn¡¯t his original spot.

    ¡°What¡¯s his rank?¡±

    Ricardt asked. Boribori, calming his startled heart, answered.

    ¡°¡­He¡¯s our leader¡­¡±

 Chapter 15

    Chapter 15

    Trantor: Willia

    The two boys didn¡¯t seem to be exercising or training for anything.

    One was simply hanging from a pull-up bar or climbing onto the parallel bars, holding on for a bit, then lifting his legs and sitting down.

    The other was holding onto the legs of the parallel bars, swaying his body, and looking up at the boy sitting above, talking about something.

    Judging by the smiles on the boys¡¯ faces, it seemed like they were having the kind of childish conversations typical for their age.

    10 years old, or maybe 12. Useless and iprehensible to adults, but the most fun, important, and serious conversations in the world for children.

    Have you ever seen a turtle? They say it¡¯s really fast in the water. So, if a rabbit runs onnd and a turtle swims in the water, which one would be faster? Have you ever seen the sea? They say it¡¯s all water to the end of the world. But the strange thing is, it tastes salty, like it¡¯s full of salt. A lot of salt must have gone in, right?

    Though their conversation couldn¡¯t be heard from a distance, it seemed like they might be talking about such things.

    The wind asionally blew towards Ricardt, who was sitting on the parallel bars, causing his golden hair to shimmer in the sunlight.

    It had been a week since Ricardt had moved into the Beringen Academy dormitory, and in that time, he seemed to have gotten a bit closer to Boribori, whoughed and shook his head, engagingfortably in conversation.

    Someone was watching the two boys from a distance. It was Volka.

    Volka still couldn¡¯t understand how Ricardt, who looked like just a kid no matter how he looked at him, had defeated him, as if by some magic.

    For three days, he couldn¡¯t shake off the shock and shame, and on the fourth day, he started to think carefully. Why did he lose?

    Setting aside his frustration and resentment, he was purely curious. Why did he lose? No matter how he looked, Ricardt was just a kid.

    Even when he reyed the situation in his mind, he couldn¡¯t figure it out. He only remembered a sh before passing out.

    Volka, after agonizing alone, seemingly unable to bear it any longer, strode towards Ricardt.

    Boribori, seeing Volka approach, was startled and couldn¡¯t fully hide behind the parallel bars¡¯ legs, peeking out with a frightened frog-like expression.

    Ricardt, who wasughingfortably and talking with Boribori, changed to an indifferent expression when he saw Volka.

    ¡°Hey.¡±

    Volka called first.

    ¡°What.¡±

    ¡°Fight me.¡±

    ¡°I told you, I lost.¡±

    ¡°Are you mocking me?¡±

    ¡°Then what do you want? You said it doesn¡¯t end unless someone dies or surrenders. But you won¡¯t surrender.¡±

    ¡°Ha¡­ Fine. I lost. Happy? So let¡¯s fight.¡±

    ¡°Sigh¡­¡±

    Ricardt sighed and then jumped down from the parallel bars.

    ¡°Boribori, bring me the bandages.¡±

    ¡°Y-yeah.¡±

    Boribori quickly ran to the dormitory and brought back bandages. Volka, who had lost to Ricardt and been dumped by his girlfriend, wrapped the bandages on his hands himself.

    As it looked like they were going to fight, the eyes of the kids in the training ground turned towards them. It seemed like some kind of revenge match, but judging by the atmosphere, neither Ricardt nor Volka seemed particrly emotional.

    So, unlike the first day, the kids didn¡¯t rush over to hype up the atmosphere. They just watched from afar.

    This time, they didn¡¯t bother taking off their shoes and enter the sandpit. They just faced each other at the edge of the training ground.

    Unlike the first day, Volka was on high alert. He seemed ready to face Ricardt properly without letting his guard down.

    He kept his guard up, lowering his stance, chin tucked, and stared intently at Ricardt. Meanwhile, Ricardt was just standing naturally, slightly sideways.

    Volka moved his shoulders rhythmically, circling around Ricardt slightly, then suddenly stepped forward, throwing a punch.

    No, he couldn¡¯t throw it this time either. Because before that, Ricardt¡¯s fist had already struck his sr plexus.

    Thud!

    ¡°Gah!¡±

    For a moment, Volka¡¯s breath was knocked out and he felt dizzy. However, since Ricardt hadn¡¯t hit his chin like the first day, he didn¡¯t pass out in one blow. Ricardt had intentionally held back.

    As Volka struggled to regain his posture and took a forced breath, trying to collect his thoughts, Ricardt continued to stand there, just watching. Then he spoke.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you try using your back foot? It¡¯s too obvious.¡±

    ¡°Wh-what?¡±

    ¡°Look. You do it like this.¡±

    Ricardt imitated Volka¡¯s movement, throwing a punch into the air. It wasn¡¯t just an imitation; it was a perfect replication.

    ¡°You step forward with your front foot while throwing a punch. It¡¯s good for striking quickly in an instant, but it¡¯s too predictable. The moment you step with your front foot, I just need to extend my hand and you¡¯re running into it. So I can take you down without much effort.¡±

    Volka listened to Ricardt¡¯s words as if in a trance, feeling both bewildered and dumbfounded.

    ¡°But look. Using your back foot means this. First, you pull back your rear foot, then step forward with your front foot. This allows you to close arge distance in one move, making it difficult for the opponent to react. It¡¯s about deceiving the sense of distance.¡±

    Using the back foot seemed like a somewhat strange posture, but when Ricardt demonstrated it naturally in a continuous motion, it looked really cool.

    ¡°So you need to start with the distance game. Not just thinking about throwing punches. People who know how to fight all have this as a basic instinct. The distance where you¡¯re confident, the distance where you¡¯re not, movements to close the distance, movements to widen it, whether to dive in and fight or fight while maintaining distance. But you don¡¯t know any of this. It¡¯s so hard for me to get hit even if I wanted to.¡±

    Volka stood there with a bewildered expression. So did Boribori nearby and the other kids watching.

    ¡°Alright, try again. For now, don¡¯t think about throwing punches,e in with the mindset of closing the distance.¡±

    Volka hadn¡¯t expected to receive instruction, so he remained dazed. Even so, he assumed his stance again, forcing himself to focus.

    Then, as Ricardt had said, rather than immediately swinging his fists, he focused on his footwork.

    He feinted a few times against the stationary Ricardt, but Ricardt just stared into his eyes, not falling for any of them.

    Then Volka used his back foot as Ricardt had taught him, quickly closing the distance. Just as he thought this was his moment, his left leg twisted to the side.

    Thud!

    ¡°Argh!¡±

    Volka shut his eyes tight. How could such a small body generate such destructive power? The kick felt like being hit with a club.

    As he hurriedly tried to widen the distance again, his legs wouldn¡¯t move as he wanted.

    Thunk.

    Ricardt¡¯s fist lightly touched Volka¡¯s chin. He had lost. It was an overwhelming difference in skill. Volka felt it not in his head, but in his skin.

    ¡°This is why it¡¯s deadly when your legs are injured. Want to go one more time?¡±

    ¡°¡­One more time.¡±

    Ricardt distanced himself again. This time, Volka was limping on his left leg.

    From this point on, it wasn¡¯t really a spar or a match; it was essentially a one-sided beating. Volka took hits to his right leg as well, struggling to stay upright, and his focus naturally shifted to the pain in his legs.

    Unable to decide where to block, he iled his arms up and down, failing to block a single strike properly, getting hit all over his upper and lower body.

    Naturally, this caused him to curl up his body, and eventually, hey on the ground, curled up like a bug.

    Ricardt looked down at Volka nkly for a while, then unwrapped the bandages from his fists. He then reached out his hand to help Volka up, and tried to support him by putting an arm around his shoulder.

    ¡°I¡¯ll help you up.¡±

    Boribori, who had been hiding, quickly came over to help support Volka from the other side, but Volka, in pain, pushed them away as best he could.

    ¡°I-I can walk on my own.¡±

    Then he tried to stand on his own, but it really looked difficult.

    Volka took a deep breath several times, seemingly trying to endure the pain while standing, then took one step at a time with great effort. Still, he stubbornly walked on his own.

    Ricardt felt something pulling at his heart as he watched Volka¡¯s back.

    Last time, Volka had refused to surrender until the end, burning with determination. Now, seeing him stand up and walk on his own despite everything made Ricardt feel drawn to him.

    On the other hand, he also felt sorry for him. Not because of anything else, but because he felt Volka was continually isting himself.

    Ricardt followed behind Volka, and Boribori, caught off guard, followed as well.

    ¡°Can Ie visit your bedter?¡±

    Ricardt asked, matching his pace with Volka who was walking slowly.

    Volka found it so absurd that he almostughed, which made his whole body hurt even more. He grimaced and barely managed to reply.

    ¡°I¡¯m not interested in races between rabbits and turtles.¡±

    ¡°¡­?¡±

    ¡°You cane, but it won¡¯t be fun.¡±

    After entering the dormitory, Volka walked while leaning against the wall. The kids in the corridor made way for Volka as they saw him heading to his bed.

    But then, about five or six unfamiliar boys opened the door on the opposite side and walked in.

    Seeing them, Volka stepped aside. Ricardt and Boribori, following Volka¡¯s lead, naturally stuck to the wall as well. Huh? Wasn¡¯t Volka the leader here?

    As the unfamiliar boys passed by Ricardt, the eyes of the boy at the front and Ricardt¡¯s eyes met briefly.

    He had hair as if it was coated in silver and looked like a descendant of elves, an extraordinarily handsome boy.

    However, his basic expression was cold, as if he had no interest in anything in the world. For this reason, he quickly averted his gaze from Ricardt.

    The boys went to the innermost, top bunk beds. After staying for a while, they left through the back door.

    ¡°Volka, weren¡¯t you the leader?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m asking if you weren¡¯t the number one in the hierarchy here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not number one. But I am the leader, though. Ugh.¡±

    Volka groaned as he climbed onto his bed. Ricardt followed him up and sat on the bed, watching as Volkay down.

    His gaze already carried a question, so Volka answered it on his own.

    ¡°They¡¯re the Ice Faction, and the ones who just came in are ranked first to fifth here. I¡¯m around twentieth. However, I introduce jobs to the kids and mobilize them when there¡¯s a fight in the city, things like that. But those guys aren¡¯t interested in any of this at all. I¡¯ve never even seen them talk to anyone but themselves.¡±

    In other words, while Volka was the practical leader, there were others more skilled in fighting or swordsmanship than him.

    ¡°If they don¡¯t care, why are they here?¡±

    ¡°Well, they¡¯re probably aiming for the top rank. Maybe even to be the Emperor¡¯s Champion. Isn¡¯t that your goal too?¡±

    Bing the Emperor¡¯s Champion was like a dreame true. Because it meant bing a noble by one¡¯s own merit, and for a bastard child, it meant surpassing the prestige of their birth family.

    They would no longer be oppressed; in fact, most nobles would bow before the Champion. Being the Emperor¡¯s problem solver meant having the privilege to kill even nobles.

    However, Ricardt had no interest in that. If anything, he had resentment towards the royal family that had started the war a hundred years ago.

    ¡°Not me. I¡¯m interested in that Mana Drive thing, and the Codex. That¡¯s why I want to take the ancientnguage ss.¡±

    During his week here, Ricardt noticed that swordsmanship and hand-to-handbat seemed to be taught just at a basic level.

    If someone had no knowledge ofbat techniques at all, taking those sses would make a big difference, but that didn¡¯t apply to Ricardt.

    So he wanted to take the ancientnguage ss, but there was no lecturer for it. He had to wait until the academy appointed a professor for that ss.

    The academy didn¡¯t have anyone permanently stationed here to teach the kids. People sent by the guild would teach for a few months or a year or two and then leave, getting reced by others.

    ¡°¡­You¡¯ve got some weirdo tendencies.¡±

    Volka said incredulously.

    He could understand being interested in the Mana Drive, but paying to take such a difficult and boring ss was beyond hisprehension.

    In fact, there were quite a few kids at the guild academy who couldn¡¯t even read. If they couldn¡¯t learn the existingnguages, how could they learn ancient characters? To Volka, it seemed like something only a crazy person would do.

    ¡°Hahaha, that¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve been called a weirdo.¡±

    After always being called an extraordinary genius, being called a weirdo actually pleased Ricardt. Because it meant they were seeing him for who he really was.

    ¡°Then could you show me around the cityter?¡±

    ¡°¡­Sure. But I have to attend sses this week. Let¡¯s go after that.¡±

    ¡°Is it okay if Boribories along too?¡±

    ¡°Bori, what?¡±

    ¡°The kid who was with me. His real name is Boribori.¡±

    ¡°¡­Alright, let¡¯s do that.¡±

    Ricardt grinned and was about to jump down from the top bunk when Volka called out.

    ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    Volka looked like he had something to say but hesitated. Then, unable to meet Ricardt¡¯s eyes, he looked elsewhere and struggled to speak.

    ¡°¡­Thanks.¡±

    ¡°For what? For beating you up? Don¡¯t tell me¡­¡±

    ¡°No. For teaching me.¡±

    This ce was ultimately aboutpetition. So the higher up in the hierarchy you went, the more people tried to hide their know-how and techniques from each other. The concept of teaching someone simply didn¡¯t exist.

    Although Volka had been beaten by Ricardt, he had learned something valuable and hade to some realizations.

    At some point, he had felt a gap in talent and couldn¡¯t rise above 20th ce no matter how hard he tried. But after hearing Ricardt¡¯s exnation, it felt like some of the blocks had started to clear.

    That was something he was genuinely grateful for.

    Ricardt smiled gently and said,

    ¡°No need to say thanks.¡±

    Then he hopped down to the floor below.

    Volka looked at the space where Ricardt had disappeared, overwhelmed by an indescribable feeling.

    He was a peculiar kid. This ce was one where it was natural to look down on and bully those weaker than oneself. It was strictly hierarchical.

    However, Ricardt didn¡¯t boast about his strength or swagger about defeating Volka. In truth, he didn¡¯t fit into this cruel and bleak ce.

    He taught without expecting anything in return, simply chatting and asking if he could do this or that with him. Volka didn¡¯t know how to respond.

    He had rarely experienced such pure kindness and warm, gentle words.

    Growing up with his father¡¯s violence, his half-siblings¡¯ ostracism, and his mother¡¯s indifference, Volka had never understood that these things were emotional scars. So feeling grateful was very unfamiliar and embarrassing to him.

    Don¡¯t say you¡¯re sorry, don¡¯t say thank you. He didn¡¯t know when this tradition hade down to this ce, but Volka had interpreted it as meaning that the strong could oppress the weak. It seemed the other kids thought so too.

    If I¡¯m stronger than the other person, I don¡¯t need to thank them for anything I receive through exploitation. And if I hit or insult the other person, I don¡¯t need to apologize. Why? Because I¡¯m stronger.

    But with Ricardt, it seemed to mean something different. Then what does it mean?

    Volka wasn¡¯t sure, but even as his whole body ached and hurt, he could clearly feel a warmth in his chest.

    Chapter 4 ¨C Don¡¯t Say Thanks. The End.

 Chapter 16

    Chapter 16

    Trantor: Willia

    What¡¯s so good about hitting people and hurting them? Or, on the flip side, what¡¯s so good about getting your nose broken and your lips busted? Well, there are people who enjoy hitting others, but I¡¯m a bit different.

    I¡¯ve got something pent up. Here. In my chest. When I release it, I feel a bit of relief, and every time I sense that my skills are improving, it feels like something empty inside me is being filled. Yeah, fulfillment. Don¡¯t you feel the same?

    You might not understand, but fighting with someone, exchanging blows, feels simr to having a deep conversation.

    Even without words, you can tell things like, ¡°Ah, this bastard is a piece of trash,¡± or ¡°Oh, this guy¡¯s decent.¡±

    But you know, fighting means there¡¯s someone to fight against, and there¡¯s no guarantee that I¡¯ll always win. When I lose, it¡¯s frustrating and infuriating, but I¡¯ve trained hard, thinking I¡¯ll win next time.

    But no matter how much I tried, there were some people I just couldn¡¯t beat. Were they born with it? What were they born with? No matter how hard I tried, how could they do it so easily?

    They say that when you can feel something called mana and start using it, apletely different world unfolds. But, to me, I feel nothing from those guys. It¡¯s just a wall. A wall that gives no answer.

    So, you know, I¡¯m thinking of quitting the training.

    Volka strangely recalled something he had said in the past. He couldn¡¯t remember to whom he had said it. Was it his ex-girlfriend?

    When Volka opened his eyes in the morning, he fell into a deep thought before getting up. And for some reason, he felt a tickling sensation in his chest.

    Naturally, the things Ricardt had taught him came to mind. As he recalled each one, all his focus was drawn to them.

    He was reminded to pay attention to distance before throwing a punch, to first secure a distance he felt confident in, that kicks were just as important as punches, and so on.

    These were really just the basics, but at the Academy, what you learned was mostly about form and the professor¡¯s personal know-how. Beyond that, you had to improve by actually fighting on your own.

    But being busy with work, dealing with various incidents, and having to handle them as the leader made it hard to fully concentrate.

    Moreover, since each student¡¯s physical development was different, finding a good sparring partner was even more difficult.

    Volka reflected on the fights he had lost before Ricardt came along. Now that he looked back, it seemed much clearer why he had lost. His past self seemed really stupid.

    After a good night¡¯s sleep, Volka, though not fully recovered, devoted himself to training alone.

    He kept thinking about ¡°distance¡± in his head and tried to internalize the movements associated with it.

    And although he couldn¡¯t see itpletely, Ricardt¡¯s beautiful and precise strikes became a target for him to aim for.

    Ricardt watched Volka practice while hanging from the pull-up bar, asionally correcting his posture or sharing various tips.

    Two days passed, and it was the day of the bare-handedbat ss. About 50 students were attending the ss, with a male-to-female ratio of about 3:1. Among them was Volka¡¯s ex-girlfriend.

    As usual, the less skilled group was separated and taught by the professor, while the rest gathered in groups to spar and refine their techniques.

    Some of them were just goofing around with their friends.

    But Volka was alone, hitting a dummy, as if he were being left out. Maybe it was because of the incident with Ricardt, but the way the other students looked at Volka was strange.

    ¡°Hey, Volka.¡±

    Someone called out. Volka turned around to see a student higher in rank than him, who spent more time in the city than at the dormitory.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I heard you got beat up by a newbie.¡±

    ¡°So what.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be the leader, right? How are you going to take care of the others like that?¡±

    ¡°Since when did you care about the others?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care. I¡¯m only interested in improving my own skills. Unlike you, I¡¯m not talentless.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you just ying leader to these kids because you have no talent? But now that even that¡¯s over, what are you going to do? Shine shoes or something?¡±

    The mention of ¡°shining shoes¡± was met with mockingughter from here and there.

    It was indeed a cruel ce, this Adventurer Training Academy. People took pleasure in seeing someone fall, and they didn¡¯t hesitate to mock them. Moreover, they considered it only natural to bully those weaker than themselves.

    But then, the professor, who had been watching the students fooling around, spoke up.

    ¡°You little brats, I told you to practice, but I see some of you are already ying around. I¡¯ve told you that even if I don¡¯t care about you, ying during ss is disrespecting me.¡±

    The students tensed up at the professor¡¯s words. They knew that this could lead to a torture-like training disguised as physical training.

    However, the professor smirked and said,

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s true that things can get boring. So let¡¯s shake things up a bit. Pankration it is then.¡±

    Upon hearing that, the students¡¯ eyes widened, and they chanted together in unison.

    ¡°Pankration! Pankration!¡±

    The professor, hearing their chant, briefly reminisced about his own days at the academy. Then he said,

    ¡°Those who feel confident, step forward.¡±

    The student who had been mocking Volka raised his hand and asked,

    ¡°Can I choose someone?¡±

    ¡°As long as the chosen one doesn¡¯t refuse,¡± the professor replied.

    The student then turned to Volka and said,

    ¡°Are you going to refuse?¡±

    Volka fell into thought for a moment. To others, it looked like he was debating whether to swallow his pride or go ahead and fight.

    But that wasn¡¯t the case. Volka wasn¡¯t calcting his chances of winning; he was mentally reviewing everything he had practiced over the past few days.

    Once his thoughts were in order, he raised his head and said,

    ¡°No. You,e on out.¡±

    He then walked over to the sandpit, and exmations of ¡°Ooooh¡± arose from all around. Volka paid no attention to the others and kept repeating to himself. Measure the distance. Measure the distance. Measure the distance¡­

    Fight at the distance I want, avoid the distance I don¡¯t. When I get within my desired distance, the punches wille naturally. So, measure the distance.

    Although two days of practice might not seem like much, sometimes small changes can lead to big results.

    Volka felt his heart pounding. It wasn¡¯t fear of defeat, nor was it the desire for victory. It was simply the anticipation that something within him had changed.

    ¡°Let¡¯s not resort to ugly wrestling. The spectators should enjoy it too, right?¡±

    The student who stood across from Volka in the sandpit said. He was around the same age as Volka, technically an adult by age.

    They had entered the academy around the same time and had even hung out together for a short while.

    How did their rtionship end up like this? Was it an inferiorityplex about talent, or was there some unspoken resentment? It was hard to say.

    ¡°Are both of you ready?¡± the professor asked.

    Volka nodded, while his opponent rotated his arm, grabbing the opposite shoulder.

    ¡°Good. Everything is allowed except for biting and kicking the groin. The match ends if someone dies or surrenders. Pankration, start!¡±

    At the shout of ¡°start,¡± Volka took his stance. It was slightly different from before¡ªhe, a right-hander, ced his left hand forward, pulled his right hand back, and slightly advanced his left foot.

    Most importantly, he kept his upper body upright and moved lightly on his feet. He extended his left hand forward, as if measuring the distance and at the same time keeping his opponent in check.

    At a certain moment, his opponent ducked his upper body and rushed in first. Volka threw out his left hand with force, quickly retracted it, and then struck with his right fist. Huh? Wait a second.

    Volka extended his arm and slightly tilted his head back, increasing the distance. But aside from everything else, his opponent¡¯s attack looked incredibly slow. Is he testing me?

    ¡°Haha, have you be a coward, Volka? Let¡¯s heat things up a bit.¡±

    The opponent said, jumping lightly in ce as if loosening up. Then, once again, he got into position and charged in boldly.

    This time too, Volka could see his opponent¡¯s attack clearly. If he just extended his hand, the guy would walk right into it. Is this really okay?

    After facing Ricardt¡¯s lightning-fast attacks that came from blind spots, his opponent¡¯s strikes seemed like child¡¯s y. Before any teaching, the difference in level between the opponent in front of him and Ricardt was stark.

    The opponent continued to press forward, eventually driving Volka to the edge of the sandpit. With each rough step they took, sand flew into the air, and the spectators watching became increasingly engrossed in the fight.

    They all expected that someone¡¯s nose would break or their lips would split. Blood would drip onto the sandpit, and they all assumed it would be Volka¡¯s.

    But then, in an instant, as the opponent swung his fist with full force, his head suddenly snapped back, and he copsed onto the ground with a thud. Volka had dodged to the side and struck his opponent in the face.

    Thwack!

    The hit didn¡¯tnd perfectly on the chin but connected with the cheekbone, causing the opponent to support himself with his hand just outside the sandpit. Had the punchnded squarely on the chin, he would¡¯ve face-nted into the ground instead of catching himself with his hand.

    Even so, the blow made his vision spin, and he couldn¡¯t gather his senses for a moment. With a shocked expression, he clumsily staggered to his feet.

    Everyone¡¯s eyes widened at the unexpected oue. The students who held no particr ill will toward either Volka or his opponent found this surprising turn of events fascinating.

    After taking a hit, it seemed like his confidencepletely vanished; Volka¡¯s opponent wore a bewildered expression and hesitated, stepping back.

    But soon, realizing that over fifty people were watching, he felt a mix of shame and the unwillingness to admit defeat, driving him tounch a reckless attack.

    Volka widened the distance again, then, using the back foot technique Ricardt had taught him, he suddenly closed the gap and threw a punch.

    Thwack!

    It must havended properly because not only did the opponent¡¯s lip split, but broken teeth scattered onto the sand pit. And he just face-nted on the ground. He was knocked out cold.

    ¡°Oh? What¡¯s this? You¡¯ve got some skills, huh?¡±

    The professormented nonchntly, ignoring the fact that a student had just been knocked unconscious. After all, he was merely a high-ranking adventurer affiliated with the guild, not exactly someone with the temperament of a true professor.

    ¡°Two strikes, clean and precise. With this level of striking technique, you could use it in realbat. Now, you have to decide, right? This is Pankration.¡±

    The reason bare-handedbat was crucial because, in real-life scenarios, weapons often broke or slipped from one¡¯s grasp quickly. That¡¯s why wrestling techniques were especially important, but striking techniques were just as vital.

    Moreover, these skills were useful for self-defense, and most importantly, being able to fight well even without a weapon boosted one¡¯s confidence. It meant you had a final means of defense in any situation.

    In any case, the match wasn¡¯t over until someone died or surrendered. Simply knocking someone out didn¡¯t end the fight.

    Volka¡¯s opponent eventually soon consciousness, but seemed unable to control his body properly as he writhed on the ground. Volka firmly ced his foot on the opponent¡¯s chest, looked down at him, and asked,

    ¡°What are you going to do?¡±

    ¡°¡­I-I surrender.¡±

    p, p, p, p, p.

    Apuse erupted from all around.

    ¡°Wow, he¡¯s quite good, isn¡¯t he?¡±

    ¡°Volka¡¯s not bad, huh? You might lose to him too.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous.¡±

    ¡°But then, what about that new guy?¡±

    Students who had been staying in the city and only heard rumors each threw in ament. Volka¡¯s overwhelming victory naturally shifted their attention to Ricardt.

    Having just witnessed Volka¡¯s considerable skill firsthand, they couldn¡¯t help but be curious about Ricardt, who had apparently knocked Volka down on the very first day.

    On the other hand, those who were friends with the student who had been Volka¡¯s opponent were still in shock.

    It would be understandable if there were only a one or two-rank difference in their standing, but Volka was ranked 20th, and their friend was ranked 15th. That was a difference of five ranks.

    It was absurd, unbelievable, and difficult to ept. Given that the match ended in just two blows, they couldn¡¯t even chalk it up to luck.

    Meanwhile, Volka himself was a bit bewildered. He couldn¡¯t quite determine whether he had gotten stronger or if his opponent had gotten weaker.

    But he certainly felt good. The sense of improvement that he had lost somewhere along the way seemed to reignite like a me. His heart pounded with excitement.

    As he was leaving the courtyard after ss, children who had been keeping their distance, knowingly or unknowingly, approached him acting friendly. Even his ex-girlfriend, who had dumped him, came over.

    ¡°Looks like you¡¯ve started training again?¡±

    At her tone, deliberately trying to sound casual, Volka couldn¡¯t help but smile. It was because, at that moment, he was so preupied with something else that his ex-girlfriend feltpletely insignificant to him. He felt not even a shred of lingering attachment.

    So, without getting angry or resentful, he simply said,

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t bother to me. I¡¯m busy.¡±

    Her face turned bright red, but Volka left her standing there and headed to the dormitory. After that, he took Ricardt and Boribori and went to the city.

    Meanwhile, the higher-ranking students who hade to the Academy dorms for sses kept a close eye on the boy in the red cloak from a distance.

 Chapter 17

    Chapter 17

    Trantor: Willia

    The blue sky, white clouds, a cool breeze, and warm sunlight. It was one of those days where just that alone could make you feel good.

    Ricardt packed his money and dagger, draped his red cloak over his shoulders, and followed Volka out of the dormitory.

    Volka seemed to be in a good mood, though it wasn¡¯t clear why. When Boribori smiled brightly, it was like looking at the spring sunlight, and Ricardt couldn¡¯t help but feel uplifted as well.

    However,ing down, Ricardt realized something he hadn¡¯t noticed on the way up¡ªthe steep, sheer rock mountain was a bit frightening to descend.

    There were no safety railings, and the narrow steps were uneven in height, making it easy to misstep.

    Being at such a high ce, the wind blew strongly, causing Ricardt¡¯s cloak to flutter continuously along with his hair.

    ¡°This looks like an ident waiting to happen,¡±

    Ricardt said.

    ¡°There are even people who jump off on purpose.¡±

    Volka, who was leading the way, said as if it were nothing. He meant those who chose to end their lives.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Heaven¡¯s Cliff. It used to happen often. Kids would jump off on purpose.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­What about recently?¡±

    ¡°Haven¡¯t seen it recently. Maybe about three months?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    Ricardt was at a loss for words. It hurt his heart. He wanted to mourn the kids who had perished, but he didn¡¯t know their faces or names.

    But Volka asked the question so indifferently, as if it wasn¡¯t anything special that kids jumped off the cliff.

    ¡°It takes six hours to get there. What do you want to do? Stay in the city overnight, ore back after a short visit? If you¡¯re nning to return today, I can¡¯t go with you. I¡¯ve got my own business to attend to.¡±

    It meant it would take twelve hours round trip. Since it was still morning, if they were to return to the Academy dormitory on the same day, they wouldn¡¯t be able to stay long in the city.

    Ricardt pondered what to do, then remembered something his oldest brother, Graut, had once said when he was young.

    There¡¯s no point in making ns on a day like this.

    Ricardt looked up at the blue sky, where white clouds drifted. He let the brief heaviness in his heart be carried away by the wind and said,

    ¡°Let¡¯s think about it when we get there.¡±

    ¡°Alright. You said you have some money, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°In the city, money is king and emperor. If you¡¯ve got money, there¡¯s nothing to worry about.¡±

    ¡°But it can also be the seed of misfortune.¡±

    ¡°Haha, that¡¯s true, but who¡¯d dare mess with you?¡±

    Volka wasn¡¯t worried about Ricardt¡¯s safety, knowing his skills. If he were just another random kid, there wouldn¡¯t have been any reason to go to the city together like this. Unless he was introducing him to some work.

    By the way, descending the rocky mountain and looking out at the endlessly stretching fields was truly a magnificent sight.

    The timing was perfect, with spring flowers blooming in vibrant colors, decorating the green fields. Spring had gently settled on the fields, and the steps down felt like a staircase leading to heaven.

    Knowing that kids had often ended their lives here in the past made it hard to see the ce as purely beautiful. Or was it even more beautiful because of that? No, it was something that should be beautiful.

    Finally, when they reached the bottom, a long path leading to the cityy before them. It wasn¡¯t paved, formed solely by the footsteps of people, which seemed to evoke even more emotion.

    Boribori ran ahead, excitedly pointing to the surroundings and shouting out.

    ¡°Baby¡¯s breath! Daffodils! Lily of the valley! Star bellflower!¡±

    Boribori kept calling out the names of the grasses and flowers in the fields, endlessly shouting.

    As Ricardt listened, he realized those things he¡¯d seen back in his hometown all had their own names.

    ¡°Do you really memorize that kind of stuff?¡±

    But perhaps tired of listening, Volka frowned and said.

    ¡°But they¡¯re so pretty, it¡¯d be sad not to appreciate them.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah? Is this pretty too? Take that!¡±

    Volka stepped on a yellow daffodil. Boribori flinched and shut his mouth, while Ricardt just smiled.

    Even so, Ricardt approached the downcast Boribori, ced a hand on his shoulder, and spoke to him.

    ¡°It¡¯ll grow back. Just because a flower wilts doesn¡¯t mean its life is over.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about Ricky, but you need to get your act together. Do you think you can just coast by because you got lucky making a good friend? What are you going to do after two years?¡±

    Volka harshly criticized Boribori. Though he didn¡¯t need to go that far, the fact that he did might have meant he was starting to care a bit.

    ¡°Still, since we have to walk for 6 hours, listening to flower names isn¡¯t too bad.¡±

    Ricardt tried to defend Boribori. To be honest, he didn¡¯t quite understand why anyone would memorize such things either.

    Volka snorted as if displeased.

    Among the three, Boribori was the one who most retained his childlike innocence, despite being two years older than Ricardt.

    ¡°What¡¯s that flower called?¡±

    Ricardt asked, trying to lift Boribori¡¯s spirits.

    ¡°Violet.¡±

    ¡°And that tiny one?¡±

    ¡°Cucumber-herb.¡±

    ¡°Wow, you really know everything. They say flowers have meanings too. Can you tell me about them?¡±

    At the mention of flower meanings, Boribori¡¯s eyes began to brighten.

    ¡°They say violets are called that because they bloom around the time swallows return after being away for winter. The flower meaning is eternal friendship.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    Ricardt picked three purple violets. He handed one to Boribori and said,

    ¡°Does this mean we¡¯re friends forever now?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­Hehehe.¡±

    Boribori giggled as he took the flower and tucked it behind his ear.

    ¡°Here¡¯s one for you too, Volka.¡±

    ¡°Are you doing this on purpose?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°To mess with me.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about? Didn¡¯t you hear? The flower meaning is eternal friendship.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the kind of stuff girls do.¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re not going to take it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe in this kind of thing.¡±

    Despite his words, Volka snatched one up. Ricardtughed. With Boribori¡¯s spirits lifted again, he began telling stories rted to the flowers.

    Tales of a naive maiden¡¯s heartbreak, a brave knight bleeding on the spot where a flower then bloomed, an angel descending to deliver a flower, and so on.

    Whether true or not, whether they believed them or not, the stories made the journey to the city less tedious.

    The wind blew. The sound of the flowers and grasses swaying in the breeze was like the sound of waves.

    Swoooosh¡­

    Beringen had no clear boundaries for its city. Not at the foot of the hill, at least. At some point, the fields gave way to farnd, and they could see cows grazing.

    In the distance, a castle perched atop a hill came into view. As they got closer to the castle, the poption density increased.

    Volka pointed around with his hand as he spoke.

    ¡°This is the eastern district. It¡¯s a bit better here because there are a lot of people from the Guild and the Academy, but you¡¯d do well to avoid the northern and western districts. The northern district is where the Nord immigrants live. They have their own customs. If you speak carelessly there, you might find your head split by an axe, so keep that in mind. The western district is home to the old residents who¡¯ve lived here for generations. They don¡¯t like us much.¡±

    ¡°What about the southern district?¡±

    Ricardt asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s a mixed bag. There are people from deeper within the Empire. Some of them are bad news. So, it¡¯s safest to just stick to the eastern district. Now, let¡¯s head to the headquarters.¡±

    Ricardt and Boribori followed Volka. It was afternoon, with only a few hours left before sunset.

    The headquarters was arge, uniquely designed building. The second floor was bigger than the first, and there was a skybridge connecting it to another building.

    There was a separate parking area for carriages, with five of them parked there. The horses that had worked hard to get there were now relieved of their heavy harnesses removed, eating fodder and drinking water in the stables.

    Having visited what was essentially a branch office before, Ricardt thought, ¡®So the headquarters actually has its own separate building.¡¯

    ¡°The real headquarters is inside the castle. Strictly speaking, this isn¡¯t actually the headquarters, but people just call it that.¡±

    In other words, this was the space where most of the actual practical work was handled. The real headquarters inside the castle housed the so-called high-ranking officials, who only passed down orders.

    ¡°You guys probably can¡¯t get in there yet, but I know someone, so it might be possible. And once you¡¯re inside, don¡¯t just bber. The atmosphere is often shitty, so be careful.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Why do you think? Because people die, that¡¯s why.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡±

    The real journey started after spending two years at the Academy. That was when most deaths urred. Even then, the students were divided into upper, middle, and lower ranks.

    Out of the 200 students, barely 50 attempted to be adventurers. That was how difficult and dangerous it was. Some ran away, while most just looked for other jobs.

    Volka entered the building, and Ricardt and Boribori stood together, observing their surroundings.

    People with weapons strapped to their waists walked around. Their shaded expressions and eyes seemed to reflect the harshness of their lives.

    If they were adventurers, or preparing to be adventurers, it meant they were all graduates of the academy.

    They were seniors, but they didn¡¯t give off any good vibes. Contrary to the bright weather outside, they seemed gloomy and worn out.

    And there were even more merchants walking around than adventurers. Anyone could make requests to the Guild, but the primary clientele were merchants.

    Conversations about whether goods were received, which regional lord had started charging tolls, what gangs were causing troubletely, where goods were cheap, and where they were expensive floated in the air, asionally reaching their ears.

    Then Volka, who had gone inside, came back out.

    ¡°They said it¡¯s fine to look around for a bit. Just behave yourselves. Don¡¯t wander off needlessly.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Finally, Ricardt stepped into the Guild headquarters.

    The interior wasn¡¯t much different from any other tavern, except for the wanted posters hanging on the walls.

    There were so many wanted posters that they weren¡¯t neatly organized but rather stered over one another in a messyyer.

    But as soon as Boribori stepped inside, he saw someone sitting at the bar and flinched in shock, trembling. It was none other than the person who had beaten and doused him with water on his first day.

    The man, with a sword at his waist, was chatting with the bartender. When the bartender noticed Ricardt and Boribori being brought in by Volka, he greeted them.

    ¡°Oh, are these the kids? You guys need to eat a lot and grow big. Take it easy while you¡¯re here. No alcohol, though. If you learn about alcohol before you¡¯re of age, it can ruin you.¡±

    It seemed like a fairly decent piece of advice. Or was it not? In any case, when the bartender spoke to Volka¡¯s group, the man talking to him naturally turned his gaze toward them.

    As soon as he made eye contact with Ricardt, however, he was startled and visibly flustered.

    ¡°Oh? Uh¡­¡±

    ¡°Hello¡±

    Ricardt greeted him.

    ¡°Ah, uh, yes. Uh, how¡¯s the dormitory? Is itfortable?¡±

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s been fine.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ yes¡­¡±

    Seeing the veteran adventurer, who was both an Academy graduate and a skilled adventurer, at a loss for words, Volka, Boribori, and even the bartender widened their eyes in surprise.

    Volka and Boribori were so confused by not knowing what was going on that they were almost dumbstruck.

    The reason the senior adventurer was flustered upon seeing Ricardt was none other than because Ricardt was of noble birth.

    Just like Boribori, Ricardt had encountered this man on his first day. When he showed his admission letter, the man had been visibly startled since then.

    Seeing that reaction, Ricardt decided that if he wanted to livefortably at the Academy, he should keep his noble status a secret. So he just went around using his nickname as if it were his name.

    From the senior¡¯s perspective, it was awkward to treat him as a noble, but he couldn¡¯t treat him casually either. That¡¯s why Ricardt made the senior feel ufortable and difficult to deal with.

    Though he wasn¡¯t the eldest son, he was still the legitimate son, meaning he was a pure noble. And naturally, illegitimate children had a hard time dealing with legitimate ones. The senior was, in fact, an illegitimate child himself.

    ¡°I, I¡¯ll go back to my work. I¡¯ll be off now.¡±

    The senior hurriedly left his seat, even leaving behind his drink, and especially gave a polite bow to Ricardt as he departed.

    Volka and Boribori stared at Ricardt, their eyes demanding some sort of exnation.

    Ricardt just shrugged and made a simple excuse.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t hit him.¡±

    No matter how good you are at fighting, could you really beat up a senior? In this industry, strength was everything, and if you were weak, you lost, regardless of seniority. However, being an adventurer implied a different level of skill.

    The bartender, who had been watching with surprised eyes, soon seemed to understand. He had heard rumors about a noble attending the Academy and now realized that the boy in front of him was likely that noble.

    The bartender, unlike the senior who had left, was rather calm. Dealing with many people as a bartender, he seemed quick on the uptake.

    Noticing that Ricardt didn¡¯t want to reveal his noble status, the bartender quickly changed the subject.

    ¡°Hunt must be a bit out of it from drinking. Did you see that? Alcohol isn¡¯t really that great. By the way, Volka, have you heard the rumor?¡±

    ¡°What? Which one?¡±

    ¡°You know Roach, right?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ yes.¡±

    Roach wasn¡¯t well-regarded among adventurers. While his skills were decent, there were rumors that he secretlymitted crimes.

    Moreover, he was a bit of a thug as a person, so not many people liked him.

    Adventurers weren¡¯t as honorable as knights, but they weren¡¯t entirely without morals like bandits either. There was a line that most adventurers adhered to, and Roach was infamous for walking that line precariously.

    ¡°I heard he got a hole in his chin. His tongue got pierced too, so he can¡¯t even eat properly.¡±

    The bartender mimicked poking under his chin with his finger as he spoke.

    ¡°Why? How did that happen? Wasn¡¯t he supposed to be pretty skilled?¡±

    ¡°He messed with a woman from the tter n, and that¡¯s what happened to him. This is why you need to stay humble in this field. Skill isn¡¯t everything. Just watch, that bastard¡¯s going to die soon. He¡¯s made too many enemies. What an idiot.¡±

    The bartender, despite being in the same guild, seemed to really dislike Roach, almost cursing him. Or maybe it wasn¡¯t a curse but an urate prediction.

    ¡°What¡¯s a n?¡±

    Ricardt asked. He had been curious about it for a while but hadn¡¯t had the chance to get an exnation. The bartender wiped a cup with a towel as he replied.

    ¡°A n is a group of people within the guild whoe together because they get along well. It¡¯s great if they¡¯re skilled, but more importantly, they need to be trustworthy. That¡¯s why your time at the Academy is important. The kids who stick together then often stay togetherter. The kids know best who¡¯s skilled and who¡¯s trustworthy.¡±

    So it seemed that the guild was a collection of ns. While the two terms weren¡¯t exactly in a hierarchical rtionship, in practice, that¡¯s how it appeared.

    The guild provided work, gave orders, and most importantly, offered legitimacy to the ns through its connection with the Emperor. That was the most crucial aspect.

    ¡°Are you an academy graduate too, mister?¡±

    Ricardt asked.

    Ricardt didn¡¯t sit down but leaned against the bar, resting his arms on it, and asked. The bar¡¯s height reached up to his chest.

    ¡°Mister? Me? Haha, sorry, but I¡¯m not an Academy graduate. I was just an adventurer. You could say I was a problem solver affiliated with the Guild. Now that I¡¯ve retired from that, I do this kind of work, but I¡¯m still with the Guild. I provide tired adventurers with a warm ce to stay and asionally pass on instructions from the Guild.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a problem solver?¡±

    ¡°A problem solver is just that¡ªa person who ¡®takes care of things.¡¯¡±

    ¡°What does that mean, exactly?¡±

    ¡°In this line of work, ¡®taking care of things¡¯ means getting the client the results they want, by any means necessary.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ that sounds a bit scary.¡±

    ¡°It can be, or it might not be.¡±

    ¡°I see. By the way, do you happen to have a room that three people could stay in for a night?¡±

    Ricardt asked as he pulled out a pouch of money. But the bartender shook his head.

    ¡°Since it¡¯s your first visit, I¡¯ll offer you a night¡¯s stay for free. I¡¯ve got that much discretion. Head upstairs and take thest room on the right.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. By the way, what¡¯s your name, sir? I¡¯m Ricky.¡±

    ¡°¡­Well, that¡¯s better than just being called ¡®mister.¡¯ I¡¯m Dunkel.¡±

    ¡°Is that your real name?¡±

    At this, Dunkel smiled slightly, put down the cup he was cleaning, and leaned closer to Ricardt, speaking softly so others couldn¡¯t hear.

    ¡°Is it your real name, young master?¡±

    The bartender, who called himself Dunkel, had neatly groomed brown hair and a well-trimmed beard, giving him a clean appearance. And within his calm eyes, there was a hidden sharpness, like that of a well-honed dagger. Ricardt could see it.

    Ricardt simply smiled without saying anything. Then he turned to his two friends and asked,

    ¡°Let¡¯s unpack our things first and then go look around. How about it?¡±

    But both Volka and Boribori were staring at Ricardt in a daze, their expressionspletely nk.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°¡­Huh? Oh, nothing. Yeah, let¡¯s do that.¡±

    Volka replied, snapping out of it. It was strange. This wasn¡¯t a ce that would show such consideration just because it was their first day. In fact, it wasn¡¯t a ce associated with kindness at all.

    Boribori was at a loss for words, stunned by how casually Ricardt dealt with people who seemed so intimidating.

    Feeling a bit bewildered, the two followed Ricardt up the stairs.

    Silence fell over the hall, leaving only adventurers here and there, either passed out on tables or sipping their drinks gloomily.

    Then, a woman approached Dunkel.

    ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°His personality seems pretty easygoing.¡±

    ¡°No, not that.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t sense any mana from him.¡±

    ¡°Then is Roche an idiot, or did he learned some secret swordsmanship from his family?¡±

    The fact that Ricardt had defeated Roach was already known to those in the know. As a result, by the time Ricardt arrived at the Academy, the Guild had quietly begun to take notice of him.

    ¡°Probably both.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ So, are you going to test him?¡±

    Dunkel poured some liquor into the cup he had just been cleaning and handed it to the woman, shaking his head.

    ¡°No. That¡¯s not our job. It¡¯s the Academy¡¯s.¡±

 Chapter 18

    Chapter 18

    Trantor: Willia

    Boribori, as he ced three violet flowers into a wooden cup filled with water, smiled with satisfaction and said,

    ¡°This way, they¡¯ll stay fresh for about two days.¡±

    ¡°And after two days?¡±

    ¡°Um, they¡¯ll probably wither.¡±

    At the word ¡°wither,¡± Volka¡¯s expression instantly hardened. Then, without any warning, he grabbed the cup and flung the water and flowers out the window.

    ¡°Ah! Aah!¡±

    Boribori, startled, didn¡¯t know what to do and was flustered.

    ¡°Stop doing these girly nonsense!¡±

    Volka yelled, clearly enraged, though it seemed like something that shouldn¡¯t have warranted such anger. Ricardt sighed inwardly as he ced his bag on the table next to the bed. These two don¡¯t seem to get along, he thought.

    Boribori¡¯s face crumpled, and he started to tear up. His eyes already looked sad, but when he began to tear up, he looked truly pitiful.

    However, after swallowing his tears several times and moving his lips as if to chew on words, he stammered,

    ¡°But¡­ but there are plenty out in the fields. They¡¯ll bloom again when the swallows return next year. And the year after that.¡±

    It was a timid act of defiance.

    Volka, his eyes widening at the defiance, seemed to realize he might have overreacted and just turned his head sharply.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go quickly. The sun¡¯s setting.¡±

    Boribori, rolling his fearful eyes and observing Volka¡¯s nonchnt tone without any anger, sighed in relief inwardly.

    Ricardt, shaking his head, grabbed his money pouch, cloak, and dagger, and headed outside.

    Volka had a sword strapped to his waist, while Boribori wore only the old clothes of a deceased Academy student, with nothing else.

    As they passed through the hall, Dunkel, the bartender, took a sip of his drink and raised his hand slightly, as if to wish them farewell.

    It was still broad daylight outside. They had arrived a little earlier than expected, not taking the full six hours, so there was still some time left before sunset.

    Ricardt spoke,

    ¡°If we find a fabric store on the way, let¡¯s stop by. I need to buy some clothes. And some shoes too.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s move quickly. I have a lot to do.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Volka led his two friends first to an apiary a little distance away from the city.

    As they neared, bees began buzzing around, making it quite annoying.

    Volka grumbled about how much he hateding here, while Ricardt dodged around, waving his hands to ward off the bees. Surprisingly, Boribori walked around unaffected.

    He even let a beend on his fingertip and smiled brightly as if he found it amusing.

    As they climbed a hillside overgrown with bushes, they found a clearing with several beehives. Nearby, there were Academy students dressed in thick clothing covering their entire bodies.

    They had half-removed their protective outer garments, either because they were now used to it or because they were hot, despite the bees flying around.

    ¡°Volka.¡±

    When they spotted Volka, they greeted him with familiarity. Volka kept swatting at the bees as he replied,

    ¡°Nothing unusual, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. They gave it on time this time, no dys. Thanks to you, of course.¡±

    As they spoke, the students nced at Ricardt and Boribori. The students seemed a bit awkward, perhaps because they had witnessed Ricardt¡¯s skills firsthand.

    ¡°Hello.¡±

    So Ricardt greeted them first.

    ¡°Oh? Uh, hi¡­¡±

    ¡°Seriously, some bastards only listen when you talk tough. They kept bullshitting about knowing someone at headquarters, but it was all lies. Even if anyone had connections, it would be us, not them¡­ Ow! Damn it!¡±

    Volka, spewing harsh words about someone who wasn¡¯t present, finally got stung by a bee. But Ricardt, unfazed, asked the student working at the apiary,

    ¡°Is the work manageable?¡±

    ¡°Oh? Uh, yeah. It¡¯s manageable. Now that it¡¯s spring, the bees are starting to produce honey in earnest, so we have to watch them closely. Like, if hose or if there¡¯s a swarm, things like that. There¡¯s not much else to do.¡±

    ¡°Hey, hurry up and give me the money. It hurts like hell.¡±

    Volka seemed to be exaggerating a bit about getting stung by the bee. After all, he had faced Ricardt¡¯s punches head-on without flinching.

    ¡°Stop with the nonsense and just give me the money already,¡± Volka urged.

    ¡°Yeah, hold on a second.¡±

    The students at the apiary, who seemed to have already collected the money, handed Volka three silver coins. It appeared that each person contributed one coin. This was considered a job referral fee and also a sort of protection fee.

    While the exact details were unclear, there had apparently been some recent issues rted to dyed wages.

    In an era where honey and beeswax were valuable, beekeeping was typically a business monopolized by the lord, but the problemy with the middle managers.

    When issues arose because these guys were skimming off the top, there was no choice but to resort to force. That¡¯s where Volka came in.

    However, getting the full wage was practically impossible. Even if they strongly pressured the middle manager, they couldn¡¯t really resort to physical violence; the best they could do was negotiate for a bit. Whether they¡¯d take half or 10%. That was the reality.

    The reason for this situation was that the middle managers were usually either retainers or servants of the lord, who had to work for the lord without any pay.

    Even if the lord was somewhat considerate and gave wages taking into ount the skimming, there were no specific rules about how much should be shared with the actual workers.

    The worst case was when there were many middle managers. If the lord assigned work to a retainer, and the retainer assigned it to another retainer or servant, almost nothing would be left for the person actually doing the work.

    Fortunately, Beringen didn¡¯t have such issues often, so the situation there was rtively better.

    ¡°Hey! I¡¯m leaving! Let me know if anything happens!¡±

    Volka, as soon as he received the money, turned around and dashed down the hill as if escaping. Even while running, he kept iling his arms.

    Ricardt and Boribori hurriedly followed after him, waving back as they went.

    ¡°It was nice meeting you. See you next time!¡±

    The students who had been chatting and the two guarding the beehives awkwardly waved back.

    Volka, after running until he was out of the bees¡¯ territory, panted heavily and said,

    ¡°Ha, ha, it¡¯s best to deal with the annoying stuff early on.¡±

    ¡°Where to next?¡±

    ¡°The cksmith¡¯s. It¡¯s close to the northern district, so be careful. Not that you need to be too scared. The Nords are damn good with iron. Next time you get some money, Ricky, you should buy a sword there.¡±

    Volka spoke while patting the sword at his waist. It didn¡¯t have any special decorations, but it seemed well-made and well-finished. The real quality, however, could only be known by drawing it.

    Following Volka, Ricardt and Boribori headed toward the riverbank. It was a windy ce, and there was a cksmith¡¯s shop where a waterwheel turned vigorously.

    Bang! Ta-dang! Bang! Ta-dang¡­¡­!

    The sound of metal being struck in a steady rhythm could be heard. A familiar scent drifted through the air, carried by the wind¡ªthe smell of fire and iron.

    However, instead of the scent of blood and death, it was mixed with sweat and creation.

    Unlike at the apiary, Volka didn¡¯t enter the cksmith¡¯s shop confidently; instead, he lingered around the perimeter. Soon, a person who had been working on moving and pouring molten metal noticed him and approached.

    It was a student named Molty, the oldest-looking student at the Academy. He was much taller than Volka, and his build wasparable to that of a Nord. In fact, he might have Nordian blood.

    Judging by his appearance alone, it was hard to believe he was still a teenager. His forehead was already receding, making him look like he was in his 40s.

    His face was flushed from working, and it was covered in ck soot. He wiped the sweat off his face with a dirty cloth.

    Without saying a word, he approached Volka and handed him the money. For some reason, it wasn¡¯t just one silver coin, but three copper coins.

    ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m not doing too well either.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll be on my way. Take care.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    As they were about to leave after exchanging money, Ricardt asked a question. Boribori, hiding behind Ricardt, peeked out with just his eyes showing.

    ¡°Is the work manageable?¡±

    Molty looked down at Ricardt with a steady gaze and replied in his deep voice,

    ¡°You earn as much as you sweat. It¡¯s honest work. I¡¯m satisfied with that.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m curious, how old are you?¡±

    ¡°Sixteen.¡±

    ¡°Liar.¡±

    Molty just chuckled softly and turned back to continue his work.

    ¡°Hey, Ricky. Stop saying unnecessary things and let¡¯s go quickly.¡±

    Despite saying there was no need to be afraid, Volka seemed eager to leave, likely because the Nords made him uneasy.

    The Nords had thick, bushy beards, which seemed to bristle due to the heat. They didn¡¯t seem to pay any attention to Volka¡¯s group.

    Water dripped from the tip of a sword that had just been quenched. It was a masterpiece crafted purely through strength and sweat, forged in the fire.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go, Ricky. I¡¯m scared too,¡± said Boribori, already pulling on Ricardt¡¯s cloak as he spoke. Volka had already started to move away.

    Ricardt wanted to observe a bit more but reluctantly followed after them.

    Volka led Ricardt and Boribori to various ces around the area: a tannery, a ughterhouse, and ces where people simply carried loads, and so on. There was even a brothel among the locations.

    At each of these ces, he collected referral fees or protection money. However, the more Volka counted the money, the darker his expression became.

    By now, the sun was setting and the sky was filled with the evening glow. Workers were starting to return from their workces to their resting ces.

    Fortunately, they managed to stop by a fabric shop before it closed. Ricardt bought clothes and shoes there, and then gifted them to Boribori.

    Boribori, who thought Ricardt was buying the clothes for himself, was shocked when he gave them to him. His eyes widened in surprise, and he couldn¡¯t even manage to say thank you, just stammering in disbelief.

    Ricardt, as if understanding his feelings, said,

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. We agreed not to say thank you among ourselves, remember?¡±

    ¡°Th-then, what should I do? Should I say sorry?¡±

    ¡°Haha, no, that wouldn¡¯t be right either, would it? Just use them well. That¡¯ll make me feel good.¡±

    ¡°Ricky¡­¡±

    Boribori¡¯s eyes welled up with tears. Such kindness overwhelmed him, and he couldn¡¯t hold back his emotions.

    ¡°Waaaah!¡±

    ¡°Hey! Are you crazy?!¡±

    Ricardt was startled and flustered when Boribori suddenly burst into tears in the middle of the street. But no matter how he tried to calm him down, he only cried harder, as if releasing all his pent-up emotions.

    ¡°Uwaaah!¡±

    ¡°This won¡¯t do. Let¡¯s get back to the inn quickly.¡±

    Ricardt had no choice but to drag Boribori along as they headed back to the Guild headquarters. Throughout the journey, Boribori clutched the new clothes and shoes to his chest like the most precious treasure. They were getting all wrinkled.

    Fortunately, by the time they reached the Guild headquarters, Boribori¡¯s crying had subsided.

    Then, Volka, who had been silent and had a tense expression the whole time, hesitantly spoke to Ricardt.

    ¡°Uh, hey, Ricky.¡±

    ¡°Huh? What is it?¡±

    ¡°I noticed at the fabric shop earlier¡­ It seemed like you had quite a bit of money¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, I managed to earn a little bit on the way to the Academy, got lucky.¡±

    ¡°So, I was wondering¡­ Could you lend me a little?¡±

    ¡°How much?¡±

    ¡°Five¡­ silver coins¡­¡±

    Five silver coins was by no means a small amount. Of course, whether money was considered a lot or a little could be rtive, but on average, it was substantial. For ordinary people, five silver coins was a considerable sum, especially for young boys.

    ¡°Can you tell me what it¡¯s for?¡±

    Volka, too embarrassed to meet Ricardt¡¯s eyes directly, scratched his nose and mumbled in a voice barely louder than a whisper,

    ¡°I¡¯m short on tribute money¡­¡±

    Tribute money? What does he mean by that?

    ¡°Do you need it right now?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Today¡¯s the due date. Tomorrow, I have other things to take care of.¡±

    Ricardt took out his money pouch and retrieved five silver coins. As he handed them over, he said,

    ¡°Can Ie with you?¡±

    ¡°Huh? Uh¡­¡±

    ¡°Do we need to go now?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Without knowing the exact destination, Ricardt started walking first. Boribori blinked his teary eyes, wiped away his tears, and simply followed.

    The sunset deepened, and as the sun disappeared, dusk began to settle.

    Around that time, Ricardt¡¯s group reached a quiet field somewhere, with farmhouses scattered sparsely.

    A campfire was burning, and around it, groups of people were chatting and joking with each other.

    There were three groups in total, about twenty peoplebined, and they were all Academy students. The ratio of males to females was simr, and there were some male and female students sitting close together, perhaps couples.

    The group known as the ¡°Ice Gang,¡± ranked from 1st to 5th, stood slightly apart, saying nothing, just silently standing together. It was impossible to tell what they were thinking.

    The other students were eitherughing or having serious conversations.

    As Volka walked towards them, the sound of their conversations abruptly ceased. Volka approached each group and handed over the money. There was no significant conversation during the exchange.

    After handing over all the money, Volka turned around and walked back. Ricardt and Boribori, who had been watching from a distance, followed him.

    ¡°Why do you have to give them money?¡± Ricardt asked.

    ¡°Just because. Isn¡¯t that how the world works? It¡¯s the same here.¡±

    Just as farmers paid taxes to the lord from their harvests, the Academy had a structure where lower-ranked students pooled their money and paid it to higher-ranked students.

    Today, Volka had managed to defeat the student ranked 15th in ss, reducing the number of students he had to pay tribute to, but that didn¡¯t mean he had to pay any less money.

    ¡°In the past, they just beat us and took it. It only got worse when they started beating us for money even if we couldn¡¯t find work in the city. A lot of students ended up jumping off cliffs because of it. But, I thought at least we should have jobs, and if everyone pooled their money, it might be a bit better¡­¡±

    Volka wasn¡¯t helping other students find jobs or protecting them purely for his own benefit.

    In fact, by doing this, he ended up neglecting himself and even had to use his own money to pay the tribute.

    ¡°Sorry. I¡¯ll definitely pay you back.¡±

    Volka said, bowing his head in embarrassment. Given his independent nature, it was clear he was deeply ashamed of having to ask Ricardt for money.

    But suddenly, Ricardt stopped dead in his tracks. Then, he turned around and briskly walked back towards the campfire. Volka and Boribori, confused, hurried after him.

    When they arrived back at the campfire, the three groups of students were still there. They all stared at Ricardt, who had appeared so suddenly.

    Ricardt stood there and spoke,

    ¡°Hey. All of you. Give the money back.¡±

    Silence fell over the area, and for a while, the only sound was the crackling of the campfire. Sparks flew up from the mes, disappearing into the night sky.

    Then, somewhere, there was the sound of someone scoffing in disbelief.

    ¡°Is it you? The newbie who beat up Volka?¡±

    ¡°I said, give the money back.¡±

    ¡°You know, we don¡¯t do childish things like pankration here.¡±

    One student said this as he slowly drew his sword from his waist. Ricardt, however, stared at him, unfazed, with an intense gaze.

    The flickering mes reflected in the boy¡¯s hazel eyes. But they weren¡¯t as hot as the quiet anger burning beyond them.

    Ricardt then spoke softly, but his words were clearly heard.

    ¡°You will die¡­¡±

 Chapter 19

    Chapter 19

    Trantor: Willia

    Dusk had fallen, and it was a night where even thest hint of the violet twilight had disappeared. In a quiet clearing somewhere east of Beringen, a bonfire was burning.

    The flickering mes were like an ominous demon that had caught the scent of death, licking its lips and flicking its tongue.

    Crackle. Crack. Crackle¡­

    The shadows stretched and contracted on their own, as if watching a cursed puppet dance.

    Someone sitting on a fallen tree trunk grabbed the sword at their waist and slowly stood up. He looked at the boy beyond the fire.

    ¡°In the old days, if you showed potential, the seniors would have cut you down in advance. Things seem to have gotten better nowadays.¡±

    He was saying that they used to kill anyone who could be a futurepetitor before they could grow.

    But what does that have to do with me? Ricardt looked at him with eyes burning with anger and spoke.

    ¡°Is your life worth just a few silver coins? What a cheap life. Even the countryside bandits are worth more.¡±

    He was referring to the Vilton brothers. They were worth 30 silver coins each.

    At Ricardt¡¯s cold criticism, the man skillfully drew his sword with a steady stance. The sleek de glistened in the firelight.

    Watching from a distance, Boribori felt his hair stand on end as he saw the real sword.

    There was a distinct chill to a sharp sword when seen up close. And oddly enough, it had a certain charm, or perhaps a sense of power.

    Ricardt, on the other hand, turned to Volka and spoke without any change in his expression.

    ¡°Volka, lend me your sword.¡±

    ¡°What? Uh¡­ sure.¡±

    ¡°Hurry up.¡±

    Volka, after ncing nervously at the people around the bonfire, quickly approached Ricardt and whispered softly.

    ¡°He¡¯s ranked 7th. He can wield mana. It¡¯s not toote to apologize now. I¡¯ll try to smooth things over.¡±

    But Ricardt, without a second thought, drew the sword from Volka¡¯s waist and lightly pushed him aside as he said,

    ¡°Step back, Volka. You might get hurt.¡±

    By this point, Volka¡¯s heart was racing, filled with anxiety and fear. What should I do?

    Without knowing Volka¡¯s feelings, Ricardt had already pushed the situation to an extreme, and the die was already cast.

    But the opponent looked at Ricardt holding the sword and let out augh, as if he couldn¡¯t believe it.

    It was because the length and weight of the sword didn¡¯t match Ricardt. In short, it looked like a kid holding a sword.

    Yet, at the same time, there was something oddly stable about it. Well, maybe he wasn¡¯tpletely untrained.

    The opponent didn¡¯t take any particr stance and simply walked over to the side of the bonfire. Ricardt followed suit, moving to the side of the fire.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you¡¯ve lost all sense of fear, but that¡¯s how the world works. Talent is a gift from the gods, and those without it are supposed to support us.¡±

    Ricardt found it genuinely ridiculous. Truly, the twisted mindset of an immature fool.

    ¡°Sorry, but talent won¡¯t guarantee your life.¡±

    The opponent was very irritated by Ricardt¡¯s words, which seemed to strike back without giving an inch. Perhaps he was annoyed by the fact that Ricardt wasn¡¯t scared even though he had drawn his sword. He should have been trembling in fear before him.

    ¡°Hmm¡­ I must see you cry and beg for forgiveness. Let¡¯s start with one arm.¡±

    The opponent still didn¡¯t take a particr stance, just let his sword hang by his side and took a deep breath.

    Then, even though there was no wind, the bonfire flickered oddly. It seemed like he was using mana.

    After taking a long breath, he paused for a moment. Then suddenly, the bonfire bent to the side as if struck by a strong wind.

    Fwoosh.

    ¡°Hup!¡±

    The opponent suddenly appeared right in front of Ricardt. His eyes were wide open, his mouth filled with air, and his sword was raised high above his head.

    The process of closing the distance was so inhumanly fast that it seemed as though a portion of time had been cut away.

    In the dark moonlit night, a sh of the sword¡¯s gleam cut through the air.

    ng-!

    Then came the metallic sound that tore through the stillness of the night.

    The opponent felt a jolt through his wrist, apanied by a sense of emptiness. His sword had been sliced in half. What? Hold on.

    In that brief, fleeting moment, countless thoughts raced through his mind. Was it defective? No, that can¡¯t be. I maintained it every day.

    He hadn¡¯t yet mastered the delicate art of controlling mana, and he had overshot Ricardt by a wide margin.

    Hurriedly, he tried to call out to his friends for a new sword. But no voice came out.

    ¡°Kuluk! Kek!¡±

    What, what¡¯s happening? Wait, hold on. He felt the front of his shirt growing damp, and hurriedly reached for his neck. Warm blood quickly soaked his hand. His eyes widened in realization.

    Ricardt, standing by the fire, turned to look at him. The anger in Ricardt¡¯s eyes had subsided somewhat, reced by a cold indifference. All around, everyone¡¯s eyes were wide with shock, including his own friends.

    At that moment, two conflicting thoughts shed in his mind.

    One was a denial of reality, while the other was an attempt to ept the situation objectively. Did I lose? No way. Wait, am I¡­ dying? It¡¯s a lie. It doesn¡¯t make sense. Dying? I¡¯m just. I¡¯m just¡­¡­

    Having never prepared himself for the possibility of death, he was not ready to ept what was happening.

    But no matter how much his mind struggled between denial and eptance, his soul was already halfway to the afterlife.

    More than anything, he started to struggle to breathe. Blood that had escaped the confines of his veins was now blocking his airway.

    ¡°Kuluk! Kuluk! Kruruk¡­¡­¡±

    ng.

    He dropped the broken sword from his hand, staggering for a moment before his head spun and his vision blurred. He copsed with a thud, and soon after, his body went limp, the life drained from his eyes.

    His neck had been cut just enough for him to die. Even after his death, blood continued to gurgle out for a while.

    The bonfire continued to burn. The moon in the sky remained as it was, indifferent to whether he lived or died.

    Everyone froze in ce, unable to believe what had just happened. Even if they considered the slim chance that Ricardt had broken the sword, it was impossible to cleanly cut the neck in one trajectory without magic. If this was intentional, it was spine-chilling.

    However, to Ricardt, the opponent was nothing more than a fast-moving monkey.

    Ricardt understood the principle that timing outstrips speed, and precision overwhelms power, and he had the ability to actually implement that principle.

    So, an opponent who simply tried to move quickly or rely on brute strength through mana couldn¡¯t match up to Ricardt.

    Holding Volka¡¯s sword, Ricardt scanned the upper ranks of the academy with a gaze full of contempt.

    Strangely, Volka¡¯s sword remainedpletely unscathed, not even a single chip. Instead, it seemed to thirst for more blood, as the mes reflected in its de danced wildly.

    Standing in the firelight, the boy¡¯s presence was imposing. Even in the face of the academy¡¯s top ranks, he not only did not shrink back, but he overwhelmed them.

    Thebels of ¡°rookie¡± or ¡°kid¡± that had stuck to Ricardt were nowpletely gone. As if the world had been turned upside down, the dismissive looks from before had entirely disappeared.

    Now, their gazes had shifted to one of disbelief in the oue, shock at the reality before them, and a fear that they too could be killed.

    No matter how childlike he appeared, the aura of someone who had made the world tremble in fear was not something that students who hadn¡¯t even stepped into society could handle.

    The disconnect between his appearance and the reality made the situation even more chilling and terrifying.

    ¡°Listen carefully to what I¡¯m about to say. Until I graduate, don¡¯t ever talk about talent or whatever in front of me. You¡¯re all just worthless trash anyway. There won¡¯t be any more tribute payments. And one more thing. From now on, I¡¯m the first rank. If anyone has a problem with that, step forward now.¡±

    The people around didn¡¯t immediately grasp the reality before them, but gradually, their gazes shifted toward Ice, the former number one, and his group.

    Ricardt¡¯s gaze also turned to the silver-haired boy whose hair resembled moonlight. However, the boy neither showed hostility toward Ricardt nor submitted to him. His expression remained indifferent and emotionless.

    Ice pulled the tribute money from his pocket and ced it on the ground. Without voicing anyints, he quietly left with his group. To others, it looked like he was surrendering.

    As Ice left the scene, two dark silhouettes that had been watching from afar also departed.

    It might have seemed somewhat anticlimactic, but the matter was settled. Ricardt was now ranked first.

    Ricardt had literally settled the ranking with a single stroke, reiming all the tribute money. The nameless corpse was taken care of by his friends.

    On the way back to the guild headquarters, Ricardt returned Volka¡¯s sword and handed him money.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to pay tribute anymore. Leader.¡±

    ¡°Ri¡­ Ricky¡­¡±

    Volka, clutching the money in his trembling hands, looked at Ricardt with teary eyes, then looked down at the money in his hands, before suddenly biting his lip and lowering his head. He struggled to swallow the emotions welling up inside him. He bit down so hard that it seemed like his mrs might crack.

    No matter how independent Volka was, he was still young. The desire to lean on someone, to be protected at times, was something he couldn¡¯tpletely shake off.

    The lifelong sorrow and pent-up resentment he had felt were beyond words, and now, all the suppressed emotions came flooding to the surface.

    ¡°Le, let¡¯s go ahead, Ricky,¡±

    Boribori said, tugging at the hem of Ricardt¡¯s cloak.

    ¡°¡­Alright.¡±

    Ricardt, understanding the situation, decided to give Volka some space. He knew that leaving him alone was the considerate thing to do at this moment.

    As Ricardt and Boribori walked away, tears began to stream down Volka¡¯s tightly shut eyes. Soon, he copsed onto the ground, burying his face in his arms, and sobbed uncontrobly.

    The sound of Volka crying could be heard behind Ricardt¡¯s back. It sounded like a sorrowful beast pouring out its resentment.

    It was a night when the moonlight seemed unusually gentle.

    The next morning, Ricardt and Boribori woke up in a tangled mess, the nkets either half-covering them or crumpled around them.

    Ricardt, with his hair sticking out in all directions, looked around and noticed that Volka was nowhere to be seen. Worried that something might have happened during the night, he hastily got dressed and went downstairs.

    ¡°Uncle Dunkel, have you seen Volka?¡±

    ¡°Um, could you stop calling me that?¡±

    ¡°Old man, Dunkel have you seen Volka?¡±

    ¡°He¡­ left early this morning, young master.¡±

    Dunkel subtly threatened Ricardt by hinting that if he kept calling him Uncle or Old man, he might reveal Ricardt¡¯s noble status.

    Ricardt, understanding the implication, chuckled as if amused. This guy is sharp, huh? Well, as long as Volka is safe, it¡¯s fine.

    ¡°Do you know where Volka works?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t. His work changes time to time.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ then how long can we stay here? We n to leave today, but I¡¯d like to at least say goodbye to Volka.¡±

    ¡°You can stay until lunchtime. If you want to stay longer, you¡¯ll have to pay for another day.¡±

    Ricardt tapped the bar with his finger, thinking about the time it would take to return to the academy and various other things. In the end, he decided to wait until lunchtime, and if he couldn¡¯t see Volka by then, there would be nothing more he could do.

    Ricardt returned to the room, woke Boribori, and they had breakfast together. After that, they wandered around the area near the guild headquarters, taking in a bit of the city.

    But nothing was fun or exciting. They just aimlessly looked around, and then returned to the headquarters around lunchtime.

    While they were eating, preparing to leave, Volka still hadn¡¯t shown up.

    ¡°Well, he¡¯s not missing or anything, so it¡¯s fine,¡± Ricardt thought, deciding to head back to the academy.

    ¡°See you next time, Uncle Dunkel.¡±

    Ricardt said, tossing out the farewell casually, and then walked out of the building. He retraced his steps along the path he had taken with Boribori.

    As they left the crowded area, a spring breeze blew. The scent of grass and flowers brushed past their noses. Ricardt paused to look at the fields when suddenly, he heard Volka¡¯s voice from behind.

    ¡°Hey! Ricky! Boribori!¡±

    From the moment they left in the morning until now, Ricardt and Boribori had acted indifferent, but as soon as they heard the voice they¡¯d been waiting for, they immediately turned around.

    They saw Volka running toward them from a distance, and finally, a smile spread across their previously expressionless faces.

    ¡°How¡¯s work? What kind of job are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Forget about that, here, take this. I¡¯ve got to go back soon.¡±

    Volka handed something over. It was clothing. When held up in the air, there was an embroidered purple violet on the chest.

    It was unlikely that Volka had embroidered it himself; he must have hurriedly asked someone he knew to make it, which exined why he¡¯d been busy since early morning. It couldn¡¯t have been easy to find purple thread.

    ¡°This way, it won¡¯t wither. And¡­¡±

    Volka hesitated for a moment, rubbing his nose awkwardly, before speaking to Boribori.

    ¡°Sorry aboutst time, for throwing the flowers away.¡±

    It was surprising. Volka, apologizing? It might even be considered a miracle.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry too, for acting like a girl.¡±

    Boribori also apologized. Though it¡¯s questionable whether that was something to apologize for.

    Volka, embarrassed, kept scratching his short hair.

    At that moment, a cool spring breeze blew, caressing the three boys like a divine touch. It seemed to be saying that everything was alright.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be going now. We¡¯ll see each other at the academy anyway.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Ricardt shook his head. Volka and Boribori looked at him, surprised by the unexpected response.

    ¡°We¡¯ll see each other not just at the academy, but anywhere. Because we¡¯re eternal friends.¡±

    Ricardt pointed to the clumsily embroidered violet on the clothing as he spoke. The two boys smiled.

    Then Boribori spoke as if he had just remembered something.

    ¡°By the way, didn¡¯t we agree not to say things like ¡®thank you¡¯ or ¡®sorry¡¯ to each other?¡±

    Ricardt thought about giving some kind of excuse or reasoning but ended up giving up.

    ¡°Hmm¡­ sometimes it¡¯s okay, right?¡±

    ¡°Hehehe, yeah, you¡¯re right.¡±

    ¡°You guys should get going now. The city gates will close by evening.¡±

    ¡°Okay. You should go too, Volka.¡±

    Even though they were telling each other to go, none of them could bring themselves to leave. They wanted to watch their friend leave, but didn¡¯t want to show themselves leaving as a friend. For some reason, it just felt that way.

    The fields were filled with blooming spring flowers, making it look like the Garden of Eden. The purple violets swayed gently in the breeze.

    Chapter 5 ¨C Not Comrades, But Friends. End

 Chapter 20

    Chapter 20

    Trantor: Willia

    Once Ricardt had sorted out the hierarchy, some things changed at Beringen Academy, while others remained the same.

    The most significant change was that the so-called ¡°tribute money¡± had disappeared. In other words, the culture of exploitation carried out by higher-ranked students was no longer present.

    What hadn¡¯t changed was that the freshmen still had to undergo initiation, and lower-ranked students still had to step aside when they encountered higher-ranked students in the corridors. Volka was still the leader among the students.

    With the exploitation gone, the students were finally able to stand on their own. Regardless of rank, everyone could now work hard to earn money, attend sses, and walk toward their futures.

    In their own way, following their own traditions and rules, the students of Beringen Academy lived on like that. Even if it was a ce like a henhouse.

    Ricardt, when he wanted, generously taught the students. He didn¡¯t discriminate against anyone, whether their rank was high or low. Because to Ricardt, they all seemed pretty much the same.

    Volka worked the hardest. He busily went back and forth between the dormitory and the city, and trained even harder than before.

    All he needed was just a piece of hope. The hope to live earnestly.

    However, although Ricardt disliked talking about talent, even if he disliked it, talent undeniably existed.

    And, it seemed there were things even Ricardt couldn¡¯t manage.

    ¡°Why isn¡¯t this working? Why!¡±

    Behind the dormitory, which was like a henhouse, in the training ground, Ricardt fiercely swung his sword at the air with ring eyes and yelled out.

    Boribori stood awkwardly next to him, holding a practice sword with a sullen expression.

    Even Ricardt, who rarely lost hisposure, had finally broken down while trying to teach Boribori.

    Despite teaching all day, nothing had changed. From head to toe, everything was wrong from the start. Even if he corrected one thing,ter on, this part would be right, but the other part would be wrong, and if that other part was right, this part would be wrong.

    Boribori showed no sign of improvement. This had been going on for three days now. At this point, you might say Ricardt¡¯s patience deserved some respect.

    The funny thing was that the kids who were watching Ricardt teach Boribori learned faster by observing over his shoulder.

    Others were blocked by the high wall that was Ricardt, but Ricardt was blocked by the low wall that was Boribori.

    ¡°Ah¡­ Please, Bori. I feel like I¡¯m going to die.¡±

    Ricardt said as he tightly closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

    ¡°S-Sorry. I¡¯ll try harder.¡±

    ¡°Trying is important, but do it well. You¡¯re trying to do it well, right? You said you wanted to be an adventurer?¡±

    ¡°¡­I want to do well, but it¡¯s not going well¡­¡±

    Seeing Boribori¡¯s dejected appearance, Ricardt quickly felt guilty again. Yeah, it¡¯s not like he¡¯s failing on purpose. It¡¯s not like he¡¯s trying to mess with me.

    ¡°¡­Sorry for getting angry.¡±

    ¡°N-No, I¡¯m the one who¡¯scking¡­¡±

    Ricardt looked at Boribori with a troubled expression. And then a thought urred to him.

    When others called him a genius, he didn¡¯t really think it was true. He thought he was just better than others due to his past life experiences, not because he had any special talent.

    But that wasn¡¯t the case. He really was a genius. He had been one from the beginning.

    In his past life, Ricky could grasp the core of anything with just a nce and was quick to reach enlightenment. He could refine original techniques, and on top of that, he was creative enough to develop and quickly master better techniques.

    The ironic thing was that Ricky never had the time to realize he had talent. He didn¡¯t go through any training process; from the start, he was thrown into life-and-death battles, fighting in bloody conflicts all his life.

    You either died, or you survived. In that space between life and death, there was no time to ponder whether you had talent or not.

    Ricardt realized, as he looked at Boribori, that all those things he had taken for granted were actually talents.

    In any case, what should one do if they don¡¯t have talent? Even thinking about it, there wasn¡¯t really a clear answer.

    ¡°Let¡¯s take it slow. There¡¯s no need to rush.¡±

    ¡°Okay¡­¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s take a break.¡±

    ¡°Okay. But I have to cut the grass.¡±

    Boribori didn¡¯t go back to the dormitory but instead walked around the training ground and headed out. Soon, he arrived at the overgrown area behind the main building, the inner fortress.

    The area where the Beringen Academy was located was a t zone on top of rocky cliffs. It was surprisingly vast, with more than half of it covered in dense forest.

    Since it was spring, the nts had started to grow wildly, and from this point on, they had to cut the grass periodically. By the time summer came, it was something they did almost every day.

    Such tasks were typically done by the lower-ranked students or those who didn¡¯t even have a rank, the so-called ¡°lower ss.¡± Unfortunately, Boribori was one of the lower ss.

    Since it was a ce where people lived, there were plenty of chores to be done, like cleaning, doingundry, and cutting the grass.

    In the overgrown area, students were already cutting grass with sickles. Those without sickles were carrying the cut grass away and throwing it off the cliff.

    Ricardt rolled up his sleeves and joined them. Even though he was now ranked number one, he didn¡¯t shy away from dirty work.

    At first, the students felt awkward about it, but over time, as it became a routine, they naturally adapted. It had already been three months since Ricardt had enrolled. Born in April, Ricardt had now turned eleven.

    A mere ten-year-old had beaten all the strong students as soon as he arrived and then defeated the seventh-ranked student in a real sword fight to im the number one spot.

    It was an incredible debut, one that was almost unprecedented in the academy¡¯s history. The students were just relieved that the current number one was mild-mannered and down-to-earth.

    This was because while another student could act as the leader, the overall atmosphere of the academy was determined by the personality of the 1st-ranked.

    Some ruled like tyrants, while others squeezed the students like ruthless lords.

    Although the students couldn¡¯t pinpoint exactly what had changed, they could clearly feel it. Many things had changed.

    As Ricardt worked, his clothes became dirty with soil and grass stains. The other students were in the same state.

    Ricardt brushed off his clothes, swept the messy ground, and sat down to rest. Boribori came over, fidgeting, and then handed something to him.

    ¡°Hold out your hand.¡±

    When Ricardt extended his hand, Boribori sprinkled something from his pocket onto Ricardt¡¯s palm. It was bread crumbs, finely crushed from hard bread.

    These weren¡¯t just in bread crumbs; they were mixed with salt and ground herbs collected from nature, making it a kind of simple snack.

    Ricardt tossed it into his mouth all at once and chewed. As the bread crumbs softened in his mouth, the salty and subtly fragrant taste filled his senses, and it wasn¡¯t bad at all.

    Boribori also threw the snack into his mouth and chewed. Then, as he looked somewhere, he frowned.

    ¡°Can¡¯t you go beat them up?¡±

    When Ricardt turned his head to look, he saw the Ice gang gathered in a shady spot, talking among themselves.

    Just as Volka had assessed, the Ice gang had no interest in the academy.

    They didn¡¯t care whether other kids lived or died, had parties, or whether Ricardt became the number one, they just remained aloof. But isn¡¯t that not necessarily a bad thing?

    ¡°All of a sudden?¡±

    Boribori, though not usually one to act like a fox relying on a tiger¡¯s power, seemed to have a particr dislike for the Ice gang.

    ¡°It¡¯s not sudden. They¡¯re bad guys.¡±

    ¡°On what basis?¡±

    Boribori leaned in and whispered into Ricardt¡¯s ear.

    ¡°They¡¯re heretics. Heretics.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°When we went to the city the other day, I saw them by chance. They met with some bad people and do this. I saw it.¡±

    Boribori covered his eyes with the back of his hand. Ricardt had seen this gesture somewhere before. Was it Daisy¡¯s mother who did that?

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that something from the Order of Judgement, or whatever it¡¯s called?¡±

    ¡°Yeah! That¡¯s what makes them heretics!¡±

    When it came to religion, people had different ways of epting it. While Boribori wasn¡¯t particrly devout, he seemed to have a strong aversion to heresy.

    ¡°Sorry, but I¡¯m not an inquisitor.¡±

    ¡°Even if they might steal kids¡¯ hearts or livers while they sleep? If they¡¯re borrowing evil powers, even you wouldn¡¯t be safe, Ricky.¡±

    Ricardt looked at Boribori with a pitying expression and said,

    ¡°Do you actually believe that? Where did you pick up such nonsense?¡±

    ¡°My mom told me.¡±

    ¡°¡­It¡¯s not bad to be cautious, but going out of your way to start a fight isn¡¯t the answer. If you really don¡¯t like them, why don¡¯t you go fight them yourself?¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°So let¡¯s just focus on training properly.¡±

    ¡°Okay¡­¡±

    Boribori replied gloomily, his mouth twitching slightly. Ricardt, who was two years younger than Boribori, roughly ruffled his bowl-cut hair.

    ¡°Let¡¯s wash up first. And clean our clothes too.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Ricardt and Boribori went together to the well in the inner courtyard. By the time they got there, other kids had already gathered around the well, undressing and washing themselves. Though there were female students living in other buildings, this was just how things were.

    The boys, who were growing quickly and had developed solid physiques, actually enjoyed the attention of the girls watching them from a distance through the windows.

    Ricardt and Boribori also undressed and began drawing up the water with a bucket. A bucket full of water was quite heavy, requiring considerable strength to pull up with the rope.

    Daily life itself was physical training. Regrly climbing up and down cliffside stairs and making the six-hour round trip to the city¡ªall of it.

    As a result, none of the academy students were overweight, and most of them had lean, muscr bodies.

    Ricardt was taller than most kids his age, standing at about 160 centimeters, while Boribori, at 150 centimeters, was shorter than average. For reference, Volka, who was fifteen, stood in the high 170s.

    The students all varied in height, weight, appearance, ce of origin, and background. The only thing they had inmon was that they had all been abandoned by their families.

    Ricardt was the only one who hade here by his own choice and, perhaps because he had grown up in a rtively good environment, there was something subtly different about himpared to the other students.

    Although he didn¡¯t intend it, his personality might have been influencing the current atmosphere. Within the academy, everyone was just another student.

    After washing up, Ricardt quickly headed back to the dormitory with the other students.

    Those who had towels dried their wet hair and bodies and lent the towels to their friends. Ricardt, without a towel, dried himself by using his change of clothes to wipe down his hair and body before putting them on. There was a small violet embroidery on one side of his chest.

    Since the day was overcast, the freshly washed clothes were hung near a fire outside, with a few students watching over them.

    Ricardt¡¯s bed had recently been moved to an upper bunk in the middle of the room, not for any particr reason other than being farther from the doors. It was less distracting that way, especially when students frequently passed by.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, it¡¯s true! He¡¯s definitely the swordsmanship instructor! I was on my way to work when I saw himing out of the pigsty, so I asked him, ¡®Why are youing out of there?¡¯ And then, covered in a pile of dung, he said¡­!¡±

    There¡¯s always someone who likes to clown around and make peopleugh, no matter where you go. One boy,pletely naked, was energetically gesturing and recounting the story, his private parts swinging around.

    A group of kids had gathered around, listening with amused expressions.

    ¡°It¡¯s strange. I was sure I got home after drinking that night. I saw a white butt and thought it was my wife¡¯s¡­¡±

    Whether it was true or not, his impression of the professor¡¯s serious voice and manner of speaking was hrious.

    ¡°Wahahahaha!¡±

    As expected, the kids burst intoughter. Some even rolled around on their beds, holding their stomachs.

    ¡°But, you know, I don¡¯t think it was just because he was drunk.¡±

    ¡°Then what?¡±

    ¡°He went in there on purpose.¡±

    ¡°Eww.¡±

    ¡°Is that for real? Should I go ask the professor?¡±

    Ricardt, lying upside down on the bed a little distance away, watched the kids chatter andugh with a smile on his face.

    Watching scenes like this always reminded him of his military days. It made him think that no matter where you gathered people, they were all the same.

    But suddenly, the lively chatter andughter of the kids died down. It was because the Ice gang had walked in.

    They weren¡¯t the type to bully others or cause trouble, but their presence alone had that effect. Especially since the so-called power shift had just urred, everyone was a bit more cautious.

    The issue was that Boribori wasing in from the opposite direction after hanging up theundry. With the kids gathered and chatting in the middle, they didn¡¯t see each other from afar, and Boribori and Ice ended up face to face.

    Ice, without saying a word, quietly looked down at the shorter Boribori. Then, for the first time, Ricardt heard his voice. Since they always whispered among themselves, Ricardt had never heard Ice¡¯s voice before.

    ¡°Move.¡±

    Contrary to his delicate appearance, his voice was deep and masculine.

    Boribori flinched in surprise and hurriedly tried to step aside but then hesitated. He then stopped moving and said,

    ¡°N-no. You move.¡±

    In the grand scheme of things, this might seem like nothing, but within the academy, this was the most serious situation that could happen. After all, kids have their own world with their own rules.

    When Boribori refused to move, Ice lifted his gaze and looked at Ricardt, who was lying on the top bunk a little distance away, watching them.

    There was no ring or anything like that. They just looked at each other. But since neither of them averted their gaze, the atmosphere became tense.

    A sense of tension filled the air, and as the seconds ticked by, the situation felt increasingly serious. The dormitory, which had been noisy just moments ago, became as quiet as a grave.

    Eventually, Ice broke eye contact first and stepped aside. For someone with no rank, a lower ss member.

    Boribori, now unsure what to do as Ice moved aside, awkwardly squeezed past on the opposite side, clinging to the wall. He lookedpletely dazed.

    Even to an onlooker, it was clear that Boribori¡¯s heart was racing.

    Even after reaching the spot next to Ricardt, Boribori had a dazed expression, as if trying to calm his pounding heart.

    Ricardt waited for Boribori to calm down before speaking, his voice devoid of any emotion.

    ¡°Bori.¡±

    ¡°Uh, yeah?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re my most precious friend. I like your innocence. It doesn¡¯t matter if you can¡¯t fight, and it doesn¡¯t matter whether you¡¯re helpful to me or not. But rules are rules. From now on, you step aside.¡±

    His words sounded gentle, but they were firm. And they carried a certain charisma.

    While Ricardt didn¡¯t judge people based on their rank, he believed that order and rules were important in group life.

    Since the dormitory was so quiet, everyone could hear Ricardt¡¯s words. The students at the academy finally had it clearly ingrained in their minds. Power had shifted, and Ricardt was number one.

    ¡°¡­Okay¡­¡±

    Boribori replied gloomily. Only then did Ricardt smile and say,

    ¡°Come here. Even though it¡¯s a henhouse, it¡¯s nice that we can stay close to each other, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°But you know, I saw you drawing on the ground the other day, and you were really good. Even if you don¡¯t have a talent for fighting, having a talent for drawing is enough. I¡¯m jealous of that.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. If I were good at drawing, I¡¯d probably draw my mother so I could see her often.¡±

    ¡°Should I draw her for you?¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯ve never seen my mother.¡±

    ¡°You can just tell me her features, and I can draw her. After all, it¡¯s best to make people look beautiful in drawings. Even if someone isn¡¯t good-looking in real life, they can be cool and pretty in the picture. Everyone likes that.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡±

    It sounded a bit strange, but in a way, it made sense. It was oddly convincing.

    As Ricardt and Boribori began chatting softly, the sound of other friends talking from their beds started to fill the room as well. And before they knew it, the sound of rain began to fall outside.

    In any case, the kids started to wonder what would have happened if Ice hadn¡¯t stepped aside.

 Chapter 21

    Chapter 21

    Trantor: Willia

    ¡°First of all, those with low intelligence can¡¯t handle mana.¡±

    The meditation ss professor dered this with absolute certainty from his very first words.

    His face showed clear irritation. It seemed he couldn¡¯t even understand why he had to teach this ss. Maybe that¡¯s why his tone was quite aggressive.

    The stepped auditorium was filled with a considerable number of students, including Ricardt, who usually didn¡¯t attend sses much.

    The meditation ss was held only a few times a year, as the academy had learned from experience that those who could feel mana would naturally sense it quickly, while those who couldn¡¯t, would never manage it no matter what.

    ¡°Whether you¡¯re a man or a woman, a noble or a bastard, handsome or ugly, tall or short, those things don¡¯t matter at all when ites to handling mana. But if you can¡¯t even grasp basic concepts, there¡¯s no hope for you, so you might as well skip my ss.¡±

    In an era where the right to education wasn¡¯t properly guaranteed, or rather, where the concept of an educational system didn¡¯t even really exist, many studentscked basic vocabry skills.

    Because of that, the kids were rtively good at physical activities, but most of them couldn¡¯t stand sitting still and listening to a one-sided lecture.

    They would rather climb up and down cliff stairs a hundred times a day than endure a one-hour ss sitting still.

    As expected, the 100 or so students attending the ss all had dumbfounded expressions. It was clear to see that they wanted to leave at any moment.

    Seeing this, the professor¡¯s already frowning face grew even more scrunched up.

    ¡°Those who can do it will get it quickly, and those who can¡¯t will never get it, so there¡¯s no point in dragging this out or holding multiple sses. So, I¡¯ll only say this once today. Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡±

    The students answered energetically, though their expressions were still dull. But really, there wasn¡¯t any proper curriculum, and it was all up to the professor¡¯s whims.

    ¡°First, get asfortable as possible. You can sit or lie down. Spread out widely.¡±

    The students did as they were told, and so did Ricardt and Boribori. Ricardt leaned back and took a half-reclining position against the wall.

    ¡°Close your eyes. But don¡¯t fall asleep. Imagine closing off all your senses with your eyes closed. Even the surrounding sounds and smells. Focus only on my voice. We¡¯re starting now. Take a deep breath in and out. Feel the air entering your body. And slowly, even out your breathing. Rxpletely.¡±

    As they followed his instructions, the students soon began to feel drowsy. Light streamed in through several small windows that resembled arrow slits, and with the weather now quite warm, it made them naturally feel sleepy.

    The professor knew that eight out of ten of these kids would end up falling asleep anyway. So, even though it hurt his pride every time he taught, he reluctantly did it, since it was technically an assignment.

    ¡°From now on, don¡¯t think about anything. But you won¡¯t be able to. Thoughts will keep rising up. Let them be. Then, observe where those thoughts begin. Keep observing. But even then, you probably won¡¯t find the starting point. This requires practice. If you keep doing it, you¡¯ll realize that the origin of your thoughts is empty. There¡¯s nothing there. Now, this is important. Imagine filling that empty space with your breath. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale¡­ Most of the breath wille in and out, but think of leaving a little bit behind with each breath. Let that remaining breath move through your veins, stay in your muscles, settle into your bones, and then circte through your veins again. Repeat this process.¡±

    It was a type of meditation that was simple yet difficult to master. What did it mean to leave something behind? Was it even possible to leave behind breath? It was actually hard to understand.

    Even if he didn¡¯t fully grasp it, Ricardt still tried to follow the professor¡¯s instructions.

    He tried to observe the origin of his thoughts, or even before that, to feel the inhaling and exhaling of his breath as much as possible, and to imagine that breath moving through his blood vessels.

    At some point, the professor¡¯s voice began to fade away, eventually bing inaudible. Even the sounds of students snoring around him disappeared.

    It felt like being submerged underwater. Should he go deeper? How much deeper? Was there an end to this? What if he couldn¡¯te back?

    It was a strange experience of feeling bothfort and fear simultaneously.

    He was sinking. Sinking. Or was he slowly falling? Or maybe rising? Where was up, and where was down?

    Then suddenly, in the midst of the abyss, stars bloomed in abundance. Ricardt found himself standing in the Heiden Fields.

    And a short distance away, he saw Ricky, who was sitting in the field, gazing up at the star-filled night sky, who appeared to be his age now.

    Seeing that pitiful back view, an indescribable emotion welled up inside him, and tears began to rise.

    That time when he desired nothing in particr, knew nothing of boredom, happiness, or misery.

    Yes, there was a time like that for me too. Did I really need parents? Why did I need familial love? Isn¡¯t love just another name for the most cruel curse?

    But then why did I have to endure such immense pain, sorrow, and betrayal? What did I do wrong? Who is supposed to save whom? Wasn¡¯t that very Ricky the most pitiful being?

    As these thoughts, like the whisperings of a demon, continued, emotions beyond his control began to surge wildly. Injustice, fury, disappointmentced with curses, and despair.

    Overwhelmed by a flood of emotions, Ricardt finally let the tears that had been welling up flow down his cheeks.

    As he cried, the night sky shifted, and the stars trembled. And at the same time, the most destructive words, a deration of war against the world, came to mind.

    ¡­¡­Now, I don¡¯t care about anything. Let everyone die.

    At that moment, Ricky, who had been gazing up at the starry night sky, turned to look at Ricardt. He spoke calmly.

    ¡°It¡¯s all in the past, Ricky. It¡¯s not the pain that¡¯s tormenting you; it¡¯s you who¡¯s holding onto the pain.¡±

    Upon hearing those words, the boiling emotions subsided as if by magic, and it felt as though all his strength was draining away. It was closer to emptiness than salvation.

    And then, someone pulled Ricardt out of the abyss.

    ¡°Ricky. Ricky.¡±

    Ricardt felt his body being shaken and his hearing returning. When he opened his eyes, he saw the pitch-ck auditorium. At some point, night had fallen.

    It was dark all around, but his eyes had already adjusted, and he could see the surroundings in the moonlight streaming in through the windows.

    ¡°Ricky, if you sleep in the cold, your face will get stiff. Let¡¯s go back to the dorm to sleep.¡±

    Boribori said.

    ¡°Did I fall asleep?¡±

    It felt like only a brief moment had passed, but in reality, several hours had flown by, leaving Ricardt momentarily confused.

    ¡°Yeah. You were sleeping so soundly that I waited until now, but since you wouldn¡¯t wake up, so I had to wake you. You must¡¯ve been really tired?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that¡­¡±

    Just then, a snoring sound came from behind him. It was Volka, who was sleeping with his arms crossed and leaning back. He hadn¡¯t attended the ss today, yet here he was. When did hee?

    ¡°Kreueoek! Pyuuuu¡­¡­ Kreueoek! Pyuuuu¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°Looks like someone else is the tired one. By the way, what happened with the ss?¡±

    ¡°Most of the kids were sleeping. The professor exined a bit about something called Mana Drive, and that was it.¡±

    Ricardt sat there in a daze for a moment. As he regained his sense of reality, a sense of calm returned.

    Memories from Stormhertz, the things he experienced while on his journey, and everything he had gone through sinceing here shed through his mind and were absorbed into his identity.

    ¡°¡­So, did you feel anything? This thing called mana.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    When Boribori answered so easily, Ricardt¡¯s eyes widened. I don¡¯t feel anything though.

    ¡°Really? You¡¯re not lying?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s just about breathing and imagining, right? The professor said I¡¯m the first one to sense it this quickly.¡±

    If the professor acknowledged it, then it must be real. Yet, Ricardt couldn¡¯t feel anything at the moment. Do I just need more time? While he wasn¡¯t particrly obsessed with mana, he did feel a slight tinge of disappointment.

    ¡°He said to keep meditating steadily and not neglect training. Feeling mana is just the beginning. umting and utilizing it is what the Mana Drive is about. And don¡¯t getcent.¡±

    The professor¡¯s way of speaking might have been a bit harsh, but it seemed he was teaching properly.

    ¡°Did anyone else besides you feel the mana?¡±

    ¡°The high-ranking kids already knew about it. Other than them, no one. Just me. Did you feel anything, Ricky?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I don¡¯t think so.¡±

    Boribori smiled brightly and said,

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. There¡¯s no need to rush.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but¡­¡±

    Ricardt then shook Volka, who was still snoring.

    ¡°Volka, Volka. Wake up.¡±

    ¡°Kreueoek! Huk! Euk! Huh? Uh¡­¡­ smack smack¡­¡­¡±

    Volka jolted awake, smacking his lips with his eyes half-open. He must have been in a pretty deep sleep even in that position.

    ¡°Volka, you said you had something to tell Ricky,¡±

    Boribori said.

    ¡°Uh¡­ oh, right.¡±

    ¡°What do you need to say?¡±

    ¡°Well, Mr. Dunkel said he needs some kids. Capable ones. So I was going to ask you, Ricky.¡±

    ¡°Why does he need them?¡±

    ¡°Apparently, there¡¯s a request that came into the guild, but they¡¯re short on people. You haven¡¯t been at the academy long, but you¡¯re the strongest, right? Plus, you¡¯ve got some money.¡±

    Having money meant he could afford equipment, as the guild didn¡¯t provide gear to adventurers or students. Everyone had to purchase their equipment out of pocket, and even the army worked that way.

    That¡¯s how things were in that era. You had to buy your own equipment with your own money to go risk your life fighting. But in return, it also guaranteed a certain social status.

    Of course, the guild sometimes lent money to affiliated adventurers, but that wasn¡¯t really a good choice. If you borrowed money carelessly, it could ruin your life. The guild wasn¡¯t a charity.

    ¡°What¡¯s the request?¡±

    ¡°Something about deserters, I think. It seems like a mercenary group made the request. I guess it¡¯s not something they can handle on their own.¡±

    Desertion has always been one of the most severely punished crimes in any military, in any culture, throughout history.

    Yet, it happened very frequently. The risk to one¡¯s life was one thing, but the battlefield presented many hardships that were almost unbearable for a human to endure.

    Especially after a defeat, desertions would ur on a massive scale, often to the point where even emperors or kings couldn¡¯t manage the situation.

    Ricardt knew this well from experience.

    ¡°Is it dangerous?¡±

    ¡°Is there any request that isn¡¯t?¡±

    Ricardt recalled something Arno had once said¡ªhow academy students were being used in guild rivalries and were dying as a result.

    ¡°They said the pay is good, and it will count towards your rank after graduation. If youplete the request, you¡¯ll be considered for the intermediate rank, and if you perform exceptionally, they¡¯ll even consider you for the advanced rank.¡±

    ¡°If I survive, that is.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. If you survive. So, are you going to do it?¡±

    Ricardt thought for a moment. Should he do it or not? It didn¡¯t take long for him to decide that he should.

    The reason being, no matter how long he waited, the professor for the ancientnguage ss didn¡¯t seem like they were ever going to show up. He had even tried pestering old man Dunkel, but it wasn¡¯t like Dunkel had the authority to appoint a professor.

    As far as Ricardt knew, there wasn¡¯t anyone else connected to the ¡®real¡¯ headquarters, and as a student, there wasn¡¯t much else he could do.

    So, the only option was to be an expert and take the final exam to ess the Codex, although he wasn¡¯t overly fixated on it yet, he figured there was no harm in advancing his rank.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    ¡°Can I go too?¡±

    Boribori asked as soon as Ricardt gave his answer.

    ¡°No. You stay here.¡±

    Ricardt cut him off sharply. Regardless of mana or anything else, basic skills were essential for making a real impact. Boribori still didn¡¯t have any rank. What would he even do if he came along? Carry luggage?

    Even if one had innate talent for sensing mana, what meaning did it have if they couldn¡¯t fight? In the end, both aspects needed to go hand in hand to be useful.

    For now, the art of handling mana wasn¡¯t that advanced. They were just starting to take baby steps towards the star called Sword Master.

    Volka roughly ruffled Boribori¡¯s head as he sulked and said,

    ¡°Hey, why are you sulking again? I still can¡¯t feel mana either. Instead of learning from Ricky, how about you attend the sses? Competing with others at your level will help you improve.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go. It¡¯s cold. Is it the ce that¡¯s cold, or is it the weather still being chilly? Oh, right. The Ice Gang is participating too. Just so you know.¡±

    Volka said as he stood up. Ricardt and Boribori also stood up and left the dim auditorium.

    Before exiting the auditorium, Ricardt suddenly looked back. He had a strange feeling that someone might be sitting there. But there was nothing, just the soft moonlight filling the thick darkness, and no one was there.

    The next day, Ricardt headed into the city. The sky had been gloomy since morning, and eventually, it started to rain. He pulled up the hood attached to his cloak and walked through the rain, hearing the steady drip-drip of the raindrops.

    Fortunately, the road, despite being wet, wasn¡¯t too muddy and remained rtively firm.

    The rain wasn¡¯t heavy, but the wind was strong. The hood of his cloak kept getting blown off, so he eventually decided not to wear it.

    After walking for about five hours, he reached the guild headquarters and dried his wet hair and body as much as he could by the firece.

    Then he headed to the cksmith¡¯s shop. Molty, who was hard at work as usual, recognized Ricardt and approached him.

    ¡°What brings you here?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here to buy a sword.¡±

    Ricardt opened his coin pouch and showed it. There were one or two gold coins and several silver coins inside. It was what he had left after spending money on living expenses.

    ¡°Wait a moment.¡±

    Molty left Ricardt standing there and went to speak with the cksmith, who was sharpening a sword on a grindstone. Pointing in Ricardt¡¯s direction, it seemed like he was exining what Ricardt needed.

    The cksmith, with his thick, bushy beard, turned to give Ricardt a long look. When he stood up, he was indeed very tall and broad-shouldered, making him seem like a powerful weapon in his own right.

    Without saying a word, he gestured for Ricardt to follow him. Ricardt followed him into a storage building attached to the side of the cksmith¡¯s shop.

    It was a cool ce, with several long wooden crates neatly arranged. The sound of raindrops tapping on the roof was pleasant to hear.

    The cksmith opened the lids of the crates one by one, revealing smooth swords of various widths and lengths, all without scabbards.

    ¡°Choose what you want.¡±

    Ricardt alternated between looking at the cksmith and the swords, then began to carefully examine them as instructed. He eventually stopped in front of a longsword that looked a bit long andrge for him to handle.

    It was forged with the unique technique of the Nords, with a subtle wavy pattern running along the de. The base of the de, known as the ricasso, was wrapped in leather, allowing it to be gripped like a short spear if needed.

    ¡°This one. May I touch it?¡±

    The cksmith nodded silently. Ricardt held the sword in his hand, checking the bnce, the thickness of the de, and whether the edge was straight.

    It was a masterpiece without a single w. However, as expected, it felt a bit heavy.

    But since he had used a greatsword in his previous life, this weight actually felt more familiar in his hand.

    The cksmith watched Ricardt as he examined the sword, his expression indifferent. However, strangely enough, the sword seemed to suit Ricardt perfectly. The cksmith got a feeling simr to when a renowned master handles a sword.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take this one. How much is it?¡±

    Ricardt asked, taking out his coin pouch. But in reality, the money he had was far from enough.

    A weapon made from high-quality steel by a skilled Nord cksmith was worth at least five gold coins. If taken to another region, its price would increase several times over.

    Especially the sword Ricardt had chosen¡ªit was made from meteoric iron, one of the most expensive metals that humans could handle.

    In other words, it wasn¡¯t something that could be bought with just a few gold coins, but rather something that should be won at an auction.

    Fortunately, the cksmith shook his head.

    ¡°A hero needs a weapon befitting them. Your glorious achievements in the future will serve as payment instead.¡±

    Ricardt¡¯s eyes widened at the word ¡®hero¡¯, wondering what he meant.

    ¡°A hero? Me?¡±

    ¡°I heard from Molty. You¡¯re the one who risked your life to duel those punks.¡±

    It seemed the cksmith was referring to the fight Ricardt had with the higher-ranked students over the extortion money.

    Before Ricardt had subdued them, those students had been causing all sorts of trouble, even if they weren¡¯t openly terrorizing others. They would intimidate iron ore suppliers to extort money, cheat brothel owners, or run up tabs at taverns and never pay.

    They were causing problems all over, not just bullying other students and taking their money.

    But since Ricardt put a stop to them, not only the academy students but also the city¡¯s merchants and craftsmen, in effect, be indebted to Ricardt to some extent.

    Isn¡¯t someone who defeats such viins a hero? But Ricardt, the person in question, only felt awkward.

    So, with an embarrassed smile, he said,

    ¡°They were just small fry, I didn¡¯t really risk my life or anything.¡±

    The cksmith received the sword back, sheathed it, adjusted the leather strap, and then handed it back to Ricardt.

    ¡°Well, whatever. Take it.¡±

    And just like that, Ricardt obtained the sword for free. But considering the cksmith felt he owed Ricardt a debt, perhaps it wasn¡¯t exactly free.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Despite everything, Ricardt didn¡¯t forget to express his gratitude. He also thanked Molty before leaving the cksmith¡¯s shop. Since the sword was too long and heavy to wear at his waist, he slung it over one shoulder.

    But he couldn¡¯t shake off the awkwardness of being called a hero. It was more embarrassing than he had expected.

    The people back home said I was gentle and kind, but in truth, I¡¯m not that good of a person.

    Ricardt walked through the rain, feeling the droplets falling on him. Yet, despite being rained on, his mood wasn¡¯t all that bad.

 Chapter 22

    Chapter 22

    Trantor: Willia

    When engaging in outdoor activities like war or hunting, there were a few essential items one needed. One of them was gloves, and the other was sturdy shoes.

    This was because if you lifted heavy objects or handled rough materials without gloves, it wasmon for your hands to get scraped or your nails to peel off.

    The reason sturdy shoes were necessary was that there was nothing more troublesome in the field than getting a hole in your shoes during a field operation. After all, it wasn¡¯t like you could easily find a new pair right away.

    Therefore, shoes made of tough leather and with strong soles that could withstand rough terrain were crucial.

    Additionally, it was important to have a coat or a cloak in case of sleeping outdoors. As for food, since this wasn¡¯t a real war, just bringing along a few personal necessities should suffice.

    This was the content that Volka borately exined in front of several people.

    But since everyone already knew this, they were rather uninterested. Consequently, Volka also wore a deted expression.

    ¡°¡­Ah, and a dagger is essential too. You need it for all sorts of things. Ricky, you already have a dagger, so you¡¯re good¡­ Anything else to add?¡±

    A dagger wasn¡¯t just useful as a weapon; it was also a tool used frequently in everyday life. The difference between having one and not having one was significant.

    Ricardt, who was quietly listening to Volka¡¯s exnation while wearing the new gloves and boots, thought that the preparations hadn¡¯t really changed muchpared to a hundred years ago.

    In fact, when it came to these aspects, Ricardt knew better than Volka, who was still inexperienced.

    Even so, Volka was the leader. No matter how close a friend he was, Ricardt believed that in public settings, it was important to respect his position and authority, so he didn¡¯t interrupt, add to, or interfere with Volka¡¯s words.

    The total number of students participating in the currentmission was 14. Ricardt, Volka, Molty, four female students he didn¡¯t know, two male students, and five members of the Ice¡¯s gang.

    Just as the Adventurers¡¯ Guild wasposed of various ns, these students naturally divided into three groups.

    Ricardt, Volka, and Molty formed one group, the four female students and two male students formed another group, and Ice¡¯s gang made up thest group.

    Still, on the surface, they were one team supported by the Academy.

    ¡°So what¡¯s the content of themission?¡±

    One of the unfamiliar male students asked Volka with a grumpy face. He used to be one of the students who received tribute money before, but now he was keeping low profile.

    The students generally epted the results of a contest well, so there hadn¡¯t been any particr trouble or resistance. After all, everyone knew the value of life, even without being taught.

    ¡°As I told you before, it¡¯s just about taking the heads of some deserters. There seem to be quite a few deserters. But we¡¯re just support, so first, we need to join the Yakt n. The rendezvous point is our guild¡¯s hideout on the outskirts of Griffinswald. Does anyone know where Griffinswald is?¡±

    Two or three people raised their hands. Since Volka wasn¡¯t asking because he didn¡¯t know, he exined for those who didn¡¯t know.

    ¡°It¡¯s not too far from here. About a two-day walk to the southeast. If we march quickly, we can get there in a day, but we still have a week before the rendezvous, so we have some time. I¡¯d like to leave tomorrow or the day after. Anyone have a different opinion?¡±

    Volka certainly had leadership qualities. Leadership came in many forms, and in Volka¡¯s case, he seemed to be the type who actively listened to the opinions of his members.

    After gathering opinions, he would set a goal that everyone could agree on, allowing the members to follow voluntarily. It was good leadership. After all, even coercive or forceful methods were a form of leadership.

    However, no one really voiced their opinions. It was because everyone was still a bit awkward with each other.

    Then Volka looked at Ice and asked.

    ¡°Ice, don¡¯t you have anything to say?¡±

    Ice just shook his head. But the female students looking at him had dreamy expressions. He was that unrealistically handsome.

    And the four students who hung out with him were also remarkably handsome boys.

    As usual, Ice remained silent, prompting Ricardt to ask.

    ¡°By the way, I¡¯m curious. How did you end up bing the number one ranked student?¡±

    When Ricardt, currently ranked number one, asked this question, the atmosphere became awkward in an unintended way. This was because the two had never actually fought each other.

    Ice looked at Ricardt for a moment before answering.

    ¡°Just because.¡±

    ¡°By the way, you¡¯re really good-looking. Are you perhaps a descendant of an elf or something?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    His answers continued to be brief.

    ¡°Do you not want to talk to me?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    Ice turned his head and closed his mouth as if he didn¡¯t want to continue the conversation any further.

    What could Ricardt do if Ice didn¡¯t want to talk? While Ricardt didn¡¯t particrly feel bad, there was something else that bothered him.

    The reason Ricardt had bothered to start a conversation was that he believed that since they were about to engage in something simr to a military operation, they needed to have a certain level of camaraderie.

    After all, they were in a profession that involved handling weapons and risking their lives, so they needed to be able to trust each other in all sorts of emergency situations.

    In such situations, there wouldn¡¯t be time to think and make judgments. They would have to trust each other and charge ahead or escape together if necessary.

    However, aside from the fact that they were all students from the same academy, Ricardt had no other connection to Ice¡¯s group, so he couldn¡¯t tell if he could trust them or not.

    If he knew in advance that they couldn¡¯t be trusted, he could at least keep his guard up, but Ice¡¯s group remained a mystery.

    Volka seemed to understand why Ricardt had tried to talk to them, as he quietly observed Ice and his group before speaking.

    ¡°They¡¯ll handle themselves. So, let¡¯s n to leave tomorrow.¡±

    Once the decision was made, Ice and his group left without looking back. The other students also dispersed.

    Only Ricardt, Volka, and Molty remained behind. The three of them wandered around the city, purchasing various necessities like potions, herbs, bandages, and travel rations.

    They had to buy these items with their own money, and Ricardt ended up covering most of the expenses. As a result, he was left with almost no money.

    The next day, Ricardt left the academy and headed toward the ce called Griffinswald.

    Molty carried the luggage, and his backpack was sorge that it covered his broad back entirely. The weapons he used were a one-handed axe and a shield. His helmet and round shield were strapped securely to his backpack.

    Since they might have to camp out, all the students wore cloaks, concealing their gear to prevent others from seeing their equipment.

    All five members of the Ice¡¯s gang were wearing pitch-ck cloaks. They looked like some death knight order from a fairy tale.

    The other students also wore dark-colored or deep brown cloaks, but Ricardt¡¯s bright red cloak made him stand out.

    Even though the weather was a bit warm, the students wore thick coats because these served as a substitute for armor.

    Weapons, armor, and horses could be incredibly expensive. Metal armor was still something they could only dream of, and helmets were as expensive as armor because, while they required less metal, they demanded advanced forging skills.

    So, what was often worn for both daily use andbat was a padded outer garment called a gambeson. Unless you were a knight or a wealthy mercenary, most people wore this.

    Only Molty was the only one carrying a helmet, but he hadn¡¯t bought it because he had money. It was a gift from the cksmiths at the forge, who wished him good luck.

    In any case, the academy students were as well-prepared as they could be and set out to support the adventurers.

    Volka, as the leader of the reinforcements, led the way, the other students followed in the middle, and Ice¡¯s gang followed at the rear. They didn¡¯t deliberately arrange themselves this way; it just naturally happened.

    Ricardt walked down a road that stretched southeast, different from the one he had taken with Sandy.

    The road he had taken with Sandy was a main road, so it had better security, but the road stretching southeast looked ominous from the start.

    Along the roadside, old bones could be seen in the grass. They didn¡¯t seem to be animal bones but rather human shinbones. Once again, he hade out into a world where death was close at hand.

    However, perhaps because the group had been selected from the upper ranks, no one seemed frightened by the sight. They just kept walking silently.

    After setting out in the morning, by midday, the path led into a forest. The group entered the forest, and it was a peaceful ce with the sound of birds chirping. At least on the surface.

    Since Beringen was a frontier region, the forest wasn¡¯t entirely safe. If they were unlucky, monsters could appear at any moment.

    Everyone walked while being cautious of their surroundings in their own way. Fortunately, nothing particr happened until sunset.

    As night fell, the group lit fires at a suitable campsite that seemed frequently used by travelers. There were three fires in total, and the three groups of students sat slightly apart from each other.

    It felt like they were a group, but not really a group.

    Ricardt used the dagger he had used many times to break opponents¡¯ swords and kill people to cut slices of ham and cheese. Then, he called out to the female students.

    ¡°Hey. You.¡±

    The female students looked back at Ricardt but didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°Do you guys have a ranking system too?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    One of the female students replied.

    ¡°Then?¡±

    ¡°We have sses. It¡¯s a bitplicated, but broadly speaking, there are maidservants, handmaidens,dies, and princesses. Maidservants and below only serve, they don¡¯t train. Training is fordies and princesses only.¡±

    It was utterly childish. What were they talking aboutdies and princesses¡ªwhen they were justmoners or illegitimate children? Of course, Ricardt didn¡¯t particrly care about that.

    ¡°So, are you guys princesses ordies?¡±

    ¡°None of us are princesses.¡±

    ¡°Did they stay back at the academy?¡±

    ¡°No. They died. They participated in amission like this one and didn¡¯t survive. If we make it back safely, we¡¯ll probably be princesses.¡±

    Even the girls were ruthless. So, that meant there hadn¡¯t been a princess among them for a while. In the case of the male students, if someone above them was gone, they would automatically move up in rank, but that wasn¡¯t the case for the girls.

    ¡°What happens if you be a princess?¡±

    ¡°Just that it feels the best? Our dorm is divided into five rooms, unlike yours. The princess is like the top of each room. You can do whatever you want in the dorm, you¡¯re the nicest, the prettiest, the strongest¡ªit¡¯s all about being the best.¡±

    ¡°¡­That¡¯s ridiculous.¡±

    Volka muttered as he cut a baked potato with his knife. He knew this kind of stuff because he had dated a female student before, but hearing it again, it was still absurd.

    ¡°So, the maidservants and handmaidens just serve others until they graduate?¡±

    ¡°If they¡¯re lucky, they can keep serving even after they graduate.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­Lucky? That¡¯s considered lucky?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. What else are they going to do to survive? They¡¯re ugly, they have no skills, and they¡¯ve already been abandoned by their families. They have nowhere to go.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I suppose that¡¯s true.¡±

    It was a bitter reality. Ricardt felt sorry for them but didn¡¯t think there was anything he could do.

    Teaching them swordsmanship wouldn¡¯t make them good at it, and he wasn¡¯t about to marry all of them and take responsibility for their lives.

    ¡°By the way, aren¡¯t you interested in girls? Or is it because you¡¯re still young? How old are you?¡±

    One of the female students asked.

    ¡°Eleven.¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯re about the right age to start being curious.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, but I don¡¯t believe in things like love.¡±

    At Ricardt¡¯s words, the girls widened their eyes before bursting intoughter.

    ¡°We don¡¯t believe in it either!¡±

    Ricardtughed awkwardly.

    ¡°Haha¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t talk to bitches like that. You need to be a bit tougher. Ricky, no matter how good you are at fighting, you might get eaten alive without even realizing it, you know?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯ll be careful.¡±

    Ricardtughed awkwardly again at Volka¡¯s words. He wasn¡¯t offended. But didn¡¯t Volka used to date a female student himself?

    Still, it was true that these girls seemed to have strong personalities. It wasn¡¯t likely that girls who trained in swordsmanship andbat would be just ordinary.

    Sure enough, even the boys who hung around with them seemed a bit intimidated.

    By the way, the female students were incredibly pretty, at least when it came to their appearance. There was amon saying that bastards tended to be good-looking.

    This was because if someone was going to have an affair, they would do it with someone attractive, not just anyone.

    It seemed that there was some truth to this saying. Many of the bastards from noble families had mothers who were high-ss courtesans.

    ¡°By the way, shouldn¡¯t we set up a night watch?¡±

    Molty suggested.

    ¡°Since we have a lot of people, how about choosing six? Two from each group.¡±

    Ricardt offered his opinion. Volka nodded in agreement, and no one, including Ice¡¯s group, had any objections. So, they decided to pick two people from each group to take turns on watch.

    Taking or standing watch meant that you were protecting and trusting one another. In this way, they were gradually beginning to grow closer.

    They spent the night like that and set out for the rendezvous point early the next morning. Perhaps because the first day had passed without incident, everyone seemed a bit more rxed.

    Ricardt carried the sword, which wasrge for him, slung over one shoulder and walked alongside Volka.

    However, even after starting yesterday and walking through the afternoon today, the forest path didn¡¯t end. This was because Griffinswald itself was a vige located in the forest.

    Just as Ricardt thought they should be encountering locals like herbalists or hunters soon, something caught his eye.

    At first nce, it seemed like a bush swaying in the wind, but to Ricardt, it felt unnaturally ced.

    ¡°Volka.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    Ricardt called out to Volka and gestured with his chin towards the suspicious spot. Volka looked in that direction, and soon the other students also focused their attention there.

    At first nce, there didn¡¯t seem to be anything strange, but since Ricardt had pointed it out, it now looked oddly dangerous.

    The procession came to a halt, and everyone started surveying the surroundings with wary eyes. Then, from the exact spot Ricardt had suspected, someone suddenly stood up and hurled a spear.

    Whoosh!

    Simultaneously, people who had been hiding on the opposite side of the road revealed themselves.

    Rustle! Rustle! Rustle rustle rustle!

    The sound of the grass being disturbed indicated that it wasn¡¯t just one or two people. It was an ambush. The only silver lining was that it wasn¡¯t monsters, but whether it was monsters or humans, the intent to kill was clear.

    ¡°Who the hell are you?!¡±

    The students, caught off guard, were thrown into disarray.

    Even though they were among the top ranks at the academy, they were so startled by the sudden attack that they couldn¡¯t even draw their weapons quickly. They were simply too shocked and flustered to know what to do.

    ¡°Ahhh!¡±

    A scream from one of the female students rang out. At this point, the students started fighting desperately against the unknown assants.

    All the training they had undergone seemed to vanish as they fought almost recklessly using brute force, but at least they didn¡¯t run away, which wasmendable.

    Of course, surviving was more important than receiving any praise.

    One of the attackers quickly approached Ricardt, attempting to stab him with a sword. Ricardt instinctively twisted his body to dodge, grabbed the sword slung over his shoulder, and struck the attacker¡¯s chin with the pommel.

    Ughk!

    The attacker¡¯s head snapped back, and he copsed to the ground. Without even checking on him, Ricardt drew his sword and tossed aside the scabbard carelessly.

    He then dashed toward the female student he had spoken to the night before. She had managed to fend off attacks but was now in a dangerous position, having fallen on her backside.

    Someone raised their sword high to strike her down, and all she could do was lift her own sword like a stick to block it. But if things continued this way, the force of the descending de would shatter her defense, and her head would be split open.

    Whoosh!

    ng!

    In the nick of time, Ricardt leaped in and deflected the attacker¡¯s sword. Gripping the ricasso¡ªthe base of the de¡ªlike a short spear, he swiftly thrust it into the enemy¡¯s abdomen.

    When he pulled the sword out, blood gushed from the wound, and the enemy dropped to his knees with wide eyes.

    ¡°Shit¡­¡­¡±

    Ricardt¡¯s de was drenched in blood. He shouted at the female student, as if angered.

    ¡°Get up!¡±

    It wasn¡¯t the time for kind words. The shing of des could be heard all around them, filling the air with chaos.

    Ricardt quickly scanned the surroundings, instantly assessing the number of enemies. There were more than thirty of them. Far too many.

    ¡°Volka!¡±

    The enemies were so numerous and entangled that Ricardt couldn¡¯t see Volka clearly. But he could hear shouts that indicated Volka was still alive.

    ¡°Ricky!¡±

    Ricardt dashed toward the sound.

    In the chaos of battle, the enemies also weren¡¯t perfectly coordinated. Amid the confusion, Ricardt realized that these attackers were definitely not mere bandits.

    But regardless of who they were, the first thing they needed to do was regroup. They couldn¡¯t keep fighting like this. If the battle dragged on, they would all be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

    Rather than trying to kill the enemies, Ricardt focused on cutting and stabbing his way through, creating a path. Screams echoed all around, and people shouted names, though it was impossible to tell who was who.

    Ricardt quickly reached the area where Volka was. Volka¡¯s face was flushed, and he was holding a sword that wasn¡¯t even his own. That sword was bent out of shape.

    Molty, weaponless, had grabbed his shield with both hands and was using hisrge frame to bash and shove enemies away.

    However, blood was flowing steadily from Molty¡¯s side. He had been hit by one of the spears the enemies had thrown at the beginning of the ambush.

    ¡°This way!¡±

    Ricardt shouted. Instinctively, he aimed to break through the weakest part of the enemy line.

    Of course, the enemies tried to block him, but Ricardt abruptly halted, then swung his sword in a wide arc, seizing the perfect moment.

    Whoosh!

    ng! Crack!

    With a sound like the air itself being sliced, the weapons of three enemies shattered like dried cornstalks.

    The enemies, shocked by what had just happened, hesitated, and Ricardt used that momentum to charge forward, forcing them to retreat.

    In that brief opening, Ricardt cleared a path and led Volka and Molty to safety.

    ¡°Over here!¡±

    Volka and Molty, caught up in the frenzy of battle, didn¡¯t have time to think. They simply followed Ricardt¡¯s voice, moving as he directed. The other students followed in a rush.

    Ricardt, however, stayed behind, fending off the pursuing enemies until they were finally driven back. Only then did he follow the students.

    They sprinted through the forest, running blindly, unsure of where they were going. Eventually, they found their way to the spot where Volka and Molty had taken refuge.

    The other students who had fled earlier were already there. The female students¡¯ hair was in disarray, and the male students looked dazed.

    Two members of Ice¡¯s gang were missing. When everyone was ounted for, there were only nine of them left. Originally, there had been fourteen.

    Ice, usuallyposed, now looked disheveled, his breathing ragged, and his pupils dted.

    Molty was leaning against a wall, panting heavily. He forced off his backpack and muttered,

    ¡°T¡­ take it.¡±

    Ricardt ignored Molty¡¯s words and sat down, pulling out a dagger. He tore through Molty¡¯s clothes to reveal the wound.

    In the rush, the spear had been pulled out, and the de wasn¡¯t visible. However, due to the barbed spearhead, the wound wasrge. Blood was gushing out.

    Ricardt pressed his hand against Molty¡¯s wound to staunch the bleeding. His hand was quickly soaked in blood.

    ¡°Potion. Get out the potion.¡±

    Ricardt ordered the other students. But one student¡¯s hands were shaking so badly that he couldn¡¯t even properly retrieve the potion from his bag.

    ¡°I said get it out quickly! You bastard!¡±

    Ricardt turned around and shouted fiercely like a wild beast. It was an old habit from his previous life¡ªduring critical situations, his nerves became razor-sharp.

    Volka was also trembling, but he couldn¡¯t stand to watch any longer. He snatched the bag from the student and pulled out the potion, handing it over.

    Ricardt poured water from a canteen over the wound to clean it, then uncorked the potion and poured it liberally over the injury. He made Molty drink the rest. The potion was worth a gold coin per bottle, but Ricardt used it all without hesitation.

    After that, Ricardt took out a needle and began stitching up the wound. He nearly emptied a whole jar of ointment, thering it over the injury, before wrapping it tightly with bandages.

    Everyone was struggling just to take care of themselves, yet Ricardt had broken through the enemy line on his own, covered their retreat, and now even handled treating the wounded, all by himself.

    After finishing the emergency treatment, he took a moment to catch his breath and looked at Molty. The blood loss was already severe, and it seemed impossible for Molty to keep fighting. Potions were meant for emergency care, not for instant recovery or miraculous healing.

    ¡°Huff, huff, huff¡­¡±

    ¡°Molty, it¡¯s okay. You¡¯ll live. That¡¯s good, right? Hang in there.¡±

    ¡°Huff, huff¡­ haha, hahaha¡­¡±

    Molty let out a weakugh, his face pale. He would survive if he could just rest and recover, but the problem was the approaching enemies.

    Before they could even worry about whether the other five students were dead or alive, the enemies were already heading their way. Suddenly, Ice got up, ready to leave.

    Ricardt¡¯s eyes widened as he asked,

    ¡°Where are you going?¡±

    ¡°Toplete themission.¡±

    ¡°Are you insane?¡±

    Ricardt frowned in disbelief, wondering what kind of person would act like this. It was the first time he had shown open hostility toward Ice.

    ¡°¡­¡±

    Ice looked at Ricardt for a moment, then simply turned and left. The other students hesitated, then followed after him.

    ¡°Sorry,¡±

    The female student Ricardt had saved said as she left. Was it supposed to be a relief that she at least apologized?

    Relief, my ass. Ricardt hadn¡¯t saved her to receive a thank you, but he certainly hadn¡¯t done it just to get an apology either.

    The frustrating part was that he couldn¡¯t exactly demand they risk their lives to fight for the injured. Ricardt stared at the retreating students with a bewildered expression.

    Volka, also in disbelief, watched the students abandoning them and muttered under his breath.

    ¡°Those fucking bastards¡­¡±

 Chapter 23

    Chapter 23

    Trantor: Willia

    Realbat situations were always the worst. There was never a day when things went smoothly. Someone always dies. Or they end up severely injured and permanently disabled.

    Therefore, assuming the best-case scenario was an impossible concept. One must always prepare for the worst. The countless, unimaginable worst-case scenarios.

    So, when faced with the worst situation, how should one respond?

    This wasn¡¯t something that could be learned through study. It was only possible through the experience of walking the line between life and death.

    Ricardt had that kind of experience. Countless times. Thinking about that made him feel a bit calmer. Because he had been through dozens of situations far worse than the current one.

    However, contrary to his mental calmness, his heart was beating so fast it felt like it might burst.

    Even though one gets used to the fear of death, for some reason, his heart always raced when faced with the worst situation. Why was that?

    It could be excitement, or it could be fear, or maybe it was both.

    One of his friends was severely injured, the rest of his allies had fled, and the only ones left to fight were him and one other friend.

    The more objectively Ricardt grasped the situation, the more his heart pounded as if it would burst.

    Ricardt¡¯s strengths were in one-on-onebat and ambushes. But now, the tables had turned, and they had been ambushed instead. It wasn¡¯t even one-on-one; they were outnumbered significantly.

    So, should he abandon the injured and flee? No. That wasn¡¯t a condition to consider; it was a goal. A goal he absolutely had to uphold.

    The answer was clear then. He had to defeat the enemy. To defeat them, he had to fight.

    Ricardt peeked out from his hiding spot, just enough to observe the approaching enemies. There were roughly more than ten of them, while the rest seemed to be searching other areas.

    Ricardt¡¯s mind began to work like a machine, rapidly formting, discarding, and modifying countless ns.

    ¡°Ricky¡­¡±

    Volka called out. When Ricardt turned to look at him, his expression was incredibly conflicted.

    We should flee. No, we should fight for our friend. But what if we die? No, we definitely will die. We need to run right now. Every second counts. Even now, even now¡­ No, absolutely not¡­

    All these inner conflicts were clearly written on his face. Ricardt firmly gripped Volka¡¯s shoulder with a resolute gaze.

    ¡°Stay and protect Molty.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Then, without another word, Ricardt grabbed his bloodstained sword and dashed out. Volka was so shocked that it felt like his heart would leap out of his chest. There was no time to stop him or even say anything.

    Volka knew Ricardt was exceptional for his age, but wasn¡¯t this going too far? He¡¯s going to get himself killed!

    Ricardt held the root of the de, the ricasso, and the hilt as he charged at the nearest enemy. The enemy, upon seeing Ricardt, quickly retreated.

    ¡°Over here!¡±

    And he shouted loudly to draw the attention of his allies.

    It takes two to tango, and with the enemy not engaging, Ricardt had no choice.

    But this was all within his expectations. He changed direction and charged straight towards someone else. It was the one who appeared to be the leader of the enemies.

    The most ssic method of reversing a disadvantageous situation was to kill the enemymander or leader. The problem was how to do it.

    Ricardt boldly plunged into the middle of the enemy formation. To kill the enemymander. Now, there was no turning back. The enemies began to surround Ricardt tightly. If he failed, only death awaited him.

    ¡°You little brat!¡±

    The enemymander gripped his sword with both hands and shed quickly at Ricardt. The sharpness of the strike suggested he hadn¡¯t won his position asmander by chance. However, Ricardt¡¯s gaze was frighteningly cold and calm.

    Ricardt¡¯s sword, neither too fast nor too slow, struck back at the enemy¡¯s attack.

    ng!

    But an unexpected result unfolded. He had intended to break the enemy¡¯s sword, but it didn¡¯t break. Was it some kind of legendary sword?

    No, it wasn¡¯t that. Rather, bluish mes, like those of a spirit, flickered at the point of impact. It seemed this person had achieved some kind of mastery through mana training.

    However, more than Ricardt being surprised, the enemy was even more shocked. He thought he could quickly take down the small-framed kid who had charged at him, but the unexpected counterattack left his wrist numb.

    With his wrist throbbing, it was difficult tounch the next strike. Ricardt didn¡¯t miss the opportunity and pressed his advantage.

    Releasing his grip on the ricasso, he grasped the hilt with both hands, raised the sword above his head, and swung it upwards. It wasn¡¯t a particrly fast attack.

    But the opponent, whose wrist was still stinging, wanted to avoid shing swords, so he took a small step back.

    However, Ricardt¡¯s previous attack wasn¡¯t really an attack at all. It was a feint. This was where his genius shone brightly.

    As if he had anticipated that his opponent would dodge, he took arge step forward. Even in an unexpected situation, he made an even bolder move. For the best result in the worst moment.

    Ricardt¡¯s arms crossed, and therge sword spun above his head. Using the centrifugal force and weight, he delivered a swift and heavy blow.

    At this moment, Ricardt swung his sword with all his might toward a single point, at a single timing. His abs and legs firmly supported his body, and his chest muscles tensed. His arms merely guided the path, with his will concentrated at the tip of the sword.

    The enemy, unable to dodge, was forced to raise his sword to block. Anticipating a heavy impact on his wrist again, he gritted his teeth to make sure he didn¡¯t lose his grip.

    How could this kid, wielding a sword sorge that it didn¡¯t even fit his build, handle it so skillfully?

    But the heavy impact he expected didn¡¯te. Because his sword broke.

    Cha-ang-!

    Instead of a simple spark, blue mes scattered like falling petals. It was strangely beautiful, considering the situation.

    Thwack!

    And Ricardt¡¯s sword continued on to strike the enemy¡¯s neck directly. His head shot up slightly and then dropped to the ground. Blood spurted like a fountain from the severed area, and the decapitated man fell to his knees.

    Ricardt kicked him in the chest. The finely sprayed blood sttered across his face and clothes.

    Ricardt held his sword with one hand. Since it wasrgepared to his body, the tip of the sword touched the ground.

    He nced at the enemies on his left, then at those on his right. They all wore expressions of utter disbelief. What just happened¡­?

    Everything from the first attack to this moment had urred in an instant. Suddenly, a young boy had jumped out, charged at their leader, exchanged just a few blows, and now the situation had turned into this.

    Breaking an enemy¡¯s sword by deflecting their attack was a highly difficult technique, but it was rtively easier than what Ricardt had just done. Breaking the enemy¡¯s sword byunching an attack first while they were defending was on apletely different level, almost close to divine skill.

    But the enemies weren¡¯t experienced enough to recognize that. They were simply overwhelmed by the shocking scene before them. Their leader, kneeling with his upper body leaning back, was headless. Blood gushed out continuously.

    ¡°Agh!¡±

    ¡°Eek!¡±

    When Ricardt yelled as if he was about to charge at them, they flinched in fright and fled. With their leader beheaded, there was no one left to scold or punish them, so they ran away without hesitation.

    Ricardt scanned the battlefield and looked around for his scabbard. Fortunately, it wasn¡¯t far away.

    Then, among the various corpses on the field, he found five bodies of students from Beringen Academy. There was no time to collect loot or recover their bodies. He could only close their wide-open eyes.

    That¡¯s when it happened.

    ¡°Cough. Kuh. Keuuk¡­¡­¡±

    There was someone still alive. But it was an enemy. One of his arms was mangled and dangling, and his abdomen had a deep, horizontal sh with his intestines spilling out.

    In that condition, he could suffer for up to three days. The worst part would be being eaten alive by wild animals.

    Ricardt approached him. The nameless enemy reached out with a trembling hand, looking up at Ricardt, as if asking to be saved or perhaps to be put out of his misery.

    Ricardt sat beside him, covering the man¡¯s eyes with his hand, and spoke.

    ¡°Just as you had no personal feelings, I have none either. Life is suffering, so I hope there is peace for you after death.¡±

    Instead of questioning or resenting why the man had tried to kill him, Ricardt just spoke calmly. Then, with a swift motion, he plunged his dagger into the man¡¯s throat, cutting through it to end his life quickly.

    ¡°Cough! Kuh! Keuuk!¡±

    The enemy convulsed briefly, but Ricardt¡¯s hand, covering his eyes, pressed down firmly. And soon the convulsions subsided.

    In the end, Ricardt also closed the eyes of the other dead enemies, one by one. After all, they were already dead now¡­

    Ricardt wiped the blood from his de on the enemy¡¯s corpse, sheathed it, and picked up a few abandoned swords lying on the ground before returning to Volka and Molty.

    However, the expression on Volka¡¯s face as he looked at Ricardt was even more extreme than that of the enemies. He stared at Ricardt with his mouth wide open, as if he were in shock.

    ¡°I was lucky.¡±

    Ricardt said.

    ¡°¡­¡­Lucky? That doesn¡¯t seem like a matter of luck.¡±

    Volka replied in disbelief. Ricardt simply ignored him and spoke inly.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have time. I¡¯ll carry the bag, Volka, you carry Molty on your back.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Oh¡­ but where are we going?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s probably safest to go to the rendezvous point for now.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡±

    They had rested for a night halfway to get there, so given the current situation, returning to the academy would be more dangerous.

    Molty was breathing shallowly, asleep. It was natural to feel drowsy after taking a potion, as the body rapidly healed its wounds.

    Ricardt slung the bag over his shoulder while still seated, then stood up. With the weight of items for three people inside, it was almost as heavy as a person. He then slung his heavy sword over his neck and carried it forward.

    Volka handed as much of his own burden as possible to Ricardt and then hoisted Molty onto his back. The two of them, burdened with weights almost too much to bear, began walking toward the rendezvous point.

    Each step was exhausting, and after walking for several hours, they were drenched in sweat, as if it were raining.

    One positive thing was that the physical exhaustion made all their anxieties and fears disappear. They were just tired. All they wanted was to sit down and rest.

    Eventually, they caught up with the original group. Ice and his two friends, along with two female students and one male student.

    Their eyes widened when they saw Ricardt and Volka. They survived? How?

    Even Ice, who rarely showed any change in expression, seemed quite surprised, his eyes widening.

    ¡°You fucking bastards¡­¡±

    Volka growled, ring at them as if he was ready to kill. But Ricardt just brushed it off casually.

    ¡°Volka, leave it. Hey, someone, help out.¡±

    A male student approached and took Molty from Volka¡¯s back, and when Ice gestured to hispanion, thepanion came over and took Ricardt¡¯s bag.

    When Ricardt handed over the bag, his neck and shoulders felt relieved, and he almost wanted to copse right there. But instead, he leaned against a nearby tree and resisted the urge to sit down.

    At that moment, Volka suddenly lunged at Ice, roughly grabbing him by the cor.

    ¡°You fucking bastard. I knew it, you¡¯re not even human. You know that? You piece of shit. How about quitting as an adventurer and using that pretty face of yours to be a gigolo? You piece of trash.¡±

    Volka spat out insults furiously. He must have been really angry. Ice just looked at Volka calmly, even as his cor was being held.

    Surprisingly, it was Ricardt who intervened.

    ¡°Don¡¯t, Volka. It¡¯s understandable. Who wants to die, after all? You were conflicted about it too, weren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Ricky!¡±

    Volka shouted, as if in disbelief that Ricardt could say such a thing. But Ricardt simply shook his head quietly.

    Honestly, Ricardt couldn¡¯t say that he didn¡¯t harbor any resentment towards Ice and the other students who had left first, but he knew that shing emotionally with them now wouldn¡¯t help the situation. That¡¯s why he intervened to stop Volka.

    Volka roughly released his grip on Ice¡¯s cor. Ice staggered back a step but didn¡¯t fall.

    Surprisingly, Ice then spoke up.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t because I was afraid of dying. It was toplete the mission. That¡¯s all.¡±

    Is themission really that important? Ricardt didn¡¯t fully understand, but he didn¡¯t have much to say about it.

    ¡°Sure, yeah, missions are important. That¡¯s what problem solvers do. That¡¯s what being an adventurer is about. Anyway, let¡¯s move. We can rest once we get to the rendezvous point.¡±

    It seemed that the role of leader was naturally falling to Ricardt. In this emergency, he was the only one still thinking clearly.

    Ice, usually expressionless, seemed somewhat shaken, as evidenced by his attempt at an exnation. He wouldn¡¯t have felt the need to offer that excuse if he werepletelyposed.

    ¡°By the way, who do you think those people who attacked us were? Do you have any idea?¡±

    Ricardt asked, looking at Volka.

    ¡°Probably either the Brabant Guild or the Rubens Guild.¡±

    Both guilds were majorpetitors of the Beringen Guild. In the end, what Arno had said was true: students were being dragged into guild wars and dying because of it.

    But the situation this time was a bit different. They were ambushed while on a mission. Or more precisely, they were on their way to assist with a mission that other adventurers were handling. It wasn¡¯t even their own mission.

    ¡°Let¡¯s move,¡±

    Ricardt said. In any case, securing safety was the top priority for now. After that, they could decide whether to continue or give up.

    The nine students from Beringen Academy started moving towards the rendezvous point. Those who had broken or lost their weapons received swords that Ricardt had picked up.

    What would they have done without Ricardt? By now, they all might have scattered and fled, abandoning the mission entirely.

    They would have likely gotten lost in the forest, been captured by the enemy, eaten by beasts or monsters, or starved to death.

    The students weren¡¯t unaware of this reality. In fact, having experienced it firsthand, they understood it better than anyone else. They began to see Ricardt in a new light.

    He had more than just fighting skills; he had the ability to navigate through hopeless situations.

    His sense of responsibility in not abandoning hisrades, his urate judgment in chaotic situations, his courage to take risks, his boldness in making critical decisions, and his cool-headedness in not reacting emotionally¡ªall these qualities stood out.

    Though they recognized how remarkable he was, they couldn¡¯t help but think, ¡°How can someone like this exist?¡± He was only eleven years old. Wasn¡¯t this a bit extreme? Is this what it means to have the qualities of a hero?

    In any case, the students found themselves gravitating towards Ricardt, whether they realized it or not. They felt ashamed of their earlier decision to flee. Even if they weren¡¯t close to Ricardt, they began to feel certain that they could trust him.

    The group finally neared Griffinswald and tried to find the guild¡¯s hideout in the nearby forest. Since the area was unfamiliar, they wandered around quite a bit. It wasn¡¯t like they could go into the vige and ask where their hideout was.

    As the sun began to set and anxiety crept in about whether they would find the hideout in time, they finally spotted a secluded cabin hidden among the trees. This was the Beringen Guild¡¯s hideout in Griffinswald.

    The students, relieved, approached the cabin, but their relief quickly turned to despair.

    The adventurers who were supposed to lead them were sprawled out, dead, their bodies lying haphazardly around the cabin.

    ¡°Fuck this shit¡­¡±

    Volka muttered.

    Volka muttered. This time, Ricardt agreed, and so did the other students.

    They hadn¡¯t even managed to find the deserters they were after, and now it seemed they were all about to be wiped out by adventurers frompeting guilds.

 Chapter 24

    Chapter 24

    ¡°What should we do?¡±

    Someone said. The sky had already darkened. Especially because it was in the forest, it was even darker.

    But suddenly, Ricardt alone walked steadily towards the moonlit cabin.

    ¡°R-Ricky.¡±

    Volka called out, but he paid no attention.

    Without much caution, Ricardt opened the cabin door. Inside was a mess, but it didn¡¯t seem like anything had been taken. It meant they had purelye to kill people.

    He picked up antern that was rolling on the floor, lit it, and quickly scanned the interior of the cabin. Aside from the mess, there were no corpses, and it looked like it could serve as a ce to stay for the night.

    Ricardt then stepped back outside and looked at the bodies scattered around the cabin. The equipment had been stripped off, and the limbs were bent or stretched out haphazardly. There were a total of twelve bodies.

    He brought thentern closer to the corpses and examined them carefully, estimating the cause of death and the time of death, though not precisely.

    The bodies hadn¡¯t been killed instantly by a stab or cut to a vital point, but they had been butchered. It meant there had been some sort of fight.

    Flies buzzed around the bodies, but there were only eggs visible, with no maggots yet. Since there were no signs of birds or animals having pecked at the eyes or lips, it seemed only a day or two had passed.

    Based on the rough estimation of the timing, it seemed the incident here urred before Ricardt himself was attacked, about a day or two ago.

    Maybe, during the process of killing the adventurers here, they got word that reinforcements from the Academy wereing, so they hid and ambushed us? The route was obvious, after all.

    Ricardt tentatively concluded as much and thought that, as a result, the enemies must also be quite exhausted.

    But the students, watching Ricardt¡¯s actions with uneasy eyes, didn¡¯t dare approach him. Ricardt looked back at them and said,

    ¡°Judging by the looks of things, it seems the situation ended a few days ago, so there¡¯s no need to be so scared. We can stay here for a day.¡±

    Is that so? But even if what he says is true, how can he be so calm?

    However, the students gradually began to recognize and ept the reality. They were indeed fucked, but they couldn¡¯t just stay there doing nothing.

    ¡°Lay Molty on the bed and take care of the bodies as best we can. Then, we¡¯ll assign the night watch and¡­ we should have a meeting. Go inside the cabin and check your equipment.¡±

    Ricardt calmly gave instructions. The students followed his orders withoutint.

    They gathered the bodies in one ce and neatly covered them with a cloth. Digging a grave wasn¡¯t an option, as their stamina was now directly tied to their survival.

    Ricardt quickly organized the area outside the cabin and then went inside. Only onentern on the table illuminated the dark interior of the cabin.

    Since the cabin was used as a hideout by the guild, it was spacious enough tofortably amodate nine people.

    Ricardt found a spot among the students, drew his sword, and carefully inspected the de in the dim light to ensure it wasn¡¯t damaged.

    Then, he wiped it down properly with a cloth, took out camellia oil from his bag, and oiled it again.

    As he was quietly polishing the de, he suddenly felt someone¡¯s gaze. When he looked up, everyone was staring at him.

    ¡°What? What is it?¡±

    ¡°¡­No, I was just wondering if you had anything else to say.¡±

    Volka spoke.

    ¡°Get some sleep, even if just for a little while. We don¡¯t know what will happen tomorrow. Rest while you can.¡±

    ¡°By the way, are you sure it¡¯s safe to stay here?¡±

    ¡°You saw the bodies outside, right? They¡¯re not swarming with maggots yet. Given that the eyes and lips are still intact, only a day or two has passed. Do you really think the ones who killed those people are different from the ones who attacked us? I don¡¯t think so. So they¡¯re probably just as tired and worn out as we are. They likely don¡¯t have the strength to move. And since I killed the one who looked like the leader, there¡¯s probably no one to give orders until a newmander arrives. So it should be fine to stay here for a day. But of course, since we don¡¯t know what might happen, let¡¯s make sure the night watches is set up properly.¡±

    As Ricardt spoke fluently like a flowing stream, the students listened with slightly dazed expressions. How did he know all that? His ability to assess the situation was on another level.

    Volka blinked a few times before asking,

    ¡°¡­Ricky, have you had this kind of experience before?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s just say I have.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±

    Ricardt sighed inwardly and changed the subject.

    ¡°Has everyone checked their equipment? Do it while you still can. Blood might have caked up and could cause the de to stick in the sheath. Make sure to clean it thoroughly in advance.¡±

    At that, everyone hurriedly pulled out their weapons and began to inspect them. Seeing this, Ricardt thought to himself that they were still just kids after all.

    On the other hand, the fact that they hadn¡¯t immediately fled when attacked but had managed to put up a decent fight was praiseworthy, and the fact that they hadn¡¯tpletely lost theirposure made him realize that they hadn¡¯t be high-ranking students for nothing.

    ¡°So, what do we do now?¡±

    Volka asked while examining a sword that wasn¡¯t originally his own.

    After a moment of thought, Ricardt offered his suggestion.

    ¡°We have two options. One is to head back to the Academy tomorrow. The other is to first stop by the vige. By doing that, we can get a better grasp of the current situation and then decide whether to fight the enemies or not before continuing with themission.¡±

    ns often go awry, but having one was always necessary. Because without a n, it was difficult to decide on a course of action.

    When a n falls apart in the middle of a mission, it¡¯s important toe up with a new one on the spot.

    Ricardt¡¯s opinion was sound, and ultimately, they had to choose between the two options: return or move forward.

    Volka looked around at the students to gather their opinions.

    ¡°Raise your hand if you want to go back.¡±

    Three out of the eight students, excluding Molty, raised their hands. Two were female students, and one was male.

    ¡°Raise your hand if you want to go to the vige.¡±

    This time, Ice and his two friends raised their hands. It was three to three. Ricardt and Volka did not raise their hands.

    ¡°Ricky, what about you?¡±

    Once again, all eyes were on Ricardt. At this point, Ricardt was someone the others trusted almostpletely in situations like this.

    Soldiers are usually the best judge of theirmander¡ªwhether he is worth following or not. Now, the students were hoping Ricardt would lead them.

    ¡°Chasing deserters isn¡¯t something that can be done in a short amount of time. So, the deadline for the mission should be flexible. And we¡¯re a group of nine right now. In my view, that¡¯s not a small number. Except for Molty, we don¡¯t have any serious injuries. As long as we don¡¯t get ambushed like today and if we strike first, we have a good chance of defeating the enemies. Molty should be able to move around somewhat after resting for about two days, and by the third day, he should be able to fight. So, to sum it up, don¡¯t lose your nerve. You all fought well today.¡±

    Listening to Ricardt, it felt as if the haze in their eyes had cleared. The students, who had been too mentally exhausted and scared to think straight, started to realize that they were actually in a decent position.

    ¡°The way back is likely to be more dangerous. The enemies could easily focus their attention on that route. They won¡¯t be causing trouble in the vige, so let¡¯s head there as soon as it¡¯s light out. If we encounter them in the vige, that would be even better. We can find out who they are. And if that happens, we¡¯ll make sure to avenge ourselves, no matter when it is.¡±

    ¡°Avenge?¡±

    ¡°For our fallenrades.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°I know we weren¡¯t exactly close. So, I¡¯m not expecting us to trust each other with our lives and fight together. I won¡¯t ask for that. But I want us to promise one thing: if any of us fall to the enemy, we will make sure to avenge them.¡±

    The mention of revenge enveloped the students in a strange mood. There was a certain desperation conveyed by the word itself.

    It wasn¡¯t exactly a positive feeling, but it wasn¡¯t entirely negative either. Revenge had a mysterious power to bind people together, forcibly creating a bond of trust. And it brought with it a peculiar sense of stability.

    Moreover, revenge was both a right and a duty of nobles. No matter how many years it took or what methods were employed, nobles were required to avenge any insult to their family or any unjust harm they suffered.

    This was how they gained and maintained their privileges, and it was also one of the reasons why feudal society found it so difficult to achieve harmony. There were hardly any noble families that weren¡¯t entangled in some sort of vendetta with other families.

    Moreover, revenge wasn¡¯t exclusive to the nobility; it also served as a means for criminal organizations to maintain their internal solidarity.

    In short, Ricardt suggested this approach because he believed that these nine people needed to band together if they were to aplish anything.

    If they all went their separate ways, looking out only for themselves, then what was the point of sticking together?

    ¡°I¡¯ll go first.¡±

    Ricardt picked up a wooden bowl lying on the ground. Then, he drew a dagger, swiftly cut his palm, and squeezed out some blood into the bowl. The amount of blood wasn¡¯t that much.

    Even without saying anything, the students in the cabin understood the significance of Ricardt¡¯s actions. Although it was a somewhat pagan and barbaric method, there were folk beliefs that had been passed down for a long time.

    Ricardt handed the dagger to Volka. Without hesitation, Volka confidently shed his own palm and squeezed out his blood into the bowl. Didn¡¯t he cut a bit too deep?

    In any case, using the same dagger, each person took turns squeezing their blood into the bowl. When it was Ice¡¯s turn, he hesitated, holding the dagger and the bowl for a moment.

    Then, without a word, he cut his palm. Once all eight of them had contributed their blood, the amount in the bowl was considerable.

    Ricardt dipped his finger in the blood, touched it to his forehead and heart, then drew a line across his neck.

    ¡°Huh? I thought we were supposed to drink it?¡±

    Volka remarked.

    ¡°Why would we drink something so bloody? Isn¡¯t this how they do it in the North?¡±

    ¡°Ricky, are you from the North? I thought you were from the South?¡±

    ¡°In my vige, we draw a cross on the face.¡±

    It seemed that the method of making an oath varied from region to region. Ricardt, Volka, and the other students exchanged puzzled looks but eventually followed Ricardt¡¯s lead, marking their foreheads, hearts, and necks with blood.

    ¡°From now until this mission ispleted, if any of us here suffer an unjust death, or fall victim to the enemy¡¯s weapon, each of us swears to kill those responsible. Anyone who breaks this oath will face divine punishment and will descend into hell after death.¡±

    It might seem like a childish ritual, but seeing the blood and performing the ceremony brought a sense of seriousness and solemnity. The dark setting of the cabin only heightened the atmosphere.

    As Ricardt made the oath on their behalf, the students finally began to feel a sense of unity. It might not have been a strong bond, but it was as red as blood.

    The night was deep, and though the students hadn¡¯t slept well, it was better than staying up all night with their eyes wide open.

    By morning, Molty had regained consciousness, and with some assistance, he was able to walk on his own, albeit with difficulty.

    ¡°Did something happen while I was out?¡±

    Molty asked, confused, as he noticed everyone had bandages wrapped around one hand.

    ¡°We made an oath. An oath of revenge. Even if we can¡¯t protect each other, we promised to avenge each other. And starting now, we¡¯ll seek revenge for our fallenrades. No matter who the enemy is.¡±

    At Ricardt¡¯s words, Molty looked around at the students. While they didn¡¯t seem much different from usual, there was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere¡ªan air of seriousness that was hard to describe. It felt like a firm resolve had taken hold of them.

    ¡°In that case, I can¡¯t be left out.¡±

    Despite having already copsed from excessive blood loss, Molty cut his own palm to join in the oath.

    With that, all nine of thempleted the vow the reinforcements from Beringen Academy set off towards Griffinswald. They did not run away. Whether they would seed or fail, they resolved to fight to the end.

    In the early morning light, Ricardt walked at the front, with the students naturally following behind the youngest among them.

    With a violet flower drawn on his chest, a red cloak draped over his body, and a longsword slung over his shoulder, that boy was their leader.

    He looked like the leader of a pack of wild dogs.

 Chapter 25

    Chapter 25

    Trantor: Willia

    The forest, unlike other ces, was a location where one could feel that distinctive, fresh air. The smells of trees, soil, moss, grass, and even the invisible tiny things blended together, offering a sense of calm.

    The breath exhaled by the old trees and the young trees alike seemed to cleanse a person¡¯s lungs.

    A ce where life could be felt, a ce that itself breathed with life¡ªthat was the forest.

    Especially at dawn, that energy could be felt even more. It was a sensation as if one¡¯s troubled mind and soul were being washed clean.

    But in that wonderful air, a strange, unpleasant scent of blood tinged the tip of his nose. The smell of blood.

    Somewhere along the winding forest path, corpses were scattered here and there. A group of people wandered among the bodies.

    A man with a somewhat rough beard covering his chin and brown shoulder-length hair looked down at the corpses nkly.

    Judging by the state of the bodies, they bore many stab and spear wounds, clear signs of a battle. And though it was hard to notice at first nce, every corpse had their eyes closed, as if someone had offered a prayer for them.

    ¡°n Master. Over here.¡±

    Someone called the man with shoulder-length hair from a spot off the forest path. The man¡¯s name was Lorenz, the n Master of the Rubens n.

    A n Master referred to a person who managed several ns within the guild. The guild typically had an organizational structure with the Guild Master, the Advisory Council, n Masters, n Chiefs, and Adventurers. The Adventurers¡¯ Guild generally followed such a structure.

    While a n Master¡¯s martial prowess was important, the position required a high level of expertise.

    Given that adventurers were known for being free-spirited and uncooperative, managing them was no easy task. It required delicate management skills, as neither being too strict nor toox would work.

    Moreover,manding operations that involved deploying multiple ns demandedplex knowledge and extensive field experience.

    Upon hearing his name, Lorenz strode over to where he was being called.

    Not far away, a grotesquely positioned corpsey. The body was kneeling, its upper body tilted backward, and most notably, it was headless.

    It was an exceedingly ufortable posture. But since the person was dead, it didn¡¯t matter anymore.

    However, it was possible to surmise how the death had urred. The head had been severed while the person was still standing. That was Lorenz¡¯s deduction.

    Judging by the cut, it seemed as though the head had been sliced off in one clean stroke, rather than being sawed off repeatedly. Unless someone deliberately stretched out their neck like an executioner¡¯s victim, cutting off the head of a standing person in one go was no simple feat.

    What was more, there were no other visible wounds apart from the beheading. It meant the fight had ended in a single strike.

    Nearby, the severed heady on the ground. The man nudged it lightly with his foot to reveal the face. He muttered quietly.

    ¡°There¡¯s no way¡­¡­¡±

    Although his expression didn¡¯t change much, Lorenz was truly in disbelief. The reason was that the decapitated person was someone highly regarded within the guild.

    There were several stages leading up to bing a Sword Master, though each guild had its own ssification system. In the case of the Rubens Guild, they categorized it as the ¡°Petal Stage¡± and the ¡°Blooming Stage¡±.

    In the Petal Stage, when striking with the de, a petal-like form of mana would ripple. In the Blooming Stage, swinging the sword would leave a mana afterimage along the trajectory. Finally, upon reaching the level of a Sword Master, light would emanate from the de.

    No one knew the exact method to be a Sword Master. It wasn¡¯t achieved simply by training in Mana Drive or solely through swordsmanship practice.

    What was universally epted across all guilds, however, was that realbat experience was essential.

    It was believed that killing someone or fighting in a life-or-death duel would ignite a certain mindset or mental process, which served as a kind of catalyst.

    The decapitated person before him had been at the Petal Stage. He was a valuable talent, someone the Rubens Academy produced only once every few years.

    The fact that he had died like this left Lorenz stunned, and as a n Master, it would be difficult for him to avoid responsibility.

    Whether at the Petal Stage or as a Sword Master, one does not be immortal. They too are humans made of flesh and bone, capable of falling to their death while climbing a mountain, dying from an arrow, or sumbing to poison.

    However, they usually didn¡¯t die easily¡ªespecially not in a situation involving swordy. Yet, someone had died. Why? How? Who could possibly kill a swordsman who had reached the Petal Stage?

    ¡°Did they notice¡­? Strange¡­ That shouldn¡¯t be possible¡­¡±

    Lorenz muttered to himself as he lifted his foot from the severed head.

    He couldn¡¯t make sense of it. The main goal of this operation had been to kill the adventurers of the Beringen Guild, and that had already been aplished by raiding their hideout.

    During that process, they had learned that academy students wereing as reinforcements. To rack up additional achievements, they had hidden along the path to ambush them.

    It wasn¡¯t something they had to do. But in the end, annihting thepeting guild was the only way for their guild to survive, and it was the path to getting closer to power. So, if they had the opportunity, it was better to take it.

    But now someone had died. A talent cherished by the guild. Was this a loss or a gain? Lorenz weighed the pros and cons in his mind.

    Twelve active adventurers and one promising talent who had the potential to be a Sword Master. Which one was more valuable?

    Though the difference wasn¡¯trge, no matter how he thought about it, it leaned toward a loss. In that case, he had to make up for the loss. How should he do that?

    Lorenz stroked his beard as he fell into thought. If the academy student who killed the promising talent was of a simr level, then killing that person would make up for the loss.

    He must be killed. This was no longer a matter of scoring additional achievements. If their side had suffered a significant loss, the enemy had to suffer just as much.

    Reaching a tentative conclusion, Lorenz looked to his side. Six or seven young men stood there, as if they were guilty of something.

    ¡°What did he look like?¡±

    ¡°Well, he wore a red cloak and was quite short. He looked rather young too, but he wielded arge sword that didn¡¯t suit his body size. It was a longsword with leather wrapped around the ricasso.¡±

    ¡°If he was that young, he wouldn¡¯t be an active adventurer, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ we were pretty sure he was a student¡­ that¡¯s what we had thought¡­¡±

    Lorenz became convinced. There was a talent at or even above the Petal Stage in the Beringen Guild Academy. That person had to die.

    Now that his target was clear, the next course of action naturally came to Lorenz¡¯s mind.

    ¡°Search the area and block any escape routes. Not a single one of them should escape alive. If word reaches Beringen, the entire operation will be canceled. If that happens, you won¡¯t get your reward. I¡¯ll be fucked, and you¡¯ll be fucked too. Do you understand?¡±

    The initial purpose of this mission had been to deal a one-sided blow to the Beringen Guild through a surprise attack.

    But if the Beringen Guild caught onte and deployed their full force, the situation would escte, and both sides would suffer losses, rendering the operation meaningless.

    However, Ricardt had already anticipated this situation. The enemy might try to block the path to Beringen, but they wouldn¡¯t linger around the hideout or Griffinswald, which they had already passed through.

    On the other hand, Lorenz hadn¡¯t anticipated it. He hadn¡¯t expected that mere academy students would choose to press on with their mission instead of fleeing.

    Griffinswald meant the forest where griffins lived. However, since griffins, which were close to mythical creatures, were so rare, the name of the vige seemed rather unfitting. Had there been more of them in the past?

    The vige was situated on a somewhat steep hill, with the surrounding terrain carved out for defense. And a sturdy wooden fence encircled that hill.

    There was a temple dedicated to a deity in the center, and the rest of the structures were all simple huts. The poption wasn¡¯t veryrge, with most people surviving by gathering herbs, hunting, or foraging.

    While it wasn¡¯t an environment that could sustain arge poption, it was decent enough for a smallmunity to live off. Simr to Stormhertz.

    Though not entirely certain, there was one likely theory rted to this vige.

    It was said that an Imperial Ranger once stayed here, eventually marrying an elf and settling down permanently, and that their descendants had firmly established themselves in this ce.

    Nowadays, they no longer had any direct connection to the Imperial family. However, most of the vige¡¯s men were Rangers. So, it was best not to act recklessly around here¡ªunless, of course, one didn¡¯t mind an arrow suddenly lodging between their brows without warning.

    This wasn¡¯t a vige frequented by outsiders, yet nine strangers were wandering around the vige. Although they were all cloaked, the weapons hanging at their waists were clearly visible.

    Among them, one stood out as an easy target, even from a distance. He wore a bright red cloak and carried a sword slung over one shoulder.

    The vigers watched the group nkly. Children, their eyes glimmering with curiosity, gazed at the strangers in fascination.

    Meanwhile, a man standing guard in a watchtower was quietly observing Ricardt and his group. He held a bow in his hand.

    As Ricardt nced around, one house caught his eye. In the yard, an unfinished crossbow was drying as if it were hung on a clothesline. It seemed this ce was a bowyer¡¯s workshop. Crossbows were indeed a well-known specialty of this area.

    An old man was ning a piece of wood with a rasping sound. Ricardt approached him and spoke.

    ¡°Excuse me, I¡¯d like to ask you something.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    The old man stopped ning and lifted his head to look at Ricardt and hispanions. Though they were armed, he didn¡¯t seem the least bit frightened.

    ¡°My name is Ricky, a student from the Beringen Guild Academy. Do you happen to know of the Beringen Adventurers¡¯ Guild? There must have been adventurers operating around here with a nearby hideout.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­I heard those fools died?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re aware of that too. However, we were wondering if you might know who killed them.¡±

    ¡°So, adventurers are killing each other, and now you want me to get involved? If I tell you, wouldn¡¯t I be helping you? Then the other side will likely hold a grudge against us.¡±

    ¡°Ah, my thoughts were short-sighted. My apologies. In that case, have you heard anything about deserters?¡±

    The old man silently stared at the boy who had readily admitted his mistake and then replied.

    ¡°¡­You¡¯d have to go to the city for that. Besides, fugitives usually tend to blend into the city, not stay in ces like this.¡±

    ¡°I see. Then, what¡¯s the nearest city from here?¡±

    ¡°Torveil. It¡¯s a day¡¯s journey to the south. If you leave now, you should be able to make it out of the forest by sunset.¡±

    ¡°Got it. By the way, would it be possible to get some herbs or food here? We¡¯ll make sure the guild pays you backter.¡±

    Some of the students had lost their belongings in the chaos of their escape, so they were running low on food after having to share what little they had left. They needed supplies from the vige, but they didn¡¯t have any money.

    Ricardt himself had spent all his money beforeing here. The other students had lost whatever they had left.

    The old man frowned slightly and spoke.

    ¡°And what reason do I have to give you any food?¡±

    ¡°Your intuition, grandpa.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Look into my eyes and judge whether I¡¯m trustworthy or not.¡±

    The old man seemed incredulous at first, but his frown soon softened, and he let out a snicker. He stared at Ricardt for a moment before calling out to someone inside the house.

    ¡°Lester! Lester!¡±

    ¡°Yes, grandpa!¡±

    From inside the hut, the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard. Shortly after, a sturdy young man appeared. The old man addressed him.

    ¡°You know that deer we caughtst winter and salted? There should be a few pieces of meat left. Give them all to these people. And get them a few stalks of herbs too.¡±

    ¡°Yes, grandpa.¡±

    The young man, without a word ofint, did as he was told. He went back inside the hut and soon returned with salted meat and several bundles of herbs used for treating wounds.

    Ricardt took the provisions and handed them to the students, then spoke to the old man again.

    ¡°I won¡¯t forget your kindness.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not kindness if I¡¯m not giving it for free. I¡¯ve got work to do, so if you¡¯re done, be on your way.¡±

    Ricardt gave the old man a polite bow and turned to leave. He and his group began walking south, away from the vige.

    ¡°Weren¡¯t you being a little too submissive? He¡¯s just some old man from the countryside.¡±

    Volka asked.

    ¡°When you¡¯re in a foreign ce, it¡¯s best to get help from the locals. If that¡¯s not possible, then at least don¡¯t make enemies of them. Locals are scarier than enemies. Someone once said this: ¡®If I can get help from the locals, I¡¯d kneel even before amoner.¡¯ The person who said that was a member of royalty.¡±

    It was something Caldebert had said¡ªRicardt¡¯s only close friend in his past life and now his ancestor. Caldebert the Breaker.

    Caldebert had originallye from the Adeloron Royal Family and had distinguished himself in the Eastern Expedition, establishing the branch family that Ricardt¡¯s family now belonged to.

    ¡°Sounds like bullshit.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s true. If you go through the hell of life-and-death struggles on a battlefield, your perspective changes a lot. And if it doesn¡¯t, well, you usually die.¡±

    ¡°¡­But how do you know all that?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s just say I heard it from my father.¡±

    Volka frowned slightly, looking like he wasn¡¯t quite buying it.

    ¡°The vigers didn¡¯t look all that strong.¡±

    ¡°Anyway, we got some food and found our next destination. We should head out. There might be a guild branch in that ce called Torveil.¡±

    ¡°Well, I guess that¡¯s true.¡±

    Volka nodded in agreement. And so, the nine students set off, not back toward their academy, but toward a new city.

    Meanwhile, no matter how thoroughly Lorenz¡¯s group searched the forest and blocked off escape routes, they couldn¡¯t find Ricardt¡¯s group. Eventually, Lorenz returned to the hideout they had attacked.

    As the saying goes, ¡®it¡¯s darkest under themppost¡¯, he found traces of the students there. Once again, Lorenz was dumbfounded. He thought that these clueless students had lost their minds ande here.

    Assuming that the Beringen Academy students had passed through the vige, Lorenz took around thirty adventurers and students into the vige. It was a day after Ricardt had already left.

    Lorenz soon found the old man Ricardt had spoken with.

    ¡°Hey, old man.¡±

    Lorenz called out to the old man, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. The old man was carefully ning wood once again and nced up at him.

    ¡°A bunch of brats passed through here, didn¡¯t they? I already know, so don¡¯t bother lying. Where did they go?¡±

    ¡°¡­I have no interest in getting involved in adventurers fighting among themselves. If I tell you, that¡¯d mean I¡¯m helping you, and then the other side will hold a grudge against us.¡±

    The old man repeated the same words he had said to Ricardt the previous day. However, this time, the response was very different.

    Lorenz narrowed his eyes and looked at the old man.

    ¡°You¡¯re really testing my patience, aren¡¯t you, old man? Do you not understand your situation? We have thirty people here, all well-armed. Burning down this useless vige and killing everyone would be child¡¯s y. You get what I¡¯m saying? Where did those bastards go? Want me to start by killing your grandson in front of you? Huh?¡±

    The old man stared quietly at Lorenz, his gaze slightly sharp.

    ¡°¡­Torveil. Yesterday.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re lying, know that we¡¯lle back and really kill everyone. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Lorenz led his men out of the vige, heading toward Torveil.

    But as the old man watched Lorenz leave, he suddenly shouted toward his hut.

    ¡°Lester! Lester!¡±

    ¡°Yes, grandpa!¡±

    Just like the day before, a young man came rushing out. However, the old man¡¯smand this time was entirely different.

    ¡°Gather the others. Then follow those bastards and kill them all.¡±

    ¡°Yes, grandpa.¡±

    The young man named Lester responded as if he had just received an order to run a simple errand,pletely unfazed.

    He then went around the vige, gathering the men. All of them were Rangers, armed with bows and crossbows.

    There was an old saying that one skilled Ranger could stop the advance of an entire army. It might sound exaggerated, but there was some truth to it.

    Armies naturally found it difficult to navigate through forests. Soldiers, caught in traps and sniped from a distance, often became too scared and copse, paralyzed by fear.

    Perhaps the reason why no beasts or monsters appeared in this forest, and why it remained so peaceful, was thanks to the Rangers of Griffinswald.

    They were the apex predators within this territory.

    These same Rangers now quietly pursued Lorenz and his men. Their quivers were full of arrows.

 Chapter 26

    Chapter 26

    Trantor: Willia

    When talking about distances, they were usually described in terms of how far an average adult could walk at a normal pace¡ªlike a day¡¯s journey or half a day¡¯s journey.

    This meant there was always a certain degree of variation depending on the person, and especially when locals spoke, it was necessary to take their words with a grain of salt. This was even more true for terrain like forests or mountains.

    That¡¯s why Ricardt estimated it would take about two days to get out of the forest. Furthermore, with an injured person in the group, they couldn¡¯t move quickly.

    The forest path was uneven, seeming to rise and fall constantly. They would climb a little, then descend, with thick tree roots jutting out everywhere. It was a road that no wagon or cart could possibly pass through.

    Molty insisted that he could walk on his own, but when Ricardt firmly refused, he had to ept Volka¡¯s support.

    And so the group spent another night in the forest. The sound of owls crying echoed in the air, and the moon was hidden behind the branches, making it hard to see. The darkness was pitch ck, with two campfires burning in the night.

    It was the kind of night where, beyond the reach of the firelight, it felt like some unknown terror was lurking in the shadows.

    They sliced up the salted meat they had gotten from the vige and shared it amongst themselves. It was so heavily salted that they had to eat it in tiny portions, along with hard bread.

    Though the students tried not to show it, their anxiety was clear in their eyes. Yet, amusingly, they seemed to steady their nerves by looking at the calm Ricardt. They couldn¡¯t figure out how he could remain soposed¡ªit was almost unsettling how he seemed unaffected by their situation.

    ¡°The enemy will probablye from the direction we traveled.¡±

    Ricardt spoke while cleaning the dagger he had used to cut the meat. Though he hadn¡¯t asked for their attention, everyone naturally turned toward him and listened closely.

    ¡°If they had gotten ahead of us and waited, we would have already encountered them near the vige. Waiting for us at the end of this road would take too long. So, they¡¯re probablyte, chasing us after scouting the area. Which means we¡¯ll have to fight.¡±

    Ricardt spoke firmly. There was no talk of running away or any other option¡ªhe was saying they would have to fight.

    ¡°We¡¯re split into three groups, so let¡¯s have three people take on one enemy each. You already know that whatever you trained for won¡¯te to mind in the heat of the moment, right? Just focus on stabbing and shing whenever you see an opening. With three of us facing one opponent, there¡¯s bound to be gaps.¡±

    It might have been a blow to their pride, but when lives were on the line, pride didn¡¯t matter at all. The students understood this well after their previous experience. However¡­

    ¡°The enemy outnumbers us, right? There are nine of us, and one of us is injured, but the enemy will probably be at least thirty. How can we handle that with just three people each?¡±

    A female student spoke up. It seemed that now, since they had be somewhat familiar with each other, she feltfortable enough to voice her thoughts without hesitation.

    ¡°That¡¯s why the first attack is crucial. If we hit them hard and fast and take down a few of them quickly, the rest might think we have more people than we really do. It¡¯s all about momentum. We have to win with momentum. Don¡¯t think about anything else¡ªjust focus on killing one at a time. Then we can wipe them all out. I¡¯ll handle the tougher ones myself.¡±

    Even if they believed Ricardt was right and trusted him as their leader, the students were still unsure, probably due to theirck of experience in realbat.

    Ricardt tapped the bandage wrapped around his left hand as he spoke.

    ¡°The wound on my palm hasn¡¯t fully healed yet.¡±

    It had only been a day since he swore he would fight without running away, and if someone died during the battle, he would definitely seek revenge.

    The sting in his palm was still fresh, reminding him of that oath.

    However, human nature is fickle, and in the heat of the moment, who knew how things would turn out?

    Ricardt looked over at Ice. Despite the dirt and grime of thest three days, his silver hair and wless features still seemed to shine.

    But the eyes that were usually so cold and indifferent now appeared, for some reason, somewhat mncholic. Or maybe¡­ he was scared.

    Ricardt still didn¡¯t understand this guy. Had he really left the group to fulfill the request? Was that the truth, or just a cowardly excuse? Ricardt couldn¡¯t tell.

    ¡°Fighting is better. Running away bes a habit too. And if that happens, it¡¯ll really make you feel miserable¡­¡±

    Ricardt murmured, as if talking to himself, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

    The campfire crackled, and the students remained silent. Whether they were steeling themselves or simply trembling with fear was unclear.

    Ricardt, being someone who was used to fighting, could handle this. But just because he was ustomed to it didn¡¯t mean he could force the students to risk their lives in battle.

    At the same time, he felt a certain kinship with them. He had been thrown into a battlefield when he was probably around 15 or 16 years old.

    Looking up at the faces of the students, he felt like he was reliving the thoughts, the trembling, the worries, and the anxiety he had felt back then.

    Because of that, there was no way he could ever say something like, ¡°If you run, I¡¯ll kill you.¡± Even if they ran, all he could do was embrace them again, saying it was okay.

    That said, he couldn¡¯t actively encourage them to run either, so Ricardt thought that he had done all he could up to this point.

    As the night deepened, Ricardt felt an inexplicable sense of mncholy. This was because nothing had changed.

    The next day, after walking a bit further through the forest, Ricardt decided they would set up an ambush midway. It was much better to prepare for a fight than to be caught off guard while walking.

    Some of the students thought they might be close to the edge of the forest, or that once they reached Torveil, they would run into some adventurers from the guild. But they trusted Ricardt¡¯s judgment and followed his lead.

    That was exactly what Ricardt had intended. Not just to gain an advantage in the fight, but also because lying in ambush in advance changes one¡¯s mindset. It makes people psychologically ept that ¡®we are actually fighting.¡¯

    Like a trulypetent fieldmander, Ricardt knew how to choose the time and ce for the fight.

    ¡°But hey, wouldn¡¯t it be better to hit them from both sides?¡±

    Volka asked. This was because currently, all the students were hiding on only one side of the path.

    ¡°That only works if we¡¯re coordinated. You¡¯ve experienced it yourself¡ªonce the des start swinging, it¡¯s chaos, and you might end up hitting your alliesing from the other side.¡±

    ¡°True¡­¡±

    In life-or-death situations, when people were extremely tense, it became hard to distinguish between friend and foe.

    That¡¯s why military formations were so important inrge-scale battles¡ªjust stab the guy in front of you.

    Therger the group, the more difficult it was tomand, but the easier it was for the individual soldiers who only needed to repeat simple actions. But in smaller-scale battles, the capabilities of the actual fighters became more important.

    Ricardt and the students readied their weapons and hid by the roadside, waiting. However, it turned out to be a more boring time than expected. All sorts of thoughts came to mind while waiting. From useless thoughts to those steeling their resolve.

    Then, around midday, a scream rang out in the distance, from the road they had already passed.

    ¡°Aaaaaaaahhh!¡±

    Everyone¡¯s eyes widened in shock. What was that sound?

    Again, another scream.

    ¡°Aaaaaaaahhh!¡±

    Once more, the group flinched. Even Ricardt, unsure of what was happening, was confused. What was going on?

    The screams continued intermittently. Don¡¯t leave me behind, please save me, I was wrong¡­¡­.

    Then at some point, a faint smell of burning was carried on the slight breeze. A fire? What? What¡¯s happening?

    ¡°Hey, you fucking bastards! Do you think I¡¯m a fucking joke?!¡±

    They still didn¡¯t know what exactly had happened, but it was clear that something very serious was going on. And the screams were getting closer. Then¡­

    ¡°Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah!¡±

    Someone came running toward them, empty-handed and out of breath, with no weapon in sight. Judging by his appearance, he was an adventurer¡ªand probably an enemy¡ªbut there were two arrows sticking out of his back. What?

    He had the look of someone who had just seen a ghost and was fleeing for his life in a panic.

    Ricardt instinctively realized what was happening. The enemy had gotten into some sort of conflict with the locals, and a fight had broken out. And it was clear that they were beingpletely overpowered.

    In unfamiliar ces, especially in harsh terrain like forests or mountains, it was impossible to outmatch the locals. If the enemy were skilled rangers adept at stealth and archery, it was best to avoid them altogether, much like steering clear of a poisonous frogs.

    The students flinched. Should they rush out now? What were they supposed to do? But Ricardt raised his arm to stop them. They had to observe for now.

    The students gripped their weapons tightly. From someone¡¯s bandaged hand, blood had begun to seep through. Their tension had reached its peak.

    The screams grew closer, and before long, another group of people came running toward them, panting. Arrows were stuck in their arms and bodies. One of them, with an arrow lodged in his thigh, was limping in a desperate attempt to escape.

    Ricardt lunged at the one who appeared the least injured among them. Startled, the man iled his arms wildly as he tried to flee.

    Thwack!

    Ricardt¡¯s sword came down hard, splitting the man¡¯s head. That marked the beginning. The students burst out all at once.

    ¡°Revenge!¡±

    Someone shouted. Then, without being told, all the students shouted.

    ¡°Revenge!¡±

    The enemy had no morale to begin with, and since they were poorly equipped, it turned into a near one-sided ughter.

    ¡°W-wait!¡±

    ¡°I surrender!¡±

    The enemies begged for mercy at the end, but none of the students showed any. They hacked and shed everyst one of them to death. It even got to the point where Ricardt had to stop one of the students from furiously stabbing a corpse in a frenzy.

    ¡°Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah!¡±

    It wasn¡¯t clear why they were panting so hard, but adrenaline was pumping wildly, and they were half out of their minds.

    More people, fleeing in terror, appeared soon after. Upon seeing the bodies of their allies scattered around Ricardt and his group, they were struck with horror and fled into the forest, where there was no clear path.

    Meanwhile, the smell of burning grew stronger, and they could see thick, gray smoke rising in the distance.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go. The fire might spread faster than we expect. Molty, you take the lead. I¡¯ll stay at the rear.¡±

    Ricardt intentionally ced the injured person at the front. It was to ensure that no one would be left behind¡ªthey had to all survive. The students understood his intention, and with newfound confidence, they nodded in agreement.

    Ricardt slung his scabbard diagonally across his body, sword in hand, and walked at the back of the group.

    But about an hour after they set out, while chasing the fleeing enemies rather than being pursued, a sudden wave of thick gray smoke enveloped them. They hadn¡¯t even felt the heat of the approaching fire yet.

    As the smoke swept past them, stinging their eyes and making them cough, the group in front of Ricardt seemed to vanish, as if by magic. It wasn¡¯t just Ricardt¡ªevery student was in the same situation.

    ¡°Cough! Cough!¡±

    The smoke swirled around them in all directions, disorienting everyone. They could barely see the path at their feet. From this moment on, the students could only walk forward blindly.

    Then, someone suddenly lunged through the smoke and attacked Volka. A sharp, eerie sound sliced through the air near his ears.

    Whoosh!

    Startled, Volka twisted his body reflexively to dodge. However, his foot caught on a tree root, and he fell. Blood trickled down his cheek where the tip of a de had grazed him.

    Through the thick smoke, flickering firelight revealed a figure ring at Volka with eyes gleaming in madness.

    The man¡¯s disheveled appearance, with his hair in wild disarray and arrows sticking out of his back like a porcupine, made him look like a demon straight out of hell. His tattered leather armor, worn out from battle, barely clung to his body.

    He growled like a beast.

    ¡°You fucking bastards, who the fuck do you think you¡¯re messing with¡­!¡±

    It was none other than Lorenz. Having stirred up trouble with the rangers and suffered a severe beating, he seemed to have lost his mind and be consumed with rage. He was ready to kill anyone he came across.

    He was also the one who had started the fire. As his subordinates were helplessly dying at the hands of the rangers, he had set the fire as ast, desperate act.

    Volka scrambled to get up, trying to escape. But he had dropped his sword during the fall and was now defenseless.

    As he strayed from the path, not knowing where he was, the terrifying murderer quickly approached, trying to stab Volka in the back.

    ng!

    The sound of shing metal rang out. Volka fell once again, turning to see what had happened. A ck cloak fluttered in the smoke. Unbelievably, it was Ice. Volka couldn¡¯t believe his eyes. Why¡­?

    ¡°That way. Go.¡±

    Ice spoke coldly. Then, he stood between Volka and Lorenz.

    Thick smoke still swirled around, stinging their noses with its acrid scent. And the mes seemed to be getting closer, as they could feel the heat.

    Lorenz and Ice exchanged blows without uttering a word. As Ice swung his sword, a trail of shimmering white crystals, like snowkes, blossomed in its trajectory.

    For a brief moment, a chill could be felt. ording to the Rubens Guild¡¯s ssification, it was undoubtedly at the Blooming Stage.

    Startled, Lorenz quickly avoided shing swords, tilting his body to retreat and widen the distance between them.

    ¡°So it¡¯s you! You¡¯re the one who caused all of this! Hehehe¡­ Yes, if I kill you, I can make up for everything! You son of a bitch! I¡¯ll definitely kill you!¡±

    Though he had heard reports that a young man in a red cloak had killed the promising guild talent, but seeing the Blooming Stage right in front of him, he seemed to forget everything else.

    But Ice, focused entirely on his opponent, paid no mind to Lorenz¡¯s outburst.

    Once again, Lorenz¡¯s sword came flying toward Ice. Ice raised his sword, intending to block it with his guard. He had already envisioned the next sequence of moves in his mind, but there was a gap in their practical experience.

    There was no sensation when their des met. Lorenz deftly twisted his wrist to pull his sword back, then, out of nowhere, dirt came at Ice¡¯s face.

    Ice quickly turned his head, but that momentary gap was dangerous in a fight between skilled opponents.

    A burning sensation spread across Ice¡¯s side. He had been shed, and it seemed deep. Despite the pain, Ice clenched his teeth andunched a counterattack. He parried the opponent¡¯s sword strike aimed at his throat. However, once again, his de only cut through empty air.

    In that moment, a thought shed through Ice¡¯s mind- ¡®This is the end.¡¯ In a life-or-death battle, the oue couldn¡¯t be determined by sword skill alone.

    Unless it was a formal duel between knights, what fool in their right mind would fight fairly? There were too many variables inbat, especially depending on the terrain. Acrid smoke stinging the nose, eyes smarting, hot air and uneven ground, blurred vision.

    If this had been a pure test of swordsmanship, Ice might have won with ease. But here, in this life-and-death struggle, every method had to be employed.

    As Ice¡¯s sword once again cut through empty air, snowke-like mana bloomed beautifully around it. But that was all. In the blink of an eye, Lorenz had shifted to Ice¡¯s side, raising his sword like an executioner.

    Ice fell to the ground, pressing his hands into the dirt. He quickly twisted his body to look up at Lorenz, but it seemed that all that remained was for Lorenz to bring his sword down, whether it be on his neck, head, or chest.

    Just then, someone flew through the smoky firelight, like an angel with wings made of mes. That¡¯s how it looked to Ice.

    Ricardt raised his sword above his head and struck down. But Lorenz was no ordinary opponent, his reflexes were almost animal-like.

    He quickly retreated, putting distance between himself and Ricardt. However, Ricardt, now on the offensive, didn¡¯t give Lorenz any time to regain his stance. His strikes came in swift session.

    Swish! Whoosh! Swish!

    The strikes weren¡¯t too fast nor too slow. At first nce, they appeared to be nothing special. And yet, strangely, Lorenz found himself continuously being pushed back, unable to find an opportunity to counterattack. An unsettling feeling crept up his spine.

    It was because Lorenz was highly skilled that he could even sense the unease. If he had been less experienced, he wouldn¡¯t have had the time to feel it. His sword would have already been shattered, and he would have been dead long before.

    That¡¯s when Lorenz noticed Ricardt¡¯s cloak. A red cloak¡­ Wait a minute, this is strange. Wasn¡¯t that the guy who had just used the Blooming Stage Sword?

    Ricardt was steadily advancing, taking control of the space with his precise footwork and using what is known as an ¡®angles of attack¡¯ in swordsmanship. Realizing his mistake toote, Lorenz found himself with no more room to retreat.

    So, using the same technique he had used against Ice, Lorenz feigned a counterattack, trying to lure Ricardt into making a mistake. However, Ricardt¡¯s hot yet cold eyes not only saw through but pierced through that deception.

    Whish!

    Thunk!

    Lorenz attempted to avoid Ricardt¡¯s sword by twisting his wrist, but the distance between them had already closed, and so, unable to block, half of his head was cut off. The upper part of his lower jaw was cleanly severed.

    Thud.

    The headless body copsed to the ground. The tongue and teeth were visible at the severed surface. The decapitated head twitched one eye for a brief moment, and the body, now separated from the brain, spasmed for a while before both parts ceased their movements entirely.

    Ricardt immediately sheathed his sword, slung it over his shoulder, and approached Ice.

    ¡°Can you move?¡±

    Ice couldn¡¯t answer. His expression, as he looked up at Ricardt, was one of disbelief¡ªlike someone who had witnessed a miracle.

    For a moment, Ice felt as if time had stopped. In the smoky, fiery forest, as the world seemed to copse, it felt like a heavenly being was gazing down at him.

    After spacing out for a moment, Ice snapped back to reality and spoke. Blood was gushing out from his side.

    ¡°J-just leave¡­ go¡­¡±

    Just leave, he said. Was it because of the wound? Or was it because of the guilt of abandoning them before?

    Ricardt looked at him quietly for a moment, then said firmly.

    ¡°You may be able to abandon me, but I won¡¯t abandon you. That¡¯s the difference between you and me.¡±

    Ice lowered his head and spoke in a tone that seemed pleading, desperate.

    ¡°¡­No matter what you do, you can¡¯t save me¡­ Just let me die¡­¡±

    ¡°If you keep spouting nonsense, I¡¯ll knock you out and carry you. Now, get on my back. And put this over yourself. If you don¡¯t want that handsome face of yours to get ruined.¡±

    Without waiting for further discussion, Ricardt took off his cloak, already drenched in sweat and soot, and spoke as if there was no time to waste.

    He grabbed Ice¡¯s arm and forcibly hoisted him up onto his back. Covering him with the soaked cloak, Ricardt charged straight into the mes. Ice buried his face into the boy¡¯s shoulder.

    After running for who knows how long, as they escaped from that hellish ce, they suddenly found themselves in a vast, refreshing field. Cool air greeted them, along with bright sunshine. It was such a stark contrast that it felt as if heaven and hell were right next to each other. They had finally made it out of the forest.

    There, the other students¡ªalready having escaped¡ªand a group of Beringen Guild adventurers, who had arrived after receiving the news, were waiting for them.

    The students, who had been anxiously waiting, burst into cheers and rushed toward Ricardt when they saw him emerge with Ice. Volka, overwhelmed with extreme relief, copsed on the spot, her face crumpling as he let out a long-held breath.

    All nine of them had survived. And not only that, they had killed the n Master of a rival guild¡¯s n.

    Nothing like this had ever happened since the academy was established. Despite being ambushed, they had fought back, killed their leader, and survived.

    What even seasoned, skilled adventurers would find difficult to achieve, these mere students had managed to do.

    As a result, the adventurers from Beringen were left wondering how they were going to report this absurd oue.

    But for now, it was time to just bask in the sunshine and breeze and rest, leaving all that aside. These boys and girls had more than earned that right.

    Ricardtid Ice down and began to administer first aid. The adventurers stepped in to handle it instead. They washed the wound, used potions generously, and stitched it with a needle.

    The peace outside the forest was so stark that it made the events of just moments ago feel like a distant lie.

    Icey on Ricardt¡¯s cloak, staring up at the blue sky with its slowly drifting white clouds, feeling sleep approach, aided by the potions.

    In the distance, he could hear the students chattering excitedly. Now, there was no longer any awkwardness or tension between them, they had all be one.

    As Ice gazed up at the clear sky, feeling like he was alone in some faraway ce, sleep began to take hold. But suddenly, Ricardt¡¯s face popped into view, blocking his line of sight.

    ¡°You alright? Need anything else?¡±

    Ricardt asked. But Ricardt¡¯s appearance was a sight to behold. His skin was flushed red from running through the mes, and his hair was singed and curly, looking like a charred broli.

    ¡°He, hehehe¡­¡±

    Despite the pain, Ice couldn¡¯t help butugh.

    Seeing the boy who never smiled actuallyugh, Ricardt¡¯s eyes grew wide. Then, realizing why Ice wasughing, Ricardt couldn¡¯t help but chuckle along with him.

    With the cool breeze, warm sunshine, and the gentle drift into a peaceful nap next to a trusted friend, there was nothing more he could ask for.

    Chapter 6 ¨C When a Frozen Heart Melts. End.

 Chapter 27

    Chapter 27

    Trantor: Willia

    It looked like a structure built by giants. It was hard to believe that humans had built it. Even from a distance, its grandeur felt as if it were right in front of them.

    Not far from Torveil, nestled between deep valleys, there was a massive gateway. Its name was the Gate of Giants. No one knew who built it, when, or for what reason.

    And that gate was the very entrance to the Eastern Expedition Territory, leading to Fernd. It had remained unchanged for over a hundred years.

    Ricardt stood a little away from the city, staring at the gate endlessly. The memories from that time, and the emotions those memories held, came flooding back¡ªfear, worry, anxiety, and resignation.

    The gate stood firm, as if it were sealing away a colossal demon that could bring about the end of the world.

    ¡°Man, this really feels good. I can¡¯t stop touching it.¡±

    Volka said as he yed with Ricardt¡¯s fluffy blond hair. While his skin had returned to normal, his hair remained the same. It seemed he¡¯d have to live like this for a while.

    Even with Volka¡¯s yful touch, Ricardt didn¡¯t really mind. But as he stayed still, others also tried to touch his hair, so he waved his hand over his head, shooing them away like flies.

    In response, Volka and the other students burst outughing. Molty smiled contentedly, and Ice simply watched in silence.

    ¡°What did uncle Alter say?¡±

    Ricardt turned to Volka and asked. Alter was the branch manager and n master of the Beringen Adventurers¡¯ Guild in Torveil.

    Surprisingly, unlike Reinfurt where they rented space in a thieves¡¯ guild building, Torveil actually had its own proper guild building. But isn¡¯t that how things should be?

    ¡°He just says the same thing. Something about higher-ups and telling us to wait for now.¡±

    Ricardt and his group hade out to assist with the request. The main task was for the adventurers, and they were there to provide support.

    But after what happened on the way, the guild had toe up with its own response. Whether to go to war or end things here, and if so, what kind of agreement they needed to reach.

    It had already been a week since they arrived, and in short, everything was on hold.

    Of course, in the meantime, they were enjoying what felt like an unnned vacation. Warm baths, fresh food, and refreshing, exotic scenery.

    ¡°Hey! Over here!¡±

    Someone called from behind, and when they turned, it was a guild member. He waved them over. The academy students, scattered across the field, gathered and approached him.

    ¡°Come to the branch. The branch manager says he has something to say.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s he got to say? Are we finally going to carry out the request?¡±

    Volka asked. But the adventurer from the guild just shrugged.

    ¡°How should I know? Instructions from above are divided into public and confidential ones.¡±

    Well, we¡¯ll find out once we hear it, Ricardt thought.

    Ricardt and his group entered the cylindrical, slightly tilted building within the city, which looked like something a witch might live in.

    There was an attic on the second floor, and the cozy building seemed like a perfect ce for an old woman to live.

    Scrolls were messily stuffed into the bookshelves, and various herbs were hung from the ceiling to dry. A weak fire quietly burned in the firece.

    The person sitting at the desk saw Ricardt and the others and waved them over. That was Alter, the branch manager. He was so fat that it was hard to imagine how he had ever be an adventurer.

    Ricardt and the nine students approached him. Alter stared at Ricardt for a moment.

    Ricardt was taller than others his age, his limbs looked quite sturdy, but his face still had the appearance of a child. And above all, that curly hair¡­

    ¡°No matter how much I look at you, I just can¡¯t get used to it¡­¡±

    ¡°What can¡¯t you get used to?¡±

    ¡°That you killed ¡®Wolf¡¯ Lorenz.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t he too stupid to be called a wolf? He needlessly stirred up a ho¡¯s nest.¡±

    He was referring to how Lorenz had unnecessarily provoked the Rangers of Griffinswald, gaining nothing from it.

    ¡°Stupid, huh¡­ He was famous for being cunning, though. He was always tricky for us to deal with. Well, anyway, our Master had a meeting with the opposing n¡¯s Master. The Rubens Guild demanded that we kill someone of the same rank as our ¡®n Master¡¯ in return.¡±

    Just saying ¡®Master¡¯ referred to the Guild Master.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, of course it doesn¡¯t. So, naturally, that was rejected. Next, they demanded we hand over the person who killed Lorenz.¡±

    It was Ricardt who had killed Lorenz. The students standing behind him looked shocked, as if thinking, ¡°No way.¡±

    ¡°And then?¡±

    ¡°Well, right there, our Master told me to give you this.¡±

    Alter pulled out a golden cloak pin from his drawer and held it out. It was a carving of an eagle biting a snake in its beak, symbolizing Beringen, along with aurel wreath symbolizing the Emperor.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s something that symbolizes a Senior Adventurer. I don¡¯t wear it myself because it¡¯s too embarrassing. Don¡¯t sell it, though. Ah, but you¡¯re not officially an adventurer yet. Not until you graduate andplete the contract period. Anyway, it¡¯s yours for now.¡±

    While he wasn¡¯t an adventurer yet, it basically meant they were treating him as a Senior Adventurer. After all, he could still choose not to be one halfway through.

    ¡°And these are for the rest of you.¡±

    Alter pulled out a set of silver cloak pins from the drawer and spread them across the table. They also had theurel and the eagle, but the eagle wasn¡¯t holding a snake in its beak. These symbols represented the Intermediate level.

    It was an extraordinary promotion, especially since they hadn¡¯t even faced a deserter yet. It was also a provocation, made right in front of the opposing guild.

    While they hadn¡¯t outright said it, it was basically the same as dering to their face, ¡°Hand over the one who killed Lorenz? Fuck off, that¡¯s never happening.¡±

    Ricardt stared nkly at the golden pin in his hand before asking.

    ¡°Does this mean we¡¯re going to war then?¡±

    Alter shook his head.

    ¡°Large-scale wars don¡¯t usually happen. Sure, there are some small skirmishes here and there, but that¡¯s it. This time, they started something serious, but they probably didn¡¯t expect it to turn out this way. They never imagined they¡¯d lose a n Master to a bunch of Academy students. So, the conclusion is, we¡¯ve agreed to return the prisoners without demanding any ransom. They took a huge loss, so we didn¡¯t press for anything more.¡±

    It meant that the negotiation had turned out rtively favorable for their side. For the time being, they wouldn¡¯t have to worry about attacks from the Rubens Guild whilepleting their requests.

    Of course, there was always a chance that those bastards might ignore the agreement and go rogue, but if they did, it would give other guilds a reason to attack them for viting the agreement. So, Ricardt and his group likely wouldn¡¯t be ambushed again.

    ¡°That bastard Lorenz, I¡¯d been meaning to tear him apart myself one day, but seeing his head cut off and burned wasn¡¯t bad either. Hehehe. And honestly, it was fucking satisfying. For me, I mean. I think most of the guys in the other branches would agree. But, you should be careful. The Rubens guys are definitely going to be out for revenge. So, wear a hood or something, and cover up that golden broli hair of yours.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t make my hair like this on purpose.¡±

    Ricardt said, touching his curly hair.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, back to business. You guys have work to do now, right? I wanted to let you rest for a few more days, but time is crucial when ites to chasing down fugitives. Split yourselves into three teams, and follow the people I assign to you.¡±

    Ricardt and the students looked at each other. It was time to split up. There seemed to be a fleeting sense of regret.

    ¡°Can¡¯t we just work together?¡±

    Volka asked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mess around. Fighting and working are two different things. Stop talking back and go learn by watching. Here, this is an advance payment. Normally, students don¡¯t get one, but I¡¯m giving it to you because you guys are cute. I took it out of my own paycheck, understand?¡±

    The pot-bellied branch manager tossed money pouches onto the table one by one. Volka quickly grabbed them.

    ¡°Anyway, once you finish your work and head back to the Academy, we¡¯ll see each other again. If things get dangerous, use my guys as your shields. Just don¡¯t die. Now go. Head back to the inn and wait.¡±

    Branch Manager Alter waved his hand as if to shoo them away, seemingly embarrassed by his own words. Ricardt couldn¡¯t help but smile. What a cute old man.

    Ricardt and the students came out of the witch-house-like building. And they looked at each other again.

    ¡°Are we really splitting up like before?¡±

    One of the female students asked. But no one seemed eager to answer right away, until Molty spoke up with a suggestion.

    ¡°How about we mix things up?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s shuffle the teams. Don¡¯t you like that idea?¡±

    In other words, instead of sticking to their original three groups, Molty was proposing to mix the members and form three new teams.

    ¡°I mean, I¡¯m fine with it¡­¡±

    Volka muttered, uncertain. Surprisingly, Ice was the first to step up.

    ¡°I want to team with Ricky.¡±

    Everyone¡¯s eyes widened as they stared at him.

    ¡°What? You said to mix, right? I¡¯m with Ricky.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Then I¡¯m with Lara.¡±

    Molty said, pointing to one of the female students, as if he had been waiting for this moment. Lara blinked in surprise, then awkwardly lowered her head, ncing around nervously.

    While Ricardt wasn¡¯t sure what was going on, Volka hurriedly pointed at the other remaining female student.

    ¡°I¡¯m with Delphi.¡±

    ¡°What, we don¡¯t get a right to refuse?¡±

    Delphi frowned, clearly displeased, unlike Lara.

    ¡°There¡¯s no such thing.¡±

    Ice cut in bluntly. Who do you think you are?

    In any case, after everyone had chosen their teammates, the remaining students were split into three groups of three. Coincidentally, with nine people, the numbers worked out perfectly.

    Ricardt ended up in a different group from Volka and Molty, teaming up with Ice and a male student who had been sticking close to the female students. His name was Falen.

    Falen looked somewhat intimidated, and for good reason¡ªhe was now stuck between Ice and Ricardt. It felt like being sandwiched between two monsters. Weren¡¯t these two ranked first and second?

    While Ricardt and Ice didn¡¯t seem to care at all, Falen fidgeted nervously before awkwardly trying to make conversation.

    ¡°You guys are lucky, getting to pick the girls you wanted.¡±

    Ricardt and Ice both turned to look at him. They stared at him in silence, their faces nk. Falen began to sweat, wondering if he¡¯d said something wrong.

    In truth, Ricardt and Ice simply didn¡¯t know how to respond.

    While waiting in the inn, the Beringen Academy students chatted andughed. They seemed more rxed now. The fear of facing something new or unknown had somewhat faded.

    They joked and teased each other, throwing their heads back inughter. Things that would have once triggered sharp reactions now were brushed off with ease and humor.

    After experiencing major challenges, they hade to realize that things they used to react to sensitively weren¡¯t actually a big deal.

    Sometimes, hardship and adversity can break a person, bringing them despair. But oveing those obstacles often makes you stronger and more resilient.

    People called that growth, and perhaps the students were taking a step closer to bing adults.

    Their lives may have been surrounded by violence, blood, battles, and the deaths ofrades, but that didn¡¯t mean they had to live in constant gloom or give in to those things.

    Ricardt liked this feeling¡ªwatching the boys and girls grow. It made him wonder, what about himself? The question lingered, but he decided it didn¡¯t really matter.

    He wasn¡¯t sure if there had been a need for war the hundred years ago, but watching this was undeniably heartwarming. Back then, there hadn¡¯t been anything like an Academy.

    For a moment, he wondered what it would have been like if there had been an Academy back then. Even if he didn¡¯t have a family, it would¡¯ve been nice to have friends like these.

    Still, in the end, it was Ricardt himself who had led them to this point of growth. It was a deeply satisfying thought. It felt like something worth risking his life for.

 Chapter 28

    Chapter 28

    Trantor: Willia

    Ricardt, Ice, and Falen followed the senior adventurers and headed south again.

    While Beringen was in the northeastern frontier, Torveil was on the eastern frontier, and the roads weren¡¯t as well-maintained.

    To the east, a majestic mountain range stretched from north to south, cutting across the continent, towering over thend as if looking down upon it.

    A breeze that started from the high peaks, where eternal snowy, blew toward Ricardt and hispanions. It was refreshingly cool, to the point where one might wonder if summer would evere.

    ¡°By the way, who¡¯s the kid named Ricky?¡±

    One of the four senior adventurers ahead spoke. He was a man with a distinctivelyrge hooked nose.

    ¡°That¡¯s me.¡±

    Ricardt, wearing the hood of his red cloak, raised his hand.

    ¡°Huh¡­ You¡¯re quite different from what I expected. I heard you killed that wolf bastard, so I thought you¡¯d be a big, arrogant guy.¡±

    ¡°You must be pretty tough, huh?¡±

    ¡°Not sure.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s just that¡­ Look out for us a bit. We¡¯re pretty weak, you know. Still, we¡¯re from the same academy.¡±

    Although the concept of seniors and juniors existed, the hierarchy between them wasn¡¯t that strict. And in this field, there was a saying: The one who fights better is the senior.

    Ricardt simply smiled faintly at the senior adventurers from the academy, who were talking so humbly. He could sense that they were actually quite strong.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a relief. I was worried you might be a loose cannon. If you¡¯re the one who killed the Wolf, we wouldn¡¯t be able to handle you.¡±

    ¡°By the way, how old are you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m 11.¡±

    At the mention of 11, all four adventurers ahead turned sharply. Their eyes were wide open in surprise.

    Ricardt had developed a bit faster than his peers, so even though he was still young, they hadn¡¯t expected him to be just 11.

    ¡°¡­Is that even possible?¡±

    ¡°What is?¡±

    ¡°No, I mean¡­ What was I doing at 11?¡±

    ¡°You were getting your ass kicked in the henhouse, remember?¡±

    ¡°That was before I even went into the henhouse. Oh right, I was just getting beaten the hell out of by my father. My brother would hit me, then I¡¯d go outside and get hit again.¡±

    ¡°By the way, this kid¡¯s really good-looking. What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Ice.¡±

    Perhaps because they were strangers, Ice responded coldly. The adventurers quickly sensed that they shouldn¡¯t try to engage him in conversation. This one¡¯s going to be trouble.

    However, they didn¡¯t take offense and smoothly shifted the topic.

    ¡°Ricky, if you¡¯re 11 now, let¡¯s see¡­ By the time you turn 15 and reach adulthood, you might be one of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords.¡±

    ¡°Come on, that¡¯s not possible.¡±

    ¡°You took down Wolf¡¯s head at 11, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°¡­I guess.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    Ricardt interrupted the conversation to ask.

    ¡°If you¡¯re going to be an adventurer, you should know some basics about this field. The Nine Swords of the Empire are the nine best swordsmen in the Empire. It¡¯s not an official title, but people just call them that. There are the four champions of the Emperor, Steiner, the leader of the Ernberg Five, the ¡®Nameless¡¯ X, ¡®Iron Arm¡¯ Randell¡­ Let¡¯s see, how many are left¡­ one, two¡­¡±

    ¡°Anyway, two of them live in the west, so you don¡¯t need to worry about them. You¡¯ll probably never go that far in your lifetime.¡±

    ¡°Ah, shit, what were their names again¡­¡±

    ¡°Are those people Sword Masters?¡±

    Falen, who was more curious than Ricardt, asked the question.

    ¡°The title is just Nine Swords. Not all of them use swords. The Emperor¡¯s champions are definitely Sword Masters, but two of them are old and apparently on the verge of death. As for the rest, we don¡¯t know. We¡¯ve never seen them. The territories where the Nine Swords operate are ces where adventurers can¡¯t easily wander. It¡¯s their territory, after all.¡±

    The way they talked about ¡°territory¡± made it sound like they were wild animals. Then again, there were many aspects of the human world that weren¡¯t much different from the wild.

    In the wild, enemies that posed a threat to survival were usually killed outright. Just as lions killed hyenas or other predators, if adventurers strayed into their territory, it wouldn¡¯t simply end with a warning.

    Perhaps the essence of justification in fighting is about eliminatingpetitors¡ªwhether it¡¯s a power struggle, a war, or even a trivial knife fight.

    ¡°Anyway, that¡¯s the gist of it. Hey, Ricky, if you¡¯re born a man, shouldn¡¯t you aim to be the best? Don¡¯t you have that kind of ambition? The Empire¡¯s 9 Swords, Golden Broli Ricky!¡±

    Ricardt let out a smallugh. He thought all of that was just hollow fame.

    Honestly, having been called all sorts of titles in his previous life, he wasn¡¯t particrly impressed by such things anymore. Murderer of murderers, devil of devils, the Iron Reaper, and so on¡­

    Come to think of it, though, all those names had struck fear into people, be they barbarians or imperial citizens. But unlike those titles, the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords were revered. In that sense, it seemed a bit better¡­

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know. If we could make it the Empire¡¯s Ten Swords, the number would feel moreplete and satisfying.¡±

    ¡°Ooooh!¡±

    ¡°As expected from the guy who killed Wolf, he thinks on another level.¡±

    ¡°Wow, fuck. So, we¡¯re hanging out with the future 10th Sword of the Empire? If you be one of the Ten Swords, wouldn¡¯t that make you a guild master? So save me a spot.¡±

    ¡°No, I brought up the Nine Swords first, so I get dibs.¡±

    ¡°Firste, first served.¡±

    ¡°This bastard always acts so annoyingly like this.¡±

    ¡°Fuck off.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯d you say?¡±

    ¡°Hey, hey, hey! You two, knock it off! Not again. There are kids here.¡±

    For some reason, two of the adventurers were about to fight, so the other two quickly stepped in to stop them. It was kind of ridiculous, but these people still had a bit of immaturity about them, likely because they weren¡¯t much older.

    They were all in their early twenties, adventurers who had only recently finished their three-year active period after graduating from the academy. Fortunately, though, they weren¡¯t bad people. But Ricardt couldn¡¯t help but wonder, was there really anything to learn from them?

    Luckily, there were things to learn. First of all, the reason the guild had requested support from academy students wasn¡¯t due to any major issue; they simply needed to search arge area.

    So they just needed more manpower, and therefore, the job itself wasn¡¯t dangerous.

    However, because they didn¡¯t know what the desperate deserters might do, it couldn¡¯t be consideredpletely safe either.

    In any case, what Ricardt learned as a student from these veteran adventurers were skills like gathering information, tracking, and buildingmunicationworks.

    After all, in his past life, he had always worked alone aside from his military experience, so he wasn¡¯t very familiar with the organizational and managerial aspects.

    Gathering information wasn¡¯t too difficult. People in rural areas, unlike city folk, were usually born and raised in the same ce and rarely left their hometown, so they tended to notice and remember strangers.

    So, when asked if they¡¯d seen anyone suspicious recently, they were almost always able to provide urate answers.

    After three days of tracking, they finally caught up to one of the deserters. However, there was a problem.

    ¡°Hey, you fucking bastards! Don¡¯te any closer!¡±

    At the entrance of a dpidated hut stood a man in tattered clothes, holding a young girl hostage. He had a crude knife pressed against the girl¡¯s delicate neck, staging a hostage situation. That was the problem.

    The vigers had gathered around in a crowd, watching the scene, and the girl¡¯s mother had copsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrobly.

    ¡°Oh, please! Please! Just take me instead!¡±

    But the girl, oblivious to the situation she was in, was just staring nkly, not understanding what was happening.

    ¡°Ah, fuck¡­¡±

    One of the adventurers leading Ricardt muttered a curse. Normally, he was yful and cheerful, but now his face was genuinely irritated. After a moment of swearing to himself, he shouted out loudly.

    ¡°Hey! Put the knife down! What are you gonna do, holding a kid hostage? You¡¯re dead already! You bastard!¡±

    ¡°Yeah? Then it might as well be worth it to take this kid with me! Come on! Come at me!¡±

    ¡°Haa! Fucking¡­ Shit. Ha¡­¡±

    The adventurer cursed continuously, as if his blood pressure was about to make him drop dead. There were no good options. Either sacrifice the girl or let the deserter go.

    In reality, sacrificing the girl wouldn¡¯t cause much of an issue. It was an era where the death of a peasant girl living in a rural vige wouldn¡¯t stir much concern. Letting the deserter escape, however, could lead to bigger problems.

    However, the adventurers knew it wasn¡¯t the right thing to do as human beings, which was why it was such a headache.

    ¡°What the hell do we do?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea, fuck¡­¡±

    Ricardt, Ice, and Falen stood some distance away, merely observing. If a fight were to break out, they would have helped, but right now, there didn¡¯t seem to be a solution.

    ¡°Maybe we could shoot him with an arrow or something¡­¡±

    Falen muttered. But there was neither a suitable bow nor a skilled archer nearby. And more importantly, the girl could get hurt.

    At that moment, Ricardt, after quietly observing, approached the senior adventurer.

    ¡°Should I try talking to him?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ Well, do whatever you want.¡±

    The adventurer didn¡¯t say anything like ¡°This isn¡¯t your ce.¡± He seemed so frustrated by the situation that he had practically given up. The only thing left was deciding whether to make a move or not.

    With permission, Ricardt removed his hood and started walking towards the deserter with steady steps.

    ¡°Hey! Fuck! I said don¡¯te any closer! That sword on your shoulder! Drop it! I said drop it!¡±

    After getting a bit closer, Ricardt calmly removed the sword from his shoulder and tossed it far away. He also threw his dagger aside. To show that he had nothing left, he opened his cloak wide for the deserter to see.

    ¡°What the hell, you little brat? What¡¯s with that hair? Are you making fun of me? Huh?!¡±

    Only after Ricardt had discarded his weapons did the deserter seem to really see him. That¡¯s how tense the deserter was at the moment. One wrong move, and the girl could die in a split second.

    ¡°I¡¯m not mocking you. I just want to talk.¡±

    ¡°Talk about what? I¡¯ve got nothing to say! Just let me go! Let me go, damn it! I want to go home! I don¡¯t even need the three months of overdue pay! I just want to go home! I want to see my mother!¡±

    The deserter was almost crying as he shouted. Ricardt silently listened, waiting until he had vented all his frustration.

    Once the deserter¡¯s breath became ragged, and he was panting from exhaustion, Ricardt finally spoke.

    ¡°Where was your post?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m asking where the battlefield was.¡±

    ¡°¡­Raeldorf. Why?¡±

    ¡°Was the winter cold?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°No matter how thick your boots were, didn¡¯t your feet swell up from the dampness inside?¡±

    ¡°¡­How¡­ how do you know that?¡±

    ¡°Sometimes you have a good day, but most of them are tough, right? Arade you were joking withst night dies in the morning. Moldy bread, rotten fruit. You try to sleep it off with some alcohol, but the nightmares just won¡¯t go away. Isn¡¯t that right?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    The deserter¡¯s eyes widened, and he blinked in disbelief.

    Everyone else present thought of the deserter as just a crazy man. But Ricardt wasn¡¯t like them. He understood. He understood the pain and sorrow that man must have felt.

    Losing limbs or suffering physical injury was bearable. What was truly unbearable on the battlefield was the destruction of one¡¯s mind. Ricardt knew this better than anyone. He had experienced it firsthand.

    That¡¯s why Ricardt felt a sense of shared pain with the deserter.

    ¡°The worst part is those shitty orders from higher-ups who don¡¯t even know the situation on the ground, right? You follow orders knowing it¡¯s a mistake, and people end up dead. Booze, gambling, women¡ªthere¡¯s a limit to how much those can numb the pain. But it¡¯s not because you¡¯re weak. It¡¯s because you¡¯re a good person. You just didn¡¯t belong on the battlefield.¡±

    The deserter, as if hypnotized, fell into a daze. He blinked repeatedly, then shook his head, then went back to that dazed state. It was as if he were dreaming with his eyes wide open.

    ¡°So, you don¡¯t need to do this. Let the girl go. Her mother over there is crying. She must be in so much pain right now. The girl has done nothing wrong. Don¡¯t you agree?¡±

    The deserter stared ahead. But his eyes were unfocused. It was as if he wasn¡¯t looking at Ricardt, but at something beyond him.

    He wasn¡¯t looking at the people around him either. His gaze seemed to stretch far past the horizon, across time, into the past. Yet, he couldn¡¯t fully escape the terrible memories of that past. There must have been a time when he was innocent too.

    Finally, as if all the strength had left his body, the deserter¡¯s arm, which had been holding the girl tightly, fell limp. He stood there in a daze for a moment before suddenly snapping to attention and shouting loudly.

    ¡°Raise your spears! Hup! Spears forward! Hup! 7th Infantry! Ready! Match your steps! One! Two! One! Two! Thrust! Huaa! Thrust! Huaa!¡±

    He was no longer human. He was a broken machine.

    And that broken machine, without a second of hesitation, drove his crude knife deep into his own neck. It was as if he were following orders.

    ¡°For God and the Empire! Glory to the Crown Mercenary Corps!¡±

    Thud!

    He copsed, rigid, his head mming against the ground. His eyes were wide open, his mouth agape, and blood spilled across the earth. His body trembled violently for a moment, then went limp.

    A chilling silence descended upon the scene. The wind that swept through felt colder than ever. Ricardt approached the deserter, closing his eyes and shutting his gaping mouth.

    He took the girl¡¯s hand and walked her back. Everyone who had gathered¡ªboth children and adults¡ªstared at Ricardt with expressions as if they had seen a ghost. Was it magic? Was it some kind of mental magic?

    Ricardt led the girl back to her mother. Her mother, who had been crying earlier, was now staring wide-eyed at Ricardt, utterly speechless. The scene had been so shocking that she had forgotten her daughter had been close to death just moments ago.

    Ricardt stepped away from the crowd and began walking.

    ¡°Ricky.¡±

    Ice called out to him. But Ricardt didn¡¯t respond, his eyes unfocused, his steps unsteady. He looked like a puppet with its strings cut.

    The eerie atmosphere was so overwhelming that even the senior adventurers didn¡¯t dare call out to or stop him. Falen hurriedly picked up Ricardt¡¯s sword and dagger, whichy scattered on the ground.

    Ricardt waspletely dazed, a ringing sound echoing in his ears. Mentally, this was far more exhausting than the fight in the forest. It wasn¡¯t even aparison.

    Right now, he just wanted to be alone. So he walked, aimlessly, further and further away.

    And with that, the eventful deserter request waspleted.

 Chapter 29

    Chapter 29

    Trantor: Willia

    A bonfire was zing in the ruins by the roadside, and nine people were sitting around it. It was Ricardt¡¯s group, returning to Beringen.

    They were heading back to the academy, choosing a slightly longer route, avoiding the forest, which they didn¡¯t want to look at for a while.

    As they camped for the night, the students made themselvesfortable in their own ways.

    Somehow, Molty and Lara seemed to have gotten closer, sticking together like glue. Some were tending to their weapons, while others were roasting sweet potatoes and regr potatoes in the bonfire as snacks.

    Ricardt sat against a wall with his knees pulled together, gazing at a fragment of the night sky through a crack in the ruins.

    ¡°First, sense mana. Second, apply mana to physical activities. Third, use mana in realbat. Fourth, infuse your weapon with mana. Fifth, be a Sword Master and cut everything down with a sword that cuts anything. Is that right?¡±

    Volka¡¯sst remark was a joke, but in any case, these five steps were the Beringen Guild¡¯s ssification for reaching the level of a Sword Master.

    Compared to the more poetic Rubens Guild, it was a bit dry, but at least it was a more detailed breakdown.

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    Jerome, who had been poking a potato in the fire with a stick to check if it was cooked, answered. He used to hang out with Ice in the past.

    Perhaps because they¡¯d gone through life-and-death situations together, they were now sharing things that they had previously kept hidden and wouldn¡¯t teach.

    But listening to it like this, it didn¡¯t seem like there was much to hide. Knowing it in your head didn¡¯t make it possible. That¡¯s why the professor only taught those students who could sense mana.

    ¡°You can somehow practice up to the second step on your own, but from the third step onward, it gets really hard.¡±

    Lara, who had tied her bobbed hair back, said. By now, she was almostpletely nestled in Molty¡¯s huge arms.

    ¡°Yeah, whether it¡¯s mana or whatever, I can¡¯t focus at all.¡±

    Handling mana required a high degree of concentration. Therefore, it was incredibly difficult to focus on mana while des were whizzing around in front of you, and your life was on the line.

    That¡¯s why, except for Ice, none of the students here had reached the third step. But Ice was at the fourth stage.

    And even he had almost died in realbat, showing how truly difficult and dangerous it was to walk the path of the sword.

    ¡°But Ricky is strong even without handling mana, right? If you¡¯re not aiming to be a Sword Master, does mana really matter that much?¡±

    Molty said, and everyone turned to look at Ricardt. Ricardt, who had been staring off nkly, snapped back to his senses.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. Just saying you¡¯re good at fighting.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡±

    ¡°So, is mana more important, or is swordsmanship more important? It¡¯s tough¡­ really tough¡­¡±

    Both were important. It wasn¡¯t like only one mattered. However, the idea was about choice and focus. But did they even have the option to choose? Volka, who couldn¡¯t even sense mana, worried about such things.

    ¡°In my opinion, if you master swordsmanship to the extreme, mana might not even matter. A well-sharpened sword alone is enough to kill your opponent.¡±

    ¡°But they say the Sword of Light cuts through anything. That means it can cut through armor and shields alike. Even if you master swordsmanship to the extreme, I don¡¯t think you can win against a Sword Master. It seems like the fight itself wouldn¡¯t even be fair.¡±

    ¡°That depends on how you define ¡®extreme.¡¯ If you can dodge all of a Sword Master¡¯s attacks and onlynd your own, wouldn¡¯t swordsmanship win?¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s not like a Sword Master would bepletely ignorant of swordsmanship.¡±

    ¡°True, but I¡¯m talking about when you¡¯ve mastered swordsmanship to the absolute limit.¡±

    ¡°So, what exactly is that ¡®extreme¡¯ you¡¯re talking about?¡±

    Volka and Delphi were going back and forth as if they were debating. Molty, watching them, thought to himself, ¡°That¡¯s why they can¡¯t date.¡±

    But, as expected of students from the Adventurers¡¯ Guild, it was a topic that intrigued them.

    As the conversation between the two started to heat up, Molty pulled Ricardt back into the discussion. Despite his enormous build, Molty had a surprisingly sensitive nature and tended to mediate conflicts between people.

    ¡°Ricky, what do you think?¡±

    ¡°¡­Huh?¡±

    ¡°Between someone who can¡¯t handle mana but has mastered swordsmanship to the extreme, and a Sword Master. Who do you think would win?¡±

    ¡°Well, I think both are meaningless. It sounds like a word game to me.¡±

    The first Sword Master, the legendary murderer who shocked the world, a one-man army. That was Ricardt¡¯s past life, but he himself had little interest in swordsmanship or being a Sword Master.

    That was because he didn¡¯t know where the golden mes that burned along the de came from, nor had he ever formally learned swordsmanship from anyone.

    Compared to his skills in his past life, his current abilities were nearly at an ant¡¯s level. However, he had mastered something in his own way, so whether he was weak or ufortable, he disyed the best swordsmanship possible in each situation, which was why he had no rivals thus far.

    Because of this, Ricardt thought other people were a bit foolish. Why do people practice things like that? Is it something you can only do if you practice? Can¡¯t you just do it without training?

    In this regard, it was impressive that Volka, after getting beaten by Ricardt and experiencing his own breakthrough, hade to realize something. Ricardt, after all, had no talent for teaching others.

    In any case, Ricardt didn¡¯t have the mental space to worry about such things now. He was trying to calm the frustration and resentment that had built up like poison inside him after the deserter incident.

    Molty, somewhat disappointed by Ricardt¡¯s nd answer, turned his attention to his next target: Ice.

    Coincidentally, Ricardt and Ice were ranked first and second in the group. One couldn¡¯t sense mana at all, while the other had mastered the Mana Drive at an advanced level.

    ¡°Ice, what do you think?¡±

    ¡°The Sword Master would win.¡±

    Ice replied decisively, without even thinking.

    ¡°Oh? Why? What¡¯s the reason?¡±

    ¡°Because only those who sense mana and reach the extreme in swordsmanship can be Sword Masters.¡±

    ¡°Clear and concise. Well, you heard it?¡±

    Molty said, looking at Volka and Delphi. ording to Ice¡¯s answer, Volka had lost the debate.

    ¡°I was just curious.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I was just wondering too.¡±

    There was a slightly awkward tension between Volka and Delphi.

    But whether they cared or not, Ice spoke again to Ricardt, who had returned to gazing absentmindedly through the crack in the ruined house.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°¡­Huh?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m asking if you¡¯re okay.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Yeah, I¡¯m fine. Nothing¡¯s wrong.¡±

    ¡°Hey, Ricky.¡±

    ¡°Yeah? Go ahead.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve been through in the past, and I won¡¯t ask, just like how you don¡¯t ask me about my past. But I just hope you can pull yourself together.¡±

    Ricardt, who had been zoning out ever since the deserter incident, finally let out a slight smile.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to say something like that.¡±

    Since Ice wasn¡¯t one to talk much, he simply smiled back in response.

    But because he was so handsome, his smile, on his usually cold face, was more beautiful than moonlight. It was enough to make two female students gasp unintentionally.

    ¡°Fucking cheater. Damn it.¡±

    Volka grumbled, which made the students around him burst intoughter.

    The next day, Ricardt and his group continued their journey toward Beringen. Along the way, when there were no cities nearby, they spent the night in vige barns or were even hosted by a rural lord.

    There wasn¡¯t any particr reason for the hospitality, except that the lord had been satisfied with the work of the Beringen Adventurers¡¯ Guild in the past when he had ced requests with them. Though they were confused, they didn¡¯t mind the treatment. The honeyed wine, freshly roasted meat, and soft bread did wonders to relieve their travel fatigue.

    Since there were nine of them, all well-armed, they passed through dangerous roads without any trouble. They didn¡¯t encounter any highway robbers, and even bandits only watched them from a distance.

    It wasn¡¯t just because of their weapons or their numbers. There was something about their atmosphere, an aura that seemed to warn others to stay away.

    The students hadpletely transformed since the time they first left to support their initial request. Their gaze,posure, breathing, and mindset¡ªeverything had changed. It was clear in the way they calmly stared down thugs without flinching or looking away.

    While they might not yet be lions or tigers, they exuded the aura of wolves, capable of overpowering most low-level threats.

    And in fact, being an adventurer was nothing other than being private detectives or frencew enforcers. Just by passing through an area, they had the effect of stabilizing the local peace to some degree.

    It¡¯s strange how life works¡ªthere are always pros and cons. Sure, it was a dark reality that students often lost their lives, but when you saw moments like these, there was something positive about it, too.

    Anyway, after five days of walking, they finally arrived in Beringen. As they entered the guild¡¯s headquarters at the bottom of the hill, the adventurers inside looked at them with curiosity. They had unintentionally be famous.

    ¡°Are you guys just extraordinary, or has our overall level gone up? Either way, you all did great. When I first heard the news, I couldn¡¯t believe it. You actually killed that scumbag Lorenz.¡±

    Dunkel spoke. Oddly, he wasn¡¯t behind the bar this time but seated at a table, lightly armed. He was wearing a leather vest and a dark brown hooded cloak.

    ¡°That guy made a fatal mistake messing with the Ranger vige.¡±

    ¡°He probably didn¡¯t know the situation there very well. It was a surprise attack, after all. In any case, when things go wrong, you need to pull out quickly. If you drag things on too long, that¡¯s how you end up like him. He must¡¯ve been desperate, though. Anyway, wee back. But, Ricky, what¡¯s up with your hair?¡±

    ¡°It got singed by fire.¡±

    Ricardt¡¯s hair had grown a little since then, making him look even more like a broli than before. He figured he¡¯d have to shave it all off soon.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you working the bar today?¡±

    Volka asked.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve got some business to take care of.¡±

    Dunkel looked meaningfully at Ice for a moment, then turned his gaze to Ricardt.

    ¡°The Master wants to see you, Ricky.¡±

    ¡°Me? Why?¡±

    ¡°Why do you think? You¡¯re the main hero of this whole affair. You all can rest in the city for a bit, take your time returning to your lodgings. Just don¡¯t blow too much money at the gambling houses or brothels. It¡¯s not time to be buying expensive equipment yet. Ricky,e with me.¡±

    Dunkel stood up and led Ricardt out of the building, heading up the hill. It was Ricardt¡¯s first time entering the central city.

    As they passed through the gates, he noticed many clean, old buildings lined up. They were mostly used for lodging in peacetime but could be converted into defense structures during wartime, sitting close to the city walls.

    When they arrived at the ¡®real¡¯ Beringen Guild headquarters, it wasn¡¯t the grandiose building Ricardt had imagined. In fact, parts of the outer walls were peeling, revealing patches of exposed brick.

    ¡°Young lord.¡±

    Just before entering the building, Dunkel addressed Ricardt differently than usual.

    ¡°¡­Huh?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s an elder inside, and he¡¯s a nobleman himself, so be especially mindful of your words and actions. Most importantly, never evade his questions or lie. No matter what you try, you won¡¯t be able to deceive him.¡±

    Elder? Not the Guild Master?

    ¡°I don¡¯t lie, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Good. Then go on in.¡±

    Dunkel opened the door but did not follow. Ricardt entered the building alone, and it felt like stepping into a temple with all the chairs removed. It was a ce where sounds echoed loudly.

    Clunk.

    The door closed behind him. Standing there alone in such a vast, empty ce gave him an inexplicably strange feeling.

    Thud. Thud. Thud¡­

    Ricardt walked slowly, looking around as he went. The only light inside came from outside, casting a faint, serene atmosphere since nomps had been lit within.

    ¡°You¡¯re smaller than I expected, young lord.¡±

    From a distant spot, someone whose upper body was shrouded in shadow spoke, their hands sped behind their back. A sword hung at their waist. The voice was somewhat aged, and despite the echoing nature of the space, the quiet words were perfectly clear.

    ¡°Hello, I am Ricardt of the Caldebern family.¡±

    For the first time since leaving his home, Ricardt introduced himself formally. He wasn¡¯t intimidated, nor did he force himself to appear overly confident.

    ¡°I am Heuman, Court Count of Kelbron and Emperor¡¯s Champion. You may speak freely.¡±

    A Court Count held a higher rank than a regr Count, being someone who managed the Emperor¡¯snds in his stead. In other words, this man outranked not only Ricardt¡¯s father but also the entire Caldebern household.

    However, regardless of rank, nobles had the right to speak to one another as equals. A noble withmon sense would act that way. Only royalty or members of the imperial family could truly set themselves apart from other nobles.

    And the title ¡°Emperor¡¯s Champion¡± implied that he was a Sword Master.

    Most people would have fainted upon hearing this and immediately bowed down, but Ricardt remained calm.

    ¡°You said you wanted to see me.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. I wanted to see you with my own eyes. The promising talent who, at the age of eleven, beheaded a formidable opponent.¡±

    Ricardt had heard this often on his way here, but it seemed that Lorenz had quite the notorious reputation.

    ¡°I just got lucky.¡±

    ¡°Luck is also a skill.¡±

    ¡°If you say so, then I guess that¡¯s true.¡±

    At Ricardt¡¯s reply, Heuman fell silent for a moment, then slowly stepped out from the shadows, his footsteps echoing in the chamber.

    He had a striking appearance, with neatlybed white hair pulled back. Despite clearly being old, his skin was as wless as porcin, making it difficult to describe precisely.

    His eyes were a sharp blue, and he naturally emanated an aura that, while powerful, was kept carefully restrained.

    He approached Ricardt and, keeping a slight distance, stared at him intently.

    ¡°How peculiar. Even a meremoner has a tiny bit of mana, but you, young lord, don¡¯t have a single drop of mana.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ I see¡­¡±

    Ricardt honestly had no idea what to make of this observation.

    ¡°It¡¯s a naturalw that without a seed, nothing can sprout. If you cannot wield mana, you cannot be a Sword Master. Does that not bother you?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not really sure.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±

    From Heuman¡¯s perspective, Ricardt appeared tock ambition and showed no pure desire to be stronger.

    Though outwardly just a young boy, it seemed as though he had merely been born with a natural talent for handling a sword.

    A hint of disappointment briefly flickered across Heuman¡¯s face. As he had said, without the ability to control mana, bing a Sword Master was impossible.

    Still, the fact that a noble had joined the academy was rare, and Ricardt had aplished something noteworthy, so Heuman decided to engage him in conversation, even if only lightly.

    Smiling gently, as if he were speaking to a grandson, Heuman asked,

    ¡°Do you know how old I am, young lord?¡±

    ¡°To be honest, you¡¯re quite hard to gauge.¡±

    ¡°Hahaha, even the Empress Dowager often says that. I am 122 years old this year.¡±

    This was the one part that managed to surprise Ricardt. Could someone live that long? And in such good health? For a moment, he wondered if Heuman was joking.

    Seeing Ricardt¡¯s reaction, Heuman smiled even more warmly. How cute.

    ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe, but it¡¯s true. I¡¯ve lived in semi-retirement for so long that most people think my son is the Court Count. Or maybe it¡¯s my grandson now¡­ or was it my great-grandson? I¡¯m not sure. I don¡¯t really care. Anyway, I¡¯m one of the few alive who has personally seen the legendary Sword Master, Ricky. Isn¡¯t that amazing?¡±

    Wait, what? Ricardt scrutinized Heuman again. No matter how hard he searched his memory, nothing came to mind.

    ¡°¡­That is surprising.¡±

    ¡°I was originally born the son of a swordsmanship guild master in the region of Hilsen. There, I trained in martial arts with my siblings under my father¡¯s guidance. But one day, that Ricky came and killed my parents, my siblings, and all my rtives. I watched it all from inside a closet.¡±

    Ricardt had no idea how to respond. However, Heuman¡¯s next words were even more shocking.

    ¡°Yet I hold no grudge. Do you know why? It¡¯s because I had the privilege of witnessing his perfect swordsmanship. The golden mes dancing along his de, the blood spraying everywhere¡ªit was so beautiful, it brought me to tears. Ah, even now, when I think back on it, I still get chills.¡±

    To Ricardt, Heuman seemed slightly¡­ unhinged. He was so obsessed with the sword that he didn¡¯t seem to care about the deaths of his family. Maybe it was because he was so old.

    Heuman continued speaking.

    ¡°Every single sword strike was something I had never seen before, things I couldn¡¯t have even dreamed of. It was creative, yet not grotesque, and there were no missteps. From beginning to end, it felt like one continuous poem. What I¡¯ve always wondered is: did he n every move from the start, or was it all just brilliant improvisation? For 100 years, I¡¯ve been searching for that answer.¡±

    As Ricardt listened, a faint memory resurfaced. The Hilsen Sword Guild. They had tried to hunt him down to make a name for themselves, so he had attacked their base and killed them all.

    At the time, he thought he had wiped them all out, but apparently, he hadn¡¯t. Who would have thought someone was hiding? He hadn¡¯t bothered to search thoroughly back then.

    Meeting someone who had lived during his past life¡ªshould he feel d, or should he apologize? Ricardt wasn¡¯t sure what to say.

    Still, feeling a bit guilty, he wanted to offer an answer. Not that it was much of an answer, really. It was just recalling what had happened back then.

    ¡°Uh, well¡­ it¡¯s probably a bit of both.¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡±

    ¡°When he first stepped into the dojo, maybe he saw it all. How the fight would flow, what variables there might be, how to kill¡­ So, in reality, there was no thought, it just happened that way, and that¡¯s how you saw it, I think.¡±

    Ricardt answered, drawing from his memories of that time as best he could.

    Then, suddenly, Heuman stiffened, his body trembling as if struck by lightning.

 Chapter 30

    Chapter 30

    Trantor: Willia

    Some memories are so intense that they be etched in one¡¯s mind like a tattoo. The smells, colors, emotions from that time¡ªall of it could be vividly recalled.

    When that happens, it¡¯s not just a past event, but something that continues to live on. Even after a hundred years have passed.

    In his youth, Heuman had been quite talented. His physique was robust, making him well-suited for martial training.

    But at some point, Heuman began to feel an inexplicable frustration. Something elusive, just out of reach, tormented him.

    At the time, he thought it was because he had grown tired of practicing the same techniques every day. But that wasn¡¯t the case.

    Rumors about the unparalleled mass murderer, Ricky, had been circting for several years. There were stories that he had single-handedly killed famous knights, swordsmen, and even elite assassination squads sent by the Emperor.

    Was that even possible? Surely it was just nonsense, right? But the stories about him continued to spread relentlessly, and eventually, even Heuman¡¯s family sought to kill Ricky to make a name for themselves.

    Then, one day, it happened. Late at night, someone kicked down the door of the guild building, shattering it as they barged in.

    Heuman¡¯s father, his brothers, rtives, and the disciples training at the dojo all looked on in shock as they watched him. Heuman, too, stood among the crowd, observing.

    The one who had barged in was none other than Ricky. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and eyes that zed with intensity.

    ¡°When you were buzzing around me like flies, you were so annoying. Now that I¡¯m standing right here before you, why is no one stepping forward?¡±

    He spoke in a rough, cracked voice, like metal grinding together. The young Heuman¡¯s heart pounded.

    Then, he quietly moved toward the wardrobe and hid, watching from inside. It was because, in that moment, he had instinctively realized something: everyone was going to die.

    ¡°H-Hold on. Calm down. I think there¡¯s been some sort of misunderstanding.¡±

    His father stepped forward, trying to reason with him. But what came in response was not words, but a lightning-fast sh of a sword. His father¡¯s head was severed before he could even react.

    As his father¡¯s body copsed to the ground, Ricky, already holding a greatsword, turned to the others and spoke.

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you all¡­¡±

    Seeing their father¡¯s corpse, his brothers lost theirposure. They were the first to charge at him. After them, the rest of the family and the disciples followed.

    Was it courage? Or was it simply an attempt to forget the unbearable terror they felt? To Heuman, it seemed like they had simply given up. Given up on their own lives. It looked foolish.

    In any case, Heuman witnessed everything up close. The picture-perfect swordsmanship. It wasn¡¯t just a technique for wielding a sword; it was art. It was so moving that tears welled up in his eyes, and he had to mp his mouth shut to suppress the sobs that threatened to escape.

    Amidst that overwhelming emotion, Heuman realized what had been frustrating him all this time. It was the question of how far one could go with a single sword.

    A level of swordsmanship so high that his narrow-minded father and foolish brothers could never have imagined. Ricky¡¯s sword was a pinnacle¡ªa summit one could spend a lifetime trying to reach.

    First, arge step to the right, followed by a powerful sh. Then a shift to the opposite side to create space, and again, the sword would strike like lightning, driving the enemies back. A slight retreat to make more space, another left sh, a thrust while parrying, using the bodies of the dead to block the enemies¡¯ movement, another right sh, and by then, a golden me would be rising along the de¡­

    With his eyes closed, Heuman recalled that scene and began to move ever so slightly, as if practicing some sort of ballroom dance. He muttered under his breath, ¡°Right, left, forward, back,¡± repeating the directions endlessly.

    Ricardt looked at Heuman with a dumbfounded expression. Unsure of when this strange behavior would end, he finally spoke up.

    ¡°Uh, excuse me¡­¡±

    ¡°Shh!¡±

    Heuman raised a finger to silence Ricardt and continued reenacting something from his imagination. No, it was something he was trying to emte. He had spent thest hundred years repeating those movements, desperately wanting to imitate them. But in the end, there had always been just a sliver of difference he couldn¡¯t close.

    Perhaps the memory wasn¡¯t something etched into his mind, but something he had carved into himself¡ªrelentlessly.

    After quite some time had passed, Heuman finally took a deep breath with his eyes closed and then opened them.

    ¡°Phew¡­ So, it was visible from the start¡­ Hm¡­¡±

    He fell into deep contemtion, his expression serious. Visible from the beginning, visible, seeing, not thinking, but seeing¡­¡­

    Heuman was deeply reflecting on the concept of ¡°seeing¡±¡ªperhaps the principle behind it, or its meaning. He didn¡¯t even notice Ricardt staring at him like he was some strange person.

    Unfortunately, Heuman didn¡¯te to a clear realization. He stopped just short of understanding, standing right at the precipice of insight but unable to grasp it fully. However, he wasn¡¯t frustrated or troubled by it.

    Because having something to ponder meant that, for the first time in a long while, something interesting had entered his otherwise dull life.

    Only then did Heuman turn to Ricardt.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been acting foolishly. Forgive me, young lord.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine¡­¡±

    ¡°Instead of standing around here like this, let¡¯s move to another ce. I invited you, and yet we¡¯ve been standing and talking. Follow me.¡±

    Heuman led Ricardt up a narrow spiral staircase, heading to some ce inside the building.

    It wasn¡¯t anything special, just an ordinary reception room. There was a window that offered a clear view of the city below, with a strikingly beautiful view of the cityscape from the hilltop.

    ¡°I don¡¯te to Beringen often, so I don¡¯t have much to offer in terms of hospitality.¡±

    Heuman said, sitting down on a hard wooden chair. Despite his age, he sat with an exceptionally upright posture.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡±

    ¡°While I was passing through for some business, I heard about you and became curious. It seems I¡¯ve unexpectedly gained something valuable.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m d I could help in some way, even if unintentionally.¡±

    ¡°Hahaha¡­ You are modest. Even without mana, having talent in swordsmanship is still a rare gift. I spent fifty years obsessing over swordsmanship, then another thirty years fixated solely on mana. And now, I¡¯vee full circle, back to where I started. Lately, I¡¯ve been thinking that mana might not be as important as we¡¯ve always believed. No matter how much mana you have, no matter how pure it is, the vessel that holds it is always limited. The Mana Drive has its clear limits. But the principles of swordsmanship are limitless.¡±

    It was a view that contrasted sharply with Ice¡¯s. Since Heuman had likely pondered it for a long time, perhaps he was right?

    However, when it came to determining which perspective was correct¡ªnot who was stronger¡ªit was hard to say. Even the im that the Mana Drive has clear limitations could be wrong.

    In any case, it wasn¡¯t a topic that particrly interested Ricardt.

    ¡°Is there something you desire? If it¡¯s within my power, I¡¯d like to fulfill your request.¡±

    Heuman asked.

    ¡°Hmm, I¡¯d like you to send a professor for ancient script. I¡¯ve been waiting for a long time, but no one¡¯s been appointed yet. And after I learn the ancient script, I¡¯d like to see something called the Codex.¡±

    At Ricardt¡¯s request, Heuman looked puzzled. He had expected the young man to ask for something like a famous sword, or at the very least, arge sum of money. If not that, perhaps he¡¯d ask fornd.

    ¡°May I ask why?¡±

    ¡°You know about the Eastern Expedition from about a hundred years ago, right? I heard the reason for that war was the Codex. I want to see for myself if the Codex was worth going to war over.¡±

    When he heard this, Heuman reacted the same way most others would. Why on earth are you curious about that?

    But since Ricardt was the one who was curious, it wasn¡¯t Heuman¡¯s ce to criticize.

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know the exact details myself, but I doubt the war was fought solely because of the Codex.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°As long as humans live on thisnd, war will always be inevitable. Don¡¯t you agree? Even now, in some region, whether for trivial or significant reasons, people are killing and being killed. And those rulers who dream of greatness¡ªthey will always seek to start great wars. It¡¯s how they create immortal legacies and secure their ce in history for eternity.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    Faced with such unexpected and absurd words, Ricardt felt his brain had momentarily shut down. Live forever? No way. And because of something like that, so many people had to be mentally and physically destroyed?

    ¡°I can send you a professor soon. But seeing the Codex might be difficult. It¡¯s in the royal archives. As for the Codex circting in public, it¡¯s hard to determine if they¡¯re genuine. Most of them are fakes. I¡¯ve seen it once myself, but since I don¡¯t know ancient script, I couldn¡¯t tell if it was really that important.¡±

    ¡°I see¡­ In any case, thank you. Finally, I¡¯ll be able to take lessons on ancient script.¡±

    ¡°Hahaha, to be honest, it¡¯s a bit ridiculous. When I was young, boys were deliberately kept from learning how to read. People believed that reading would make them weak. Looking back now, it seems there was some truth to that. But ancient script, huh. Hahaha¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s fine to treat it as a hobby.¡±

    ¡°Geniuses tend to have their quirks, don¡¯t they? But the reason I wanted to see you, apart from my curiosity about you, is that I also have a request.¡±

    ¡°Please, go ahead.¡±

    ¡°In the future, more and more nobles will enter the academy. The times have changed. People¡¯s thoughts have changed too. So I hope you will lead them well.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡±

    ¡°In my opinion, if you were able to kill a n master at the age of eleven, no one at the academy is likely to match you. I will be your patron, so if you need anything or find yourself in a difficult situation, feel free to contact me through Dunkel.¡±

    Having the Court Count and the Emperor¡¯s Champion as a patron was like obtaining a powerful benefactor. However, Ricardt didn¡¯t feel particrly moved.

    That¡¯s because he believed that whatever he needed, he could obtain on his own, and if he encountered any difficulties, he could resolve them by himself as well.

    Actually, there was something he needed. An idea suddenly popped into Ricardt¡¯s mind.

    ¡°There is something I need right now.¡±

    ¡°Oh? What is it?¡±

    ¡°Could you install a railing on the stairs leading to the academy? It¡¯s a bit dangerous if someone misses a step. Also, the student living quarters are a bit cramped. The professors live in the inner castle, but they don¡¯t stay there for long, so there¡¯s a lot of unused space. I think it would be better if the students could use that space.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it right away. Anything else?¡±

    For a Court Count, these requests were trivial matters. In any case, thanks to this, the students of the Beringen Academy would finally be able to escape their cramped henhouse living conditions.

    ¡°For now, that¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°As expected, noblesse oblige, huh. As a noble, you should naturally offer charity. I¡¯m starting to feel I¡¯ve chosen well. When I heard the news, I had a good feeling about you. When you reach my age, you develop a strong intuition. It¡¯s usually quite urate.¡±

    ¡°Then you must make a fortune in dice gambling.¡±

    Ricardt recalled and quoted something Arno had said before.

    Hearing the unexpected words, Heuman tilted his head back andughed heartily.

    ¡°What? Hahaha! I¡¯ve never thought of that before! Young lord! Hahaha!¡±

    Ricardt also smiled faintly. Although this old man seemed a bit out of his mind due to his obsession with the sword, his easygoing nature was something Ricardt found likable.

    And so, after his meeting with Heuman, Ricardt was finally able to return to the academy.

    About a week after Ricardt and the high-ranking students left the academy to assist with adventurers¡¯ requests, ominous news arrived at the academy.

    The news was that Ricardt, along with the other students, had been attacked by a rival guild and killed. The one most shocked by the news was Boribori.

    His heart pounded, and although he thought it couldn¡¯t be true, tears welled up and spilled from his eyes.

    ¡°N-no. That can¡¯t be. Ricky is too strong for that.¡±

    Given the times, misinformation was often spread, so at first, even the other students didn¡¯t entirely believe the news.

    Since news from the outside world didn¡¯t reach the academy quickly, the rumor that Ricardt¡¯s group had died in Torveil gradually became epted as fact within the academy during their stay there.

    As a result, the students¡¯ attitudes toward Boribori subtly began to change.

    One day, while Boribori was resting in his bed, a student approached him.

    ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Switch ces with me.¡±

    Boribori had originally been assigned to a bed on the second level of a bunk, near the middle of the room, next to Ricardt. The fact that he was staying there, without any rank, would have been impossible without Ricardt.

    ¡°Oh¡­ alright.¡±

    Knowing this, Boribori quietly gave up hid spot. He gathered his belongings and climbed down from the bed, all the while feeling the stares from others around him. They weren¡¯t kind looks.

    After switching ces and just finishing organizing his things, another student came up to him.

    ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Switch ces.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ Ah, okay.¡±

    Once again, Boribori packed up everything he had just unpacked and moved. But as soon as he finished unpacking again, yet another student demanded he move.

    In this way, even when it wasn¡¯t necessary, he was repeatedly pushed farther to the outer edges of the room.

    But this was only the beginning. The surrounding students, slyly, began to increase the intensity of their bullying, bit by bit.

    At first, it was just light jabs or shoves. Then, they began pinching him as he passed by, stealing his personal belongings, and eventually, they threw the shoes Ricardt had bought him off the cliff.

    Boribori had to climb down the cliff and search everywhere for those shoes. From morning until evening, it took him the entire day. When he finally found them, the students threw the shoes off the cliff again.

    The bullying escted endlessly. They used every cruel method they could think of to torment him both mentally and physically.

    They would drag him off somewhere and force him to close him eyes and open him mouth, only to make him eat bugs. If he couldn¡¯t eat properly and spat out, they would gang up on him and beat him. They kept him from sleeping by making him take endless night watch shifts, and they even stole the money he needed for tuition.

    The saddest part was that it wasn¡¯t the high-ranking students who were bullying him, but rather the so-called ¡°lower ss¡± students who had no rank¡ªthose in a simr situation to him.

    They hadn¡¯t been on bad terms with Boribori before, but as soon as Ricardt was no longer around, they turned on him.

    Boribori didn¡¯t resist. It was unclear whether he couldn¡¯t fight back or simply chose not to.

    However, the hardest thing for Boribori to ept was the belief that Ricardt was dead.

    Boribori was growing more and more devastated by the day, and yet the intensity of the bullying only increased with each passing day.

    Cutting grass, emptyingtrines, cleaning¡ªthese chores were things he was already used to doing, but now he had to take on all the other tasks that others neglected. His small body couldn¡¯t withstand the burden.

    One day, hey limp on his bed, feeling like he might actually die at this rate. His eyes were swollen, and his face and body were covered in bruises of varying shades of blue and purple.

    Even in that state, the other students came by just to hurl more cruel words at him. There was nowhere for him to escape to. After all, this was the ce he had been abandoned to from the start.

    ¡°Hey, your mom was a maid, right? Did she seduce her master? Wow, that¡¯s scandalous.¡±

    What was truly disgusting was that the ones who insulted his parents were in simr situations themselves.

    ¡°Do you have the same filthy nature as your mother? Huh?¡±

    ¡°Is that how you bewitched Ricky too? Why don¡¯t you do the same for me?¡±

    ¡°Hehehe, hey, are you crazy?¡±

    ¡°Stop it. Don¡¯t talk bad about Ricky.¡±

    Boribori finally spoke up.

    Despite enduring all the other torment, despite the insults about his parents, Boribori only reacted when they mentioned Ricardt.

    ¡°This bastard¡¯s gone mad. Hey, the Ricky you love so much is dead, you know? That loser bastard, I was going to kill that worthless bastard myself.¡±

    ¡°I should have knocked all his teeth out before he left. Hahaha.¡±

    They say people curse even kings and emperors behind their backs, but this was beyond despicable.

    ¡°I said stop it.¡±

    ¡°This little bastard really needs a beating to wake up, huh?¡±

    As the students tried to drag Boribori down from the bed, he, despite being utterly exhausted, clung tightly to the bedpost, trying to resist.

    ¡°You son of a bitch! Get out of there while we¡¯re asking nicely!¡±

    ¡°Say it! Say that Ricky was a moron and a loser bastard!¡±

    ¡°Ricky¡¯s gone now! You idiot! He¡¯s dead!¡±

    They punched, yanked, and scratched Boribori. Just like before, they knew he wouldn¡¯t resist, and they believed he would never fight back in the future either.

    But this time, it was different.

    ¡°I said stop it!¡±

    Crack!

    The voice was unmistakably that of a young boy, but the sheer volume was like thunder, shaking the entire dormitory.

    In that moment, without realizing it, Boribori tore the bedpost clean off. With one of its pirs gone, the bed tilted.

    The students, terrified out of their wits, fell over backward. They couldn¡¯tprehend what was happening. Then, in a blind rage, Boribori grabbed one of his tormentors by the cor and lifted him off the ground.

    The student who had been grabbed saw it¡ªck, ink-like energy swirling in Boribori¡¯s eyes.

    It was mana. But mana had never been visible outside the body like this.

    It wasn¡¯t like Ice, whose refined Mana Drive manifested along the trajectory of his sword. Boribori¡¯s raw mana overflowed uncontrobly from his body.

    The ¡°size of the vessel¡± Heuman had spoken of. Boribori¡¯s body was small¡ªweak, unskilled inbat. But the size of the vessel that contained his mana was so vast, it was beyond anyone¡¯s ability to fathom.

    Boribori mmed the student hard against the wall.

    Thud!

    ¡°Ugh!¡±

    And then he started beating him indiscriminately. Having never hit anyone before, his strikes were uncoordinated and wild. But it didn¡¯t matter¡ªsomehow, an incredible strength surged from within him. Corbones, ribs, internal organs¡ªwherever his fistsnded, bones shattered, and flesh tore apart.

    Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thud!

    With his bare hands, Boribori had turned the student into a pulp. And still holding onto his cor, tears streamed down his face as ck energy pulsed in his eyes.

    ¡°Please¡­ just insult Ricky one more time. Then I think I¡¯ll be able to kill you.¡±

    The words made no sense, yet they were undeniably terrifying. But the student, held by the cor, was already knocking on death¡¯s door.

    And then it happened.

    ¡°Bori, what are you doing?¡±

    In that instant, Boribori froze like a stone. The death of his friend¡ªa fact he had struggled to ept. His heart had been breaking over and over. But now, that friend¡¯s voice.

    In that moment, the ck energy in his eyes dissipated. He turned his head, and there, standing at the entrance of the dormitory with light behind him, was Ricardt.

    An indescribable sense of relief washed over him. The burning anger that had threatened to consume his brain rapidly cooled, as if it had all been a lie.

    Fortunately, Boribori hadn¡¯t crossed the line between human and monster. He didn¡¯t break. Unlike the Ricky from his past life, or that deserter.

    True friends, by their very existence, serve as pirs for each other¡¯s souls. To prevent them from copsing.

    It had been quite the journey¡ªfor everyone.

 Chapter 31

    Chapter 31

    Trantor: Willia

    Spring had passed, and summer was slowly approaching. When seasons change, the wind is the first to change, and this wind of change also blew through the Academy.

    Wooden railings were installed along the cliff-side stairs for safety, and students were now amodated in groups of 20 in each room within the inner castle.

    It had been seventy years since the Beringen Adventurers¡¯ Guild Academy was established, and finally, the students were freed from the henhouse.

    All thanks to a single student.

    Not only that, but the Court Count of Kelbron and Emperor¡¯s Champion, Heuman, sent a stonemasons¡¯ guild who installed a pulley at the well, repaired the buildings, and even discovered an ancient underground reservoir, installing water pipes as well.

    Just by looking at the appearance and structure of the Academy building, they immediately knew what style and structure it was, even if they didn¡¯t know the exact date of construction.

    And just as they had predicted, they found the underground reservoir that collected rainwater.

    For seventy years, no one had known of its existence, but now it could finally be used.

    In fact, water pipes were a luxury facility that only a few districts in renowned cities had, but since it was a stonemasons¡¯ guild employed by someone of Court Count¡¯s status, they used expensive copper to install the pipes.

    This kind of construction was so costly that even the guild would have found it hard to cover the expenses. Ricardt and the other students had no clue just how much the construction cost.

    Indirectly, they could feel just how powerful the Court Count was, and beyond that, how immense the power of the Emperor was.

    The development in the Beringen Academy was so significant that it felt like the changing of seasons didn¡¯t even matter anymore.

    For a while, the students found it hard to adjust. After all, they weren¡¯t sure if they deserved such luxury.

    And as Heuman had promised, a professor who taught ancient scripts came to the academy.

    ¡°It¡¯s thanks to the wizards that we¡¯ve been able to maintain the lineage of ancient scripts. They say that the ancient script itself is a magicalnguage. Wizards use it when writing magical descriptions or drawing certain diagrams.¡±

    The man speaking looked as though he¡¯d never been in a fight his entire life. He appeared to be in histe twenties and had studied at the prestigious Hantz University. His name was Elrich, and he was a nobleman.

    But there were only two students attending his ss. They were Ricardt and Boribori.

    In a ss with only two students, one of them had his arms crossed, his head tilted back, snoring loudly. That was Ricardt. Even after bragging so much about taking an ancient script ss.

    ¡°So, if I learn the ancient script, does that mean I can use magic?¡±

    Boribori asked.

    ¡°Hahaha, no, that¡¯s not the case. Do I look like a wizard to you?¡±

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. A script is just a script. Perhaps magic has such a long history that they still use the old script, but that¡¯s just a guess.¡±

    Professor Elrich took a thin booklet out of his bag.

    ¡°This is a textbook I¡¯ve written myself. If you follow along with this, you¡¯ll be able to learn a lot in a short time.¡±

    ¡°A book? But I don¡¯t know how to read.¡±

    ¡°¡­Oh dear.¡±

    It was hard to understand why someone who couldn¡¯t read would take a ss on ancient scripts, but Professor Elrich was a very understanding person.

    ¡°Well then, it would be best to slowly learn how to read while also studying the ancient script.¡±

    Elrich came down from the podium with the textbook, some nk paper, a pen, and ink, walking over to where Boribori was sitting.

    Even though Ricardt was still asleep next to him, Elrich didn¡¯t seem to mind and opened the book in front of Boribori.

    ¡°Ancient scripts are ideograms, meaning each character has its own meaning. The script we use is phic. This here is an ancient character, and below it is the script we currently use.¡±

    The booklet had the ancient script written inrge characters, with their meanings written in small letters underneath in the currentnguage.

    ¡°Boribori, is there something you like?¡±

    ¡°Flowers and grass.¡±

    ¡°Good. Then let¡¯s find something that means ¡®flower.¡¯¡±

    Elrich turned the pages. Coincidentally, he found the ancient script for ¡®violet¡¯ flower. For now, he didn¡¯t exin the ancient script itself, only focusing on the small letters written underneath.

    ¡°This is the word for ¡®violet¡¯. Let¡¯s start by learning the letters.¡±

    At the mention of ¡®violet¡¯, Boribori¡¯s interest piqued. He widened his eyes and carefully examined the squiggly ck lines.

    The professor exined each letter one by one, starting with the currentnguage.

    ¡°Vio, let¡­¡±

    ¡°How about we try writing the letters of the ancient script and the current ones together?¡±

    Elrich handed him a nk sheet of paper, a pen, and ink as he spoke. It was Boribori¡¯s first time holding a pen, so writing felt awkward, but since he was good at drawing, he managed to get the shapes down.

    ¡°You¡¯re writing quite well.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I like drawing.¡±

    After painstakingly writing both the ancient script and the current letters, the professor said,

    ¡°Shall we move on to the next flower?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡±

    Elrich turned the pages again. The lesson continued in this manner.

    Though it could have been frustratingly slow, neither of them felt that way. The professor had a lot of patience and understanding, and the student was full of curiosity.

    In a way, this might have been the first proper professor the academy had ever had.

    The so-called ¡®professors¡¯ before were just adventurers, sent by the guild on assignments, and they didn¡¯t care whether the students learned well, got hurt, or even died.

    They themselves had learned that way, and they assumed that was the proper method of teaching, passing it down like an unspoken tradition.

    The guild didn¡¯t feel the need to properly manage the students, nor did they have the capacity to do so. They simply sifted through the students like a sieve, raising only the useful ones to be adventurers.

    It was borderline abusive neglect, but it was a sad reality that no one found it strange in that era. After all, these were kids abandoned by their own families.

    In any case, Professor Elrich¡¯s teachings progressed slowly but steadily. Time passed, and the ss finally ended.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give this textbook to you, Boribori. I hope you study well. I¡¯ll see you in the next ss.¡±

    Despite being a nobleman, he was a gentle and polite person, one who didn¡¯t seem to fit into this harsh and brutal world.

    ¡°Thank you, professor. This is the third gift I¡¯ve ever received in my life. I¡¯ll treasure it.¡±

    I¡¯m more grateful that you say that. Well then, I¡¯ll be going now. I think it¡¯s time to wake up Ricardt young lord.¡±

    ¡°¡­Huh? Ricar¡­ what? Did you just say ¡®lord¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Ah, nevermind. It was a joke. Haha.¡±

    Perhaps because he was someone sent by the Court Count, he seemed to know a bit about Ricardt.

    ¡°Ah¡­ Ricky does seem a bit noble-like, huh? To me, he¡¯s the greatest hero in the Empire. Hehehe.¡±

    Elrich gave an awkward smile and left the auditorium. Finally, Boribori shook Ricardt awake.

    ¡°Ricky. Ricky.¡±

    ¡°¡­Huh? What? Ah, ss is over? You should¡¯ve woken me up. What¡¯s this?¡±

    ¡°This? It¡¯s a textbook. The professor gave it to me as a gift.¡±

    Ricardt flipped through the textbook, quickly scanning it. With his sharp mind, he memorized several things almost instantly.

    ¡°Lend it to meter.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°Aah¡­! That was a good nap. But my neck feels stiff.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because you slept with your head back.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I probably should¡¯veid my head down. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Ricardt shoved his hands into his pockets as he stood up. His golden, broli-like hair, which had been shaved, had now grown out a bit.

    Ricardt and Boribori descended the narrow spiral staircase of the defense tower attached to the inner castle. The first floor was where the students¡¯ dormitories were located.

    The building, which had been constructed as barracks for soldiers in ancient times, was now perfectly suited for people to live in. The students were ying, running around with cleaning tools in the hallway.

    When Ricardt appeared, they paused for a moment, but then quickly went back to chasing each other, paying him no further attention.

    As Ricardt walked past the rooms where the students lived, he casually nced inside. Everyone seemed to be doing well.

    Then, he noticed the students who had bullied Boribori. Since Boribori hadn¡¯t mentioned them, Ricardt didn¡¯t know exactly who they were.

    However, the moment those students saw Boribori, they were immediately terrified and scurried away like frightened rats, quickly hiding out of sight.

    Boribori didn¡¯t pay any attention to them. They weren¡¯t even worth the effort.

    As they stepped outside the inner castle, the warm sunlight embraced the two boys. It felt like a gentle giant softly cradling them with its entire body.

    Castles were typically cool and gloomy inside, so the air and temperature outside were noticeably different.

    Staying inside the castle for too long wasn¡¯t good for one¡¯s health, which is why nobles frequently took walks and sunbathed.

    Ricardt and Boribori headed toward the area opposite the old henhouse, near the girls¡¯ dormitories.

    There was a newly cleared space where a forest had been partially cut back. Eight students, who had previously joined them on the mission, along with a few others, were gathered there.

    Volka, Molty, and Falen were shirtless, sweating, and taking a break, while Ice, Jerome, and Melson stood nearby, chatting about something.

    After experiencing life-and-death situations in realbat, everyone was training diligently. Even Lara and Delphi, now regarded as princesses, were instructing the so-calleddies, telling them not to do things that way, to get their act together.

    When they noticed Ricardt and Boribori, they raised their hands in greeting.

    ¡°How¡¯s training going?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ it feels like it¡¯sing along, but also not quite. Maybe I¡¯ve improved a bit.¡±

    Volka said. Although he spoke like that, after experiencing realbat, his skills were now on apletely different level.

    Volka might seem a bit simple-minded, but he was quick to grasp things, just like when he had been hit by Ricardt before.

    Boribori fidgeted nervously, trying to hide behind Ricardt, even though hiding wasn¡¯t really an option.

    Seeing Boribori acting that way, Ice spoke up.

    ¡°Have you been practicing?¡±

    ¡°Huh? Uh, yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°Show me.¡±

    Reluctantly, as if he didn¡¯t want to or was simply embarrassed, Boribori awkwardly grabbed one of the practice swords the students used.

    Naturally, the attention of all the students in the area focused on him. Boribori gripped the sword, concentrated, and then started trembling all over as if he was trying too hard.

    It was odd enough to make people wonder why he was acting that way, but none of the studentsughed. That was because the clumsy trajectory of his sword left a trace of ck mana, like a trail of ink.

    Though his sword swings were unsteady, and he couldn¡¯t fully control his strength, causing his body to shake, the unmistakable bloom of mana had appeared.

    After just one swing, Boribori waspletely exhausted, drenched in sweat, and panting heavily. He nced nervously at Ice for approval.

    ¡°You did well. Keep practicing. If you don¡¯t, you¡¯ll hurt yourself.¡±

    Mana, if not properly controlled, could cause muscles or blood vessels to rupture, eyes to burst, or, in severe cases, damage internal organs. If vital organs like the brain or heart were injured, it could result in instant death.

    All the students present knew that Boribori possessed tremendous mana talent. Because he had beaten a student to death with his bare hands.

    Thus, if he couldn¡¯t control that power, it could be extremely dangerous. And the one teaching him how to control his mana, through something called Mana Drive, was Ice. Boribori had initially disliked him for being an outsider, a heretic.

    Perhaps feeling guilty about that, Boribori fidgeted, unsure of what to do with himself.

    ¡°Normally, people umte mana gradually and can safely use it in their bodies. But for you, doing the opposite might be safer.¡±

    Boribori was an unusual case. Despite his poor swordsmanship andbat skills, he was training at the ¡°Blooming Sword Stage¡± from the start because he was born with an immense amount of mana and arge vessel to contain it.

    ¡°Uh¡­ thanks¡­¡±

    Boribori said. His words of gratitude were so quiet that even an ant would struggle to hear them.

    But Ice wasn¡¯t teaching for the sake of hearing thanks. His expression remained indifferent, as it always did.

    Then, Ice turned his gaze to Ricardt.

    ¡°Please.¡±

    Ricardt, who had been standing idly, walked over to Boribori and took the practice sword from him. Then he stepped into the center of the clearing.

    Ice also grabbed a practice sword and slowly walked to the center. As the two prepared to face off, the atmosphere around the observing students shifted. Watching a duel between skilled fighters was rarer than gold¡ªsomething they could only witness at the academy, nowhere else.

    Ricardt casually flipped the sword in his hand a few times, as if he were just examining it. Then he lifted his head and looked at Ice. His eyes were calm, almost emotionless.

    But when Ice met those calm eyes, he felt as though his entire body had been bound by some invisible force. A chill swept over him, raising the hairs on his skin.

    This wasn¡¯t the first time. Every time he sparred with Ricardt, he felt this. When he locked eyes with Ricardt, an inexplicable shiver ran down his spine, and his body seemed to freeze.

    Those eyes. Those eyes were the biggest problem. Ricardt¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t just look at his opponent; it seemed to see beyond, as if peering through thoughts, even into the depths of their heart.

    Ice had to force himself to turn his neck and move his limbs, checking to make sure his body was functioning properly. Yet, despite that, his chest still felt tight under Ricardt¡¯s gaze.

    Taking deep breaths to calm himself, he finally settled into his stance.

    ¡°You go first.¡±

    The reason Ice asked Ricardt to strike first was simple: every time Ice attacked first, he had never been able to withstand even a single move.

    Without hesitation, Ricardt swiftly shifted to the left and immediately dodged to the right, swinging his sword toward Ice¡¯s waist.

    The movement was clean but not particrly special. It was the best speed a boy of that age could manage after training. To skilled fighters, it wasn¡¯t especially fast, something easily countered.

    So, Ice moved toward the direction of the attack, evading it and positioning himself in Ricardt¡¯s blind spot. So far, everything seemed fine.

    Ricardt quickly turned his body to face Ice again, raising his sword high above his head. At that moment, Ice¡¯s sword aimed for Ricardt¡¯s side. But the de Ricardt had lifted was already angling downward.

    ng!

    Their swords shed for the first time. Ice thought he should retreat. A series of movements and strategies yed out in his mind, as if unfolding like a script.

    But Ricardt moved in a way that wasn¡¯t in any of those scripts, as if he had already read Ice¡¯s mind and countered it in advance.

    Startled, Ice locked eyes with Ricardt again. Those eyes¡­ What exactly were they seeing? What could they possibly see in me?

    Pat pat pat.

    Ricardt quickly pursued the retreating Ice, his steps rapid and precise. Ice, gritting his teeth, swung his sword in retaliation. He couldn¡¯t afford to just defend and lose. He had to do something.

    Whoosh! Thud!

    ¡°Ugh!¡±

    The two swords grazed past each other. One sliced through empty air, while the other struck Ice squarely on the neck.

    Hit in the neck by the blunt de, Ice staggered for a brief moment but instinctively prepared to fight again. However, had they been using real swords, the match would have already been decided, so he stopped.

    Ricardt had already widened the distance between them and was now standing still, watching Ice quietly.

    ¡°You¡¯re still overthinking. How many times do I have to tell you? You can¡¯t let your thoughts control your sword. You should just swing it based on what you see. Trying to over-strategize is a bad habit.¡±

    To be honest, in Ricardt¡¯s eyes, Ice showed no real progress. In that sense, Boribori and Ice seemed no different. From a higher vantage point, everything below can appear the same.

    In truth, battles between those who had reached a certain level of skill were almost always mental games. But Ricardt was talking about something beyond that¡ªa state of no-mind.

    Ice had hit a wall here. How could someone fight without thinking?

    Ice was undoubtedly a genius. At his age, it was hard to find anyone who could match him. He could instantly think of the best attacks and defenses and then choose the best option from them to execute.

    But to abandon thought? How could anyone do that¡­?

    ¡°¡­Thanks.¡±

    Ice spoke as he rubbed his neck, wincing slightly from the pain. The spot where he had been hit still stung.

    Molty, who had been watching, said indifferently,

    ¡°That¡¯s ten losses in ten matches.¡±

    ¡°No matter how many times I watch their duels, I don¡¯t get it.¡±

    Volka replied. To the spectators, the duel didn¡¯t seem all that special. It was always like that between Ricardt and Ice.

    Not just Volka, but the other students too saw Ice as a genius. Anyone who sparred with him could tell. They would lose in a way that made it feel like they were being toyed with.

    Yet, whenever Ice fought Ricardt, he lost so easily that it was hard to understand even when watching it firsthand.

    ¡°It¡¯s like a tower-building game.¡±

    Ricardt said, spinning his practice sword yfully as he spoke to Ice.

    ¡°You build the tower up carefully, but then ites crashing down all at once. And when it copses, you see something new. When you realize that the tower you cherished and put so much effort into was actually nothing, you no longer need to think. I guess you¡¯re not ready to bring your tower down yet.¡±

    It was a hard concept to understand. But giving Ice advice about how to position his legs or how to hold his stance would have been meaningless, so this was all Ricardt could say.

    And Ricardt believed he was exining it urately. There wasn¡¯t any other way he could put it.

    In his previous life as Ricky, survival was the top priority. Whether he wanted to or not, he was always in situations where he had to bring down the tower he had built. Recognizable patterns would lead to death.

    Creative attacks and defenses, and beyond that, seemingly ordinary attacks and defenses¡ªunderstanding the force of actions, paths, lines, points, the state of no-mind, the heart, and the experiences of his past life. The further he advanced, the harder it became to put these things into words.

    ¡°U-uh¡­¡±

    As Ice and Ricardt made their way back to where the other students were, unexpectedly, Boribori approached Ice. Curious, Ricardt nced over and saw Boribori offering Ice a small bundle of paper.

    ¡°This is for your neck¡­ I made it by chewing thoroughly¡­¡±

    Without a word, Ice took the bundle from Boribori. When he opened it, he found a paste of mashed herbs.

    ¡°It won¡¯t leave a scar, and it¡¯ll heal fast¡­¡±

    Boribori spoke without ever meeting Ice¡¯s eyes. Seeing this, Volka burst outughing.

    ¡°Hey, you¡¯ve never made something like that for me, even if I was dying.¡±

    ¡°Th-that¡¯s because you¡¯re tough, Volka.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about? Ice is tough too.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ but Ice is handsome. It¡¯d be a waste if he got scars.¡±

    ¡°What?! Ha! Haha! Hah!¡±

    Volka let out a series of incredulousughs, unable to believe what he was hearing. The other students who overheard also burst intoughter.

    And so, the students of Beringen Academy continued to support and encourage each other, engaging in friendlypetition and steadily improving.

    What they didn¡¯t know, not even in their wildest dreams, was that the teachings they were receiving so casually came from someone who had first broken through the limits of humanity and opened up a new horizon in swordsmanship.

    Nor did they realize the full extent of their own potential abilities.

 Chapter 32

    Chapter 32

    Trantor: Willia

    The students of the academy lived in their own world, outside the attention of adults. Like wildflowers growing naturally in the fields.

    The attention of adults doesn¡¯t always work out for the better, but without proper guidance, children are bound to lose their way. And thus, they often brought cruel fates upon themselves.

    In the Empire, there were at least dozens of adventurer guilds, and among them, there were also dozens that operated academies.

    Though it was unclear how life at each academy was, at least at the Beringen Academy, there was hope.

    They could earn money by working, train in martial arts, and support each other as friends. After graduation, they had the opportunity to carve out a life for themselves.

    Even though brutal struggles and death cast shadows over them, the children were tougher than expected.

    Of course, despicable people exist everywhere, but just as wildflowers ovee pests, fortunately, a positive atmosphere prevailed at the Beringen Academy.

    The one leading that positive atmosphere was Ricardt.

    Just as a lord¡¯s presence kept bandits at bay, while his absence attracted vile delinquents, Ricardt¡¯s mere presence at the academy created a good atmosphere, even if it was not something he intended.

    Volka, Molty, Ice, Lara, Delphi, Falen, Jerome, and Melson, who had carried out the deserter elimination mission with Ricardt, were now starting to show signs of adulthood due to their age.

    Including Ricardt, these nine were on a different levelpared to other students and, along with Ricardt, took the lead in shaping the atmosphere at the academy.

    Their overwhelming skill difference and the future they envisioned served as an inspiration to other students. It made them think, ¡°I want to be like that.¡±

    In any case, the growth of boys and girls goes hand in hand with time, and the graduation of these eight students was approaching. They had entered the academy about one year and 10 months before Ricardt.

    The academy¡¯s course was meant tost two years, but most stayed either a little more or a little less than that. It was due to the academy¡¯s haphazard operation.

    They often went out on requests, sometimes together, sometimes in smaller groups, and they frequently discussed whether to join an existing n or start one of their own, while interacting with active adventurers.

    After childhood, paths diverge between siblings, and after adolescence, paths diverge between friends.

    ¡°So, what do you think about us forming our own n?¡±

    Volka said. Being naturally proactive in everything, he spoke without hesitation.

    It was midnight, and a campfire was zing in an open space between the inner wall and the girls¡¯ dormitory. Nine students were gathered around it.

    From the grass, the sound of night insects chirping could be heard, and in the ck sky, stars twinkled silently.

    Though it was time to sleep, the top nine students, including Ricardt, had a bit more freedom when it came to the rules.

    ¡°I can¡¯t. I have something I need to do.¡±

    Ice shook his head as he spoke. Jerome and Melson, who had been with him from the beginning, were of the same mind. It made sense.

    ¡°What is it you need to do? Can you tell us?¡±

    ¡°I must take the final exam.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because it¡¯s my destiny.¡±

    The final exam was to be a special-grade adventurer and go to Fernd. There was a legend that passing that exam made one a Sword Master.

    No one knew exactly what happened during the test that made it possible, except those who passed it. But hardly anyone ever did.

    The final exam itself was incredibly rare, and no one knew who administered it, when it would take ce, or why. People only knew that such a thing existed.

    Those who passed were about one in several decades, and in the 70-year history of the Beringen Academy, not a single student had ever passed the final exam.

    So, taking the final exam and passing was, in reality, almost impossible.

    However, what could they do when it was his fate? The nine friends andrades respected one another. For some reason, Ice looked somewhat bitter.

    ¡°Hm¡­ well, it can¡¯t be helped. What about the rest of you?¡±

    Volka looked around at the students and asked. Molty also seemed negative.

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking of quitting the adventurer life. I enjoy forging iron. Sorry about that.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t either. I¡¯ve decided to live with Molty. Sorry.¡±

    Lara said. It looked like the two were nning to get married. Since they were already of age, it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

    ¡°Um, sorry, but I¡¯ll have to pass too. I know a senior adventurer, and I¡¯ve already decided to join their n.¡±

    Falen, who had briefly traveled with Ricardt and Ice during the deserter pursuit mission, said. He wasn¡¯t the most assertive, but he was more than capable of pulling his weight.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. There¡¯s nothing to be sorry about.¡±

    Although Volka said that, it was obvious from his expression that he felt disappointed.

    That left only three¡ªVolka, Delphi, and Ricardt. The problem was that Ricardt still had a long time before graduation.

    Volka looked at Delphi with an almost pleading expression. His expression was so tant that Delphi couldn¡¯t help butugh.

    ¡°Alright, alright. I get it. Just stop making that face. I know I¡¯m the only one who¡¯ll look out for you.¡±

    ¡°Delphi¡­¡±

    ¡°But what about Ricky?¡±

    Delphi, who had tied her short hair back, asked.

    ¡°Let¡¯s include Bori too.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Bori said he wanted to be an adventurer, didn¡¯t he? It¡¯d be better if he joined us.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t mind, but you know it¡¯s a dangerous job, right?¡±

    ¡°Bori and I still have some time before we graduate. We¡¯ll use that time to train and improve our skills. Besides, I believe he¡¯ll do well. He¡¯s tougher than he seems.¡±

    ¡°Well, if you say so¡­ Then who¡¯s going to be the n leader?¡±

    ¡°Volka should do it. You¡¯re the leader, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Ricardt smiled without any hesitation. From the start, he had no ambition for such things.

    Though Ricardt¡¯sbat prowess and his ability to lead people in battle were unmatched, even among active adventurers, his ability to manage things in everyday life wasn¡¯t as outstanding.

    Management meant handling people. It required trust and leadership more than just money, and in that area, Volka was better. He also had a lot of connections here and there.

    And when a request came in, Ricardt could temporarily lead in actualbat situations. Nothing was set in stone, after all. They could decide however they wanted.

    ¡°Alright then, what should we name the n?¡±

    Delphi asked. At this, Volka and Ricardt exchanged nces, and without saying a word, they both smiled as if they hade to an understanding.

    ¡°Vi. n Vi.¡±

    Vi meant ¡°violets¡±. Delphi didn¡¯t understand the reason behind it, but she didn¡¯t object. She just thought it was a surprisingly feminine name.

    After all, most n names were something like ¡°Fire Ax¡±, ¡°Widowmakers¡±, ¡°ck Wolves¡±, or ¡°Lion¡¯s Roar¡±.

    In any case, this was how the Vi n came to be. Ricardt was 11 years old at the time, Volka and Delphi were 16, and Boribori was 13.

    Even though they spoke of it, they weren¡¯t going to part ways immediately. Graduation was when the guild would send someone to pick up the students aroundte autumn or winter.

    It was currently summer, so there were still a few months left. The students who had carried out the mission together were busy preparing for graduation in one way or another.

    After graduation, they would each pursue their goals, or even without a clear goal, they would step into the harsh world.

    That¡¯s why the academy was a bit disorganized starting in the summer. There weren¡¯t many sses, and there were students frantically trying to save up money, while others were worrying about how they would make a living once they left.

    During this busy time, Boribori was swinging a practice sword in the backyard of his old dorm.

    However, whether Boribori was really swinging his sword or just ying around, Ricardt, who waszily lying down in the shade with his head propped up, couldn¡¯t help but frown slightly.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Huh? Oh, I¡¯m writing characters. Ancient script. I¡¯m studying and training at the same time, you see? Hehehe.¡±

    ¡°Bori, didn¡¯t you hear about making a n?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you told mest time.¡±

    Ricardt was dumbfounded and wanted to say something, but decided against it. There was no point in saying anything.

    However, as Boribori swung his sword again through the air, it somehow looked better than ordinary swordy. Huh? Wait, what is this?

    Ricardt, being someone who had mastered the sword, felt something unusual, but he couldn¡¯t pinpoint it exactly. It was something he had never seen or heard of before.

    ¡°Ricky, watch closely. I can do something like this now.¡±

    With that, Boribori gripped his sword and began to focus. In that moment, Ricardt¡¯s heart raced for reasons he couldn¡¯t exin.

    Boribori¡¯s sword moved swiftly. He wrote in ancient script in the air, and a ck mana trail lingered, leaving the letters briefly suspended in the air.

    ¡°Oh!¡±

    Ricardt¡¯s eyes widened in astonishment as he let out a gasp. Though the letters written in mana quickly disappeared, it was undeniably an amazing feat.

    ¡°What¡ª! What is that?! Bori!¡±

    Ricardt jumped up from where he had been lying down. Even he, who rarely lost hisposure, was so surprised that he couldn¡¯t help but get excited.

    In any case, Boribori was the only person who could stir up Ricardt¡¯s emotions like this. He could drive him mad with frustration one moment and surprise him like this the next.

    ¡°Hehehe.¡±

    ¡°Hey! Your swordy was clean! Let¡¯s go with this!¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Yeah! This is the answer! Even I¡¯ve never seen anything like this before!¡±

    It was definitely a sword technique he had never encountered in his entire life, including his past life.

    ¡°Really? Then should we give this sword technique a name?¡±

    ¡°¡­No, not yet. It¡¯s too early to call it a sword technique. It¡¯s just a random skill right now. Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself.¡±

    Ricardt, always sure about what wasn¡¯t right, said sternly.

    ¡°¡­Okay¡­¡±

    ¡°But maybe we should give it a name? Why not?¡±

    ¡°Okay, okay. Then what should we call it?¡±

    ¡°Obviously, it should be named after you. Sword techniques are often named after their creator. Boribori Sword Technique!¡±

    ¡°But my name doesn¡¯t sound that cool.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll start sounding cool now. Trust me.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, then shall we spar now? My sparring skills have improved a lot too.¡±

    Since Ricardt had mastered the sword purely for the purpose of killing, he wasn¡¯t familiar with holding back in a sparring match. However, after sparring with Ice, he had learned how to fight without hurting his opponent too much.

    In the beginning, Ice had been severely injured during their sparring matches, even suffering cracked bones. Looking at it this way, Boribori owed a lot to Ice, both for the mana drive and various other things.

    Ricardt picked up a practice sword and stood opposite Boribori. As he prepared for the duel, his eyes gleamed with the confidence that came naturally, and a smile spread across his face.

    ¡°Come at me however you want.¡±

    Boribori, feeling a bit nervous, swallowed dryly, but unlike Ice, his body didn¡¯t freeze up.

    He knew that no matter what he did, Ricardt wouldn¡¯t hurt him, so she swung his sword freely without worry. No mana trails appeared this time because it drained a lot of mental energy.

    Ricardt easily dodged Boribori¡¯s sword swings. With slight tilt of his head or turns of his body, he avoided his strikes while staying within his reach.

    As Ricardt widened the distance slightly, Boribori, trying to follow him too hastily, stumbled over his own feet and nearly fell. Ricardt hadn¡¯t even swung his sword once.

    Catching Boribori as he was about to fall, Ricardt said,

    ¡°Much better. The stroke is a sh, and the dot is a thrust. Even the same letters can change dramatically depending on how they¡¯re written. Just focus a bit more on your footwork.¡±

    Ricardt, seeing this sword technique for the first time, instantly grasped its essence. He also recognized its infinite potential.

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Boribori nodded energetically, and the sparring resumed.

    He recalled a character he liked in his mind and began to write it in the air with his sword¡ªstrokes, dots¡ªsometimes forceful, sometimes gentle. No one had taught him, but he naturally did it on his own.

    Soon he found that using one hand felt morefortable than two, and his stance adjusted naturally.

    Then, as if by magic, his progress began to elerate at an unbelievable pace. The difference between the sword he swung a moment ago and the one he swung next was staggering.

    The reason this was possible was because it wasn¡¯t just training or practice¡ªit was y.

    Boribori was drawing freely on the limitless canvas that was Ricardt, and Ricardt, a vast mountain and ocean, epted everything he threw at him.

    At some point, Boribori couldn¡¯t help but smile, and Ricardt joined his inughter.

    ¡°Hahahahaha!¡±

    Someone had once said that those who reach enlightenmentughs loudly. It seemed as though these two boys had done just that.

    Ricardt felt ted right now. It was because this was the first time he had experienced something like this. Who knew wielding a sword could be this fun?

    A sword forged only in the brutal battlefields. A de tempered with fire, steel, blood, and death. A sword that had burned itself away in a relentless self-purging¡­

    When that sword met Boribori¡¯s, Ricardt felt a sense of liberation. It was like a cursed demonic sword transforming into a sacred sword.

    Since the deserter incident, Ricardt had carried a heavy burden in his heart, but now, it finally felt like it was being lifted.

    He didn¡¯t know why, but there was no need to. If one could exin why, then it wouldn¡¯t truly be enlightenment.

    Some people found wisdom from Ricardt, some felt the weight of an insurmountable wall and suffered, while others simply found joy. What caused the differences between these three experiences, no one could say.

    For now, all that could be heard in the once henhouse-like backyard of the dormitory was the sound of two boysughing, cooler than the wind.

    Chapter 7 ¨C Only a Pure Soul. The End.

 Chapter 33

    Chapter 33

    Trantor: Willia

    As time passed, the flowers that had bloomed all summer fell, and the once vibrant green leaves withered to brown.

    Many students began to leave one by one, following the adventurers from the guild. There was no such thing as a graduation ceremony, and that was simply how they graduated. It was an era where even the concept of holding an event tomemorate graduation didn¡¯t exist.

    Volka, Molty, Lara, and Delphi were the first to leave, and when it began to snow, Ice, Jerome, Menson, and Falen also departed.

    The farewells were dry and emotionless. There were no tearful embraces or anything like that. There wasn¡¯t even a need to show regret outwardly.

    They just smiled, wishing each other good luck. They parted, promising to meet again.

    Molty had said he was quitting being an adventurer and would continue working at the cksmith shop, so they could often see him when they went to the city. That was a relief.

    The empty spaces left by those who departed weren¡¯t filled immediately. While new students did trickle in steadily, the real influx of neers usually started in the spring.

    The remaining students had to endure the winter. Winter was a season of rest but also a season of survival¡ªenduring the cold, hunger, and loneliness.

    At the Beringen Academy, because many students lived together, loneliness wasn¡¯t an issue, but the cold and hunger were inescapable.

    The firewood ran out quickly, making it difficult to keep the fire going, and even the free, hard bread had run out.

    They had to find ways to feed themselves, but no matter where one went, it was a time when food was scarce, so even going to the city wouldn¡¯t guarantee any provisions.

    In addition, finding work was hard. The jobs they managed to secure only paid in rotten potatoes or a handful of grain instead of wages.

    Students who had stockpiled food during the summer and fall were in a slightly better situation, but the real problemy with those who had no stored supplies.

    These students tried to fill their stomachs with ice-cold water, dug up roots to eat, or ventured out to the fields in hopes of catching a field mouse or rabbit. That¡¯s how they managed to scrape by.

    Ricardt and Boribori had enough salted meat, cheese blocks, and grain stored to get by, but it was impossible to turn a blind eye to those starving and falling ill right next to them.

    It wasn¡¯t easy to gather everyone¡¯s food and distribute it evenly¡ªwhat reason could justify taking away the hard-earned provisions of students who had worked diligently to secure them?

    At the same time, giving away what little they had would leave them with too little, and they couldn¡¯t starve themselves just to help others.

    The winter food shortage was something even the Court Count couldn¡¯t solve. His own territory¡¯s people were starving as well.

    Still, they had to do what they could.

    Ricardt donned a thick gambeson, wrapped a cloak around himself, and prepared to head out.

    He strapped a dagger to his waist and slung a longsword over one shoulder. As if determined to do something serious, he also packed extra provisions and, along with Boribori, headed outside.

    Before stepping out, he nced back. In the room, all the students were huddled together under nkets, trembling near the firece. They had to conserve firewood, so they were forced to stay close together.

    The sick students were gathered in another room, coughing weakly as they sweated inside their nkets. Recently, the students¡¯ daily task had been to check each morning if anyone had died.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Ricardt said. Boribori, wearing a hood, followed in silence. It seemed that winter froze even the innocent smile of a young boy.

    A ¡®side sword¡¯, a one-handed sword, hung quietly from Boribori¡¯s waist.

    As they left the academy and descended the cliff, snow fell endlessly from the gray sky, covering the world in white. The snow-covered fields stretched out before them, an awe-inspiring sight.

    It was so beautiful that they felt like questioning if it was right for the world to look like this when they were struggling so much.

    As they finished descending the cliff, footprints in the snow stretched westward, and Ricardt and Boribori walked across the vast snowy in, listening to the gentle sound of the snow piling up.

    Crunch. Crunch¡­

    After walking for six hours, they arrived in Beringen, shook the snow off their heads and shoulders in front of the main building, and stepped inside.

    When the door opened, warm air rushed in, and as the muscles of Ricardt¡¯s frozen face began to thaw, his mind felt dazed.

    The adventurers inside turned their heads to see who had suddenly opened the door. Rather than recognizing his face, they identified him by his build and the red cloak he wore, and soon lost interest.

    Ricardt was a somewhat well-known figure in Beringen and the surrounding areas. He was called the ¡®Red-cloaked Boy Swordsman¡¯, or moremonly, ¡°Ricky the Severer.¡± It was because every time he fought someone, their sword would inevitably break.

    Dunkel, who had his elbow propped up on the bar and his chin resting in his hand, nced at Ricardt before subtly averting his eyes. As if Ricardt wouldn¡¯t notice that he was avoiding his gaze.

    Ricardt closed the door with a thud, walked over to him, and said,

    ¡°I¡¯m not here to borrow food again.¡±

    Since he hade to borrow food not once but several times, and knowing that Dunkel was troubled each time, Ricardt made it clear from the start that he had no such intention.

    Dunkel slowly turned his head to look at Ricardt.

    ¡°Then what brings you here?¡±

    ¡°I was wondering if there¡¯s any work. Something big enough to earn enough money so that the students can get through winter without freezing or starving.¡±

    Dunkel looked at Ricardt quietly, thinking. Why on earth does he care about others¡¯ situations? What does it have to do with him?

    Dunkel didn¡¯t think Ricardt was kind or had some noble nature¡ªhe just couldn¡¯t understand it. He himself had always lived solely for his own benefit.

    ¡°There¡¯s always work¡­¡±

    ¡°Really? What kind?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ sigh¡­ The elder is the elder, but the guild has its own stance to consider too, Ricky.¡±

    Dunkel seemed to have something ufortable he couldn¡¯t say. And it seemed that because he knew who Ricardt¡¯s patron was, it made things even more awkward for him.

    ¡°What¡¯s the issue? Is it that you don¡¯t trust me? Or did I cause some trouble before?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not it. I know how great you are, and everyone here knows it too. But the thing is, there are jobs you just can¡¯t hand out easily. Like that deserter missionst time¡ªsomething went wrong midway, but the job itself wasn¡¯t that difficult, was it?¡±

    ¡°True.¡±

    ¡°But some jobs¡­ How should I put this¡­ It¡¯s not just about how hard it is. There are jobs where failure isn¡¯t an option. To put it more bluntly, if you fail, it¡¯s none of our business. To be even more specific, if you fail, you¡¯ll just die a dog¡¯s death. You get what I mean?¡±

    ¡°¡­Is it assassination?¡±

    As Rickard mouthed the word, Dunkel gestured for him to follow. Then he entered a door behind the bar that only authorized personnel could go through.

    Ricardt and Boribori exchanged nces and followed him inside. The room wasn¡¯t anything special. The only thing that stood out was the shelves lined with bottles of liquor.

    There was a backless chair, and Dunkel sat on it before continuing the conversation. Cold wind whistled through the gap in the door, making a whooshing sound.

    ¡°Have you heard of the Ernburg Five? Their leader, Steiner, is one of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of them.¡±

    ¡°Among that five-man group are ¡®The Experimenter¡¯ Reto and ¡®The Skin Collector¡¯ Erze. The job is to kill those two bastards. You can kill more if you want, though¡­ actually, that¡¯s impossible.¡±

    Taking down just two members of a group that always moved as five was incredibly difficult. In reality, it meant having to deal with the entire group. Even for Ricardt, it was hard to guarantee sess in such a mission.

    However, a simple assassination request wouldn¡¯t earn enough to feed nearly a hundred students through the winter. To achieve that, they¡¯d need to take on a mission of the highest difficulty.

    ¡°Those five bastards have been operating around Ernburg, making plenty of enemies wherever they go. In other words, there have been many people waiting to get revenge on them for a long time. But everyone who has tried to take down the five has either died or failed miserably.¡±

    In short, they were untouchable. You couldn¡¯t just mobilize an army to capture five men, and even if you did, they¡¯d simply flee.

    ¡°What kind of things have they done to deserve that?¡±

    ¡°Look, in this line of work, no one¡¯s really a good guy or a bad guy, but those guys? They¡¯re viins through and through. If they want something, they take it. They kill. They handle the dirty work for nobles, get protection in return, then turn on those same nobles and flee. They live by their own twisted rules. Reto, ¡®The Experimenter,¡¯ enjoys torturing people. Erze, ¡®The Skin Collector,¡¯ peels off people¡¯s skin and wears it. Oh, and by the way, they call themselves adventurers too, though they¡¯re not affiliated with any guild. The fact that they¡¯re still alive haspletely tarnished the reputation of adventurers.¡±

    Dunkel spoke as if he had a personal grudge against the five-man group.

    ¡°Hmm, well, it doesn¡¯t sound like there¡¯s any issue with killing them. Good enough for me.¡±

    ¡°No, no. Did you even listen to what I said? The problem isn¡¯t whether they deserve to die¡ªit¡¯s whether you can kill them. If you fail, and they find out we¡¯re behind it, the guild will be in deep trouble. It¡¯s hard enoughpeting with rival guilds as it is, and you want us to risk getting on the bad side of one of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re certain that if I handle this, we¡¯ll get enough supplies tost through the winter? Food and firewood?¡±

    Dunkel thought to himself, ¡®This bastard clearly isn¡¯t listening to me at all¡¯. But there was nothing he could do. He knew Ricardt¡¯s true identity, so he couldn¡¯t exactly scold or refuse him. He started to regret even bringing it up. He¡¯d only mentioned it in the first ce because Ricardt had pestered him so often about borrowing food.

    ¡°That¡¯s guaranteed. Several organizations have secretly pooled a massive fund. There are even groups that have agreed to pay in goods from the start.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll get started right away, but could you lend me some food in advance as a down payment? Don¡¯t send it to me, send it to the academy.¡±

    ¡°¡­But do you really need to go this far? I can guarantee you, there¡¯s never been anyone like you in the academy¡¯s history.¡±

    Ricardt answered with a slight smile.

    ¡°I don¡¯t act out of necessity. If I want to do something, and if I can do something, then I do it.¡±

    ¡°¡­I see.¡±

    Dunkel seemed unconvinced.

    ¡°Well, at least there¡¯s work to do. That¡¯s a relief.¡±

    ¡°No. There¡¯s always someone who wants someone dead. Doesn¡¯t matter the season. Whether it¡¯s spring, winter, rain, or snow.¡±

    ¡°¡­I guess so.¡±

    It was a bitter reality. There would always be someone who wanted someone dead. As long as humans existed, that fact would never change.

    ¡°Where do I need to go in Ernburg?¡±

    ¡°First, follow the road southwest until youe across an inn called ¡®Anna¡¯s Loss¡¯. When you get there, show them your cloak pin and tell them I sent you. They¡¯ll give you the information about the job.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a guild branch?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s the thieves¡¯ guild. The Arisen Brotherhood. Given the nature of this job, we can¡¯t openly be involved. And let me be clear¡ªofficially, we know nothing about this.¡±

    Ricardt looked at Boribori. Boribori was simply staring nkly at Dunkel.

    Dunkel thought Boribori was just tagging along to assist Ricardt, not as a real asset, but as someone to run errands or offer support.

    ¡°You alright with this?¡±

    Ricardt asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. As long as I¡¯m with you, Ricky. Even if I die, I don¡¯t care.¡±

    To Boribori, Ricardt was like a beacon of light. He had pulled him out of the swamp that was his miserable life.

    Even if he were to lose his life, he couldn¡¯t afford to lose that light. Boribori knew all too well that there was nothing more wretched than living out of mere obligation.

    ¡°No, that¡­¡±

    ¡°To be honest, having a student handle this is a pretty good option for our guild. Most of our usable operatives are too well-known. Ricky, you¡¯re the perfect fit. But don¡¯t even think about facing them head-on. That would be a death sentence. The Nine Swords aren¡¯t child¡¯s y. These guys are infamous across the entire Empire.¡±

    Dunkel said. Though Ricardt was well-known, it was only within Beringen and its surrounding areas. The difference between him and one of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords was like the difference between a local celebrity and a national figure.

    After all, Ricardt was still a rising talent, far from solidifying his position as the strongest in the region.

    ¡°I¡¯ll handle that my own way.¡±

    ¡°¡­Are you seriously not listening to me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m listening to the important parts.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    Dunkel couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing. But the fact remained that Ricardt¡¯s unique attitude was matched by his extraordinary talent.

    ¡°It¡¯ll take a full day to get there, so stay the night. Leave in the morning. I¡¯ll send the down payment¡­ to the academy.¡±

    Ricardt nodded, left the room, and headed upstairs with Boribori. They loosened their gear andy down to rest on the beds.

    Ricardt gazed out at the falling snow. But the white snow couldn¡¯t fill the hollow feeling left by the departure of his friends. If anything, it only deepened the emptiness.

    Suddenly, Boribori caught his attention. It had been months since they started training together through sparring sessions.

    Boribori¡¯s unique swordsmanship seemed practical enough to Ricardt, but it was still uncertain how it would fare in realbat.

    In real battles, it wasn¡¯t just skill that mattered; keeping calm, not being afraid, and avoiding freezing up were just as crucial. Ricardt wondered if this pure-hearted boy could really kill someone.

    Boribori didn¡¯t seem to match the cold, eerie energy that naturally apanied the sword.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you scared?¡±

    ¡°No. It doesn¡¯t matter if I die.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because when I left my mom behind, I already thought of myself as dead. Now, I just want to be useful to you, Ricky. That¡¯s all I¡¯m thinking about. I won¡¯t be a burden.¡±

    ¡°¡­Don¡¯t say it like that.¡±

    ¡°Okay. I¡¯m sorry. I just¡­ I hope winter passes quickly.¡±

    Ricardt turned his gaze back to the snow outside and agreed with him.

    ¡°So do I.¡±

    Boribori knew why they were doing this, and why they had to.

    Watching the other students starve, slowly wasting away and dying, was unbearable. What had they done to deserve such a fate? What on earth did they do so wrong that these boys and girls had to die?

    But it wasn¡¯t just the academy students. Throughout the Empire, people were freezing and starving to death. That was the nature of this season¡ªwinter. It was merciless.

    The silently falling snow wasn¡¯t purely beautiful. The spirit of death must surely be white.

 Chapter 34

    Chapter 34

    Trantor: Willia

    In winter, horrific tales too gruesome to put into words crawled across the snowy ins. Stories like a mother eating her baby because she couldn¡¯t bear the hunger or people digging up graves to eat the corpses.

    There was no real need to worry about wild beasts during winter journeys, because it was the season when people turned into beasts.

    The snow-covered ins had messy tracks of wheels and footprints scattered along the path. The ground, frozen solid, had be jagged and sharp.

    And there, by the roadside, was a half-broken carriage leaning to one side. Around it were corpses strewn across the ground. One body in the distance was missing its head.

    The snow had stopped for a while, and the cold sunlight shone down in the morning. Ricardt and Boribori stood still, quietly staring at the scene left in the aftermath of something terrible. The vast snowy ins sparkled under the sunlight, and with every breath the two boys took, white mist puffed from their mouths.

    In weather where one could freeze to death after spending just one night outside, there was no chance of survivors. Here and there in the snow field, holes could be seen where blood had melted through.

    One bit of relief, if it could be called that, was that the flesh of the corpses hadn¡¯t been cut off and taken. It was uncertain whether to be thankful that things hadn¡¯t degenerated to that level yet.

    What was puzzling, though, was that if food or money had been the target, the equipment would have been stripped from the bodies. But the corpses were still armed. Even as scrap metal, the gear would have fetched a decent price.

    But there was something more surprising than the puzzling details.

    ¡°This is quite amazing.¡±

    Ricardt, who had been examining the scene, spoke up.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°There was only one person. The one who attacked. Looking at the cuts and footprints, you can tell.¡±

    Ricardt said this while touching a deep, sharp gash on the carriage.

    Ricardt originally had an uncanny eye for detail, and thanks to his experiences from his past life, he had a remarkably sharp ability to deduce an enemy¡¯s strength by just looking at a scene.

    It was this ability that had allowed him to gain a tactical advantage, even when faced with an unexpected ambush in a previous mission.

    In this case, it was clear from the scene how that one person had killed all the people.

    It was as if the chaotic sounds of the battlefield still echoed in his ears. The sh of des, the desperate screams, the terror, the wails of agony.

    People who had been killed before they could even take a few steps, others who had been dragged back while trying to flee, people with their heads split in two¡­

    There were almost no other injuries on the corpses. This meant each person had been killed in one strike. And most of them had their heads split open. It seemed like the attacker had used a battle axe, not a sword.

    ¡°Well¡­ but there are more than ten bodies here. And most of them are armed.¡±

    ¡°Exactly, that¡¯s what¡¯s so amazing.¡±

    ¡°Then isn¡¯t this ce dangerous?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not. This is like a predator¡¯s hunt. Once it¡¯s caught its prey, it won¡¯te back.¡±

    Ricardt said this while looking at the headless body in the distance. It seemed the attacker hadn¡¯te for money but specifically for that head.

    If the attacker hade for money, they wouldn¡¯t havee alone, and they wouldn¡¯t have left valuable items behind. It might have been a revenge killing. But Ricardt couldn¡¯t be sure about that.

    Ricardt inspected the interior of the broken, tilted carriage. Inside was the body of an unknown noblewoman, but her clothes hadn¡¯t been stripped off. There were no signs of sexual assault.

    And unlike the other corpses, a dagger was stuck in her chest. She had been killed by a stab to the heart. This method was not easy to pull off, as it required avoiding the ribs and hitting the heart in one clean strike.

    It felt as if the killer had respected her honor even in death. Or perhaps there was some other special meaning behind it.

    Who could have done this, and for what reason? As Ricardt thought about it, he felt an odd sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu for some reason.

    In any case, they couldn¡¯t stay long. They had a destination, and lingering here wasn¡¯t an option. Ricardt and Boribori rummaged through the bodies and the carriage.

    They managed to scavenge a few coins, some hard bread, and pieces of jerky. Was that luck?

    After wrapping those items in paper and putting them into their bag, they left the grim scene of the attack behind and continued their journey. If they didn¡¯t reach their destination before sunset, it would be quite a difficult situation.

    They had departed from Beringen in the dark hours of dawn, and if they kept a steady pace, they could reach the ce called ¡°Anna¡¯s Loss¡± by early evening. Fortunately, there was no snow, so they could walk at a quicker pace.

    Boribori kept up better than expected. Considering that he had once made a long journey alone to reach the academy, it was clear that despite being a bit naive, he had quite a tenacious side to him.

    As for hisck of strength, that was rtive. With the advancement of his Mana Drive techniques, Boribori was actually bing stronger, almost like a powerhouse.

    The two boys in dark brown and red cloaks walked across the snowy field along the southwest road.

    By the time the sun began to set, a blizzard started to blow again. Fortunately, they managed to reach arge building on the side of the road.

    It was a two-story building well-equipped enough to have a separate stable attached, though it was empty, and white smoke was rising from the chimney.

    There was a conspicuous, sword-like gash on the wall, as if someone had carved graffiti into it, spelling out the name ¡°Anna¡¯s Loss¡±.

    Ricardt, with a sword slung over one shoulder, opened the door and entered the tavern. A wave of warmth greeted him, but so did an awful stench.

    Inside the tavern, it was filled with people who, at a nce, looked like the worst kind of scum. It seemed like the ce had gathered all the criminals from the northeastern region.

    One man had a cloudy eye like cataracts, another with a few yellow teeth remaining, some with unkempt beards, missing fingers, and faces covered in scars and grime.

    All expressed the worst possible states a human could reach, each in their own unique way.

    As Ricardt and Boribori opened the door, the people inside turned to look at them. Not everyone, though¡ªsome were already passed out drunk, lying haphazardly on the dirty tavern floor.

    ¡°Close the door, it¡¯s cold.¡±

    Someone grumbled. The smell of their breath reached Ricardt, making him squeeze his eyes shut for a moment. But he had a job to do, so he closed the door and stepped into the unpleasant space.

    The crowd seemed curious about why young boys like Ricardt and Boribori were here, but they didn¡¯t pay much attention. The boys were armed, and no one could cause trouble in this ce.

    This was because the tavern was under the control of the Arisen Brotherhood, a thieves¡¯ guild, and served as a neutral zone. Causing trouble here meant turning the entire thieves¡¯ guild against you. Even the roughest criminals knew when to pick their fights¡ªthey would settle disputes outside if they had any.

    Ricardt walked up to the bar. The bartender, however, was more focused on drinking than serving the patrons. He drank straight from the bottle,ughing and flirting with a cheap prostitute.

    Ricardt ced a golden cloak pin on the bar and said,

    ¡°Dunkel sent me.¡±

    At that, the bartender, who had been ignoring them and carrying on, nced down at the golden pin lying on the bar.

    The pin, crafted with meticulous craftsmanship, was not something that could be easily forged. Only then did the bartender properly look at Ricardt.

    After looking back and forth between the cloak pin and Ricardt¡¯s face a few times, he snapped at the prostitute who kept talking without reading the atmosphere.

    ¡°Hey, shut up and get lost.¡±

    ¡°Tch! Asshole.¡±

    The prostitute pouted and red at the bartender before walking away. The bartender, however, paid her no mind and looked back at Ricardt.

    ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s about the Ernburg Five¡­¡±

    ¡°Shut the fuck up.¡±

    The bartender cut Ricardt off as soon as he mentioned it. He mmed the bottle down, shook his head violently, and pped both of his cheeks.

    Then, as if calming his panicked heart, he took a few deep breaths, exhaling loudly before speaking again.

    ¡°So where¡¯s the person who¡¯s ¡®doing the job¡¯?¡±

    The bartender seemed to think Ricardt was just an errand boy.

    ¡°I¡¯m the person ¡®doing the job¡¯.¡±

    ¡°¡­What? Don¡¯t fuck with me. Do I look like aplete idiot to you?¡±

    ¡°Well, you look more like dog shit.¡±

    As the bartender¡¯s words became harsher, Ricardt responded in kind. The bartender was infuriated, but seeing Ricardt¡¯s nonchnt gaze, he sensed something was off.

    Suddenly, something clicked in his mind.

    ¡°Are you¡­ Ricky the Severer?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    The bartender took another close look at Ricardt¡¯s appearance. His blond hair barely covered his ears, and his hazel eyes glimmered beneath it. He wore a winter gambeson with a red cloak draped over his shoulders, and a longsword casually slung over one shoulder.

    His not-yet fully grown frame was what bothered the bartender.

    ¡°No way¡­ even if you are, Dunkel, that bastard. Really¡­ Look, I¡¯ve heard you¡¯re a rare genius with the sword, but this isn¡¯t the job for you. Go back.¡±

    Ricardt blinked in surprise. This wasn¡¯t how he expected things to go. He had assumed that since Dunkel had given his approval, the task was his toplete, but it seemed that wasn¡¯t the case. Had Dunkel sent him here without the real intention of entrusting him with the job? Was it all just a trick?

    That was unknowable. Unless he went back and confronted Dunkel about it. But they had walked all day to get here.

    Unsure of what to do, Ricardt looked back at Boribori, who only shrugged. It wasn¡¯t like Boribori had any better ideas.

    ¡°They said skilled adventurers are too well-known, so it¡¯d be better if a student took on the task.¡±

    ¡°I understand what you¡¯re saying, but no means no. It¡¯s nighttime now, so just get some rest and¡­¡±

    The bartender, who was also a member of the thieves¡¯ guild, didn¡¯t get to finish his sentence. The door to the tavern suddenly swung open with a crash.

    Bang!

    Ricardt and the others inside turned to see what had caused themotion. Arge man stood in the doorway, while the blizzard from outside rushed in behind him, swirling violently into the room.

    Whoooooosh¡­!

    The man was wearing a Nordic-style nasal helmet, with a ck cloth covering the lower half of his face, obscuring his features.

    (TL: Nasal Helmet)

    He was dressed in scale armor and wore a thick apron-like garment over it. His hands were gloved in tough leather, and a leather belt crossed his waist and chest. A rope was tied to his left hip, while a one-handed battle axe hung on his right. He also carried a heavy, blood-stained sack.

    The scale armor only extended to his elbows, revealing his thick, log-like forearms, which were covered in scars.

    He was breathing heavily, almost as if he had difficulty breathing, and he swept his gaze across the tavern. Through the slits of his helmet, his blue eyes gleamed with a predatory glint.

    ¡°Close the door, it¡¯s cold,¡± someone muttered. But the man ignored thement, walking steadily into the tavern.

    In his hand, he held a crumpled piece of paper. He seemed topare someone in the room to the paper for a moment, then casually tossed it aside. The paper turned out to be a wanted poster.

    Suddenly, one of the rough-looking patrons inside the tavern, who had been trembling with fear, let out a shout. That was the trigger.

    ¡°¡­Fuck!¡±

    Swish! Crack!

    The man immediately drew his axe and swung it, splitting someone¡¯s head in an instant. The person whose head had been cleaved copsed to the floor, his body convulsing before going still.

    People leapt up in shock, scrambling to their feet. The drunks lying haphazardly on the tavern floor were trampled, and more than a few people tripped over them as they tried to escape.

    Tables and chairs flipped over, while dice, coins, and cups used for gambling ttered to the ground. The tavern descended into chaos in the blink of an eye.

    ¡°You bastard!¡±

    There were quite a few people in the tavern who could handle themselves in a fight. They drew their weapons and charged at the man. And the man fought like a true beast.

    Whoosh! Thwack! Whizz! ng! Crack! Swoosh!

    He didn¡¯t even bother with minor cuts, letting his armor absorb them. His fists, like iron, crushed faces, and each swing of his heavy axe split heads without fail. He kicked, stomped, and kneed his way through the crowd.

    Bones shattered, broke, and splintered as flesh was torn apart, chunks of torn flesh hitting the floor with sickening sts.

    In an instant, the chaos was over. The floor was soaked in blood, and twisted bodiesy strewn about.

    The man stood in the middle of it all, his shoulders heaving as he took deep, raspy breaths.

    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±

    Whoosh! Thud!

    The man swung his axe down on the neck of someone who had been groaning on the floor. Grabbing the severed head by the hair, he began walking towards Ricardt. With every step, bloody footprints marked the floor, and blood dripped steadily from the severed neck in his hand.

    Standing near Ricardt was the cheap prostitute, trembling uncontrobly, too scared to even scream. Urine trickled down her legs and pooled on the floor beneath her.

    The bartender, who had been talking with Ricardt, copsed to the floor in fear as the man approached. He trembled, overwhelmed by terror.

    Causing a scene in this tavern meant going against the thieves¡¯ guild, didn¡¯t it? But the man seemedpletely unconcerned with such rules or codes.

    Ricardt simply stood there, silently watching the man. The man nced at Ricardt briefly before immediately turning his attention elsewhere, not giving him a second thought. As the man drew closer, his raspy breathing grew even louder.

    He grabbed a bottle of alcohol from the bar and poured it over the cuts and scratches on his forearms. Then, with a careless toss, he discarded the bottle onto the floor.

    ng!

    The man stuffed the severed head into the empty sack he carried and walked out of the tavern, his footsteps heavy. Most of the people inside had huddled into corners, watching him with trembling fear.

    ¡°Na, Nameless, Nameless X¡­¡±

    The bartender, still sitting on the floor, mumbled under his breath. Nameless X was a notorious bounty hunter and one of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords. But why was he here?

    ¡°It must be freezing outside¡­¡±

    Boribori muttered to himself.

    Ricardt was now certain that this man had been the one who attacked the carriage they had seen earlier in the day. There was something about him that reminded Ricardt of his past life, something that made him feel a strange pull, like a ma.

    ¡°Let¡¯s follow him.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°I said, let¡¯s follow him. It doesn¡¯t seem like they¡¯ll give us any information if we stay here anyway.¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s freezing outside.¡±

    ¡°We have no choice.¡±

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°Grab antern before we leave.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Boribori grabbed antern from the tavern without asking for permission.

    The two boys then walked towards the entrance, where the blizzard was still raging. As they left, they made sure to close the door behind them.

    Clunk.

    The inside of the tavern fell silent again, though it was now in utter disarray.

    No one dared to make a sound, and the only noise that echoed through the room was the soft drip, drip of blood falling from the edge of a table.

 Chapter 35

    Chapter 35

    Trantor: Willia

    No one knew his past. And it didn¡¯t seem like he lived with tomorrow in mind either. A man with neither a past nor a future. That¡¯s why he had no name.

    People called him the Nameless, and since he simply signed ¡°X¡± on contracts, he was called X.

    Now, he was like a tiger roaming the snowfield alone. Cutting through the fierce blizzard, heading somewhere beyond the pitch-ck darkness.

    Yet, like two little birds recklessly hovering around a tiger, two boys followed behind the Nameless.

    The swirling snowshed against their faces. They had to hold their hoods with one hand to keep them from being blown off. Their noses quickly became numb.

    Boribori, holding antern that swayed and creaked in the wind, walked ahead of Ricardt.

    Ricardt, hindered by the darkness and blizzard, didn¡¯t take his eyes off the faint figure of the Nameless, who seemed as if he could disappear at any moment. Even though he must have known they were following him, he never looked back.

    One hour, two hours, they kept walking through the midnight blizzard. It was truly an unbearable ordeal.

    Compared to Boribori, who could now use mana drive quite properly, Ricardt was having a harder time.

    They had walked for over two hours now, so returning to the tavern would be difficult. There was no guarantee that there was a ce ahead where they could rest.

    Even if there was, how much farther would they have to walk? Should they keep going forward, or turn back now? They could really end up stranded and dying here, unable to go any further.

    But then, the Nameless, who had been walking ahead, suddenly copsed into the snow.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    Ricardt and Boribori hurried over to him. In the brief moment it took to reach him, a thinyer of snow already covered his back. If they left him like this, he would quickly be buried and die.

    Ricardt tried to lift him by his shoulders, but the man was too heavy, being bothrge and heavily armored.

    ¡°I¡¯ll carry him.¡±

    Boribori handed thentern to Ricardt and spoke.

    As Ricardt took thentern, Boribori squeezed his eyes shut, groaning as he managed to lift the Nameless halfway, and with Ricardt¡¯s help, hoisted him onto his back.

    The enormous weight pressed down on Boribori¡¯s body. So, Boribori started to seriously use his Mana Drive. Trying to forget the hardship, he focused his mind and asked,

    ¡°Where to now?¡±

    Well¡­ Ricardt held thentern up and looked around. The visibility was so poor due to the darkness and raging blizzard that they could barely see a few meters ahead.

    Whiiiiiiiiiiish¡­!

    Even Ricardt, with his keen sense of deduction, could do nothing but leave it up to luck now. Either that, or pray to the gods.

    Was it a mistake to have followed him without a clear reason? No, if it weren¡¯t for them, he would have died. Whether it was a twist of fate or divine guidance, they had no choice but to move forward.

    Ricardt held thentern and walked, trudging through the snow. Without knowing where he was going, or where he was headed. The only light to guide him was his own will.

    The journey was so exhausting that every minute felt like ten years, yet they kept walking for another hour.

    He was so tired that at first, a thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but eventually, he thought of nothing at all, just moving his legs. Then suddenly, he noticed that the blizzard had eased up.

    To be exact, they had entered a forest, where the trees were blocking the storm.

    Ricardt breathed a sigh of relief and shone thentern around. Then, trusting some instinctive sense, he searched for a ce to rest.

    And as if by a miracle, they came across a terrain where the ground protruded, offering a natural shelter.

    ¡°Let¡¯sy him down here.¡±

    Ricardt said. Boribori, who had silently followed the entire time while carrying the heavy, armored man without uttering a word, finally set the Nameless down.

    Ricardt grunted and strained, trying to position the Nameless so that he wouldn¡¯t fall over his face or copse onto the ground, propping him up against the wall.

    As soon as Boribori set him down, he copsed t on the ground, arms and legs spread wide. With his eyes tightly shut, he gasped for breath, panting heavily.

    Ricardt hung thentern on what looked like a root or branch sticking through the ceiling. The sound of the wind howling around them felt like the wails of a beast.

    ¡°You did well.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°Stay lying down. I¡¯ll start a fire.¡±

    Ricardt rummaged through his bag, pulling out the dry tinder and flint he had prepared beforehand, and started a fire.

    He gathered some stones nearby to make a makeshift hearth and picked up rtively less damp branches to build up the mes.

    The weak mes flickered as if they would die out at any moment, but Ricardt carefully cupped his hands around them and gently blew. The fire responded, growing stronger.

    Once it reached a certain size, the mes burned steadily on their own, like an adult standing firm. The fire roared to life.

    By that time, Boribori had sat up to warm himself by the fire. He took off his boots and gloves to dry them and pulled out some food from his bag.

    As they settled in, Ricardt nced over at the Nameless. His helmet, armor, and all his gear seemed to bear the marks of countless hardships.

    ¡°What should we do?¡±

    Boribori asked.

    In winter, it was crucial to always take off gloves or shoes and dry them during rest. The difference in temperature caused moisture to umte, which would swell up the hands and feet, leading to frostbite.

    ¡°For now, let¡¯s take off his equipment and cover him with a cloak.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    The two boys, like small birds picking parasites off arge beast, clung to the Nameless and began removing his gear.

    They started by taking off his gloves and boots, then moved on to his helmet. As Boribori removed the helmet, he gasped in shock.

    ¡°Eek!¡±

    The man¡¯s face was covered in horrific burn scars. His flesh had melted away, and it seemed as though it was difficult for him to breathe because of it. That¡¯s why there had been that raspy, wheezing sound earlier.

    It was hard to believe that someone in such a state could have fought so fiercely. Moreover, he had overwhelmed multiple opponents at once.

    Carefully, they removed his armor, revealing a body covered in burns, cuts, stab wounds, and gashes¡ªscars from all kinds of injuries.

    They also discovered crude, tattoo-like scribbles etched into his skin. Oddly enough, the tattoos were inscribed upside down.

    Why would they be upside down? After thinking about it for a moment, it seemed the tattoos were not meant to be shown to others but for the man to see himself.

    Among the jagged tattoos, thergest inscription ran across his chest. Since it was upside down, Ricardt slowly read the words:

    Ricardt and Boribori were momentarily stunned into silence by the overwhelming intensity of the message. Looking again, the crudely tattooed words seemed to ze like fire.

    Soon regaining theirposure and examining the other writings, they were all names of people, clues, appearances, areas of activity, things like that.

    Many of the names had been scratched out with an X, likely indicating that his revenge had been carried out. His body was a gruesome ledger of vengeance.

    ne that looked like a rtively recent wound read ¡®Lily ¨C Traitor¡¯. Was she the woman they had seen in the carriage?

    There were still a few names left that hadn¡¯t been crossed out, and one of them caught Ricardt¡¯s eye.

    Ricardt instinctively knew that this Steiner was the same Steiner who was the leader of the Ernburg Five and one of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords.

    Meanwhile, Boribori¡¯s mouth had formed a perfect circle, and he rapidly blinked his wide-open eyes. He had never seen such a terrifying, tragic, and pitiful body before.

    The more vengeance he exacted, the more scars appeared. It seemed as though thepletion of his revenge was slowly consuming what was left of his life. His body revealed these traces without the slightest attempt to hide them.

    Without even realizing it, Boribori pulled a towel out of his bag, dipped it into the snow piled around the cave, and warmed it by the fire. Once it was warm enough, he began wiping the Nameless¡¯s body.

    Each scarred name, each word carved with vengeance¡­

    Meanwhile, Ricardt roasted some potatoes and sweet potatoes in the fire and pulled out jerky to prepare a simple meal.

    After cleaning the Nameless¡¯s body, Boribori took some herbs he had brought with him, chewed them thoroughly, and applied the paste to the wounds on the man¡¯s forearm.

    At that moment, he suddenly looked up to find the Nameless staring down at him with calm, sky-blue eyes.

    ¡°Gah!¡±

    Boribori was so startled that he threw the towel and fell on his bottom.

    Ricardt, who had been poking the potatoes to check if they were done, was startled as well. He turned to see what was happening and saw that the Nameless had woken up.

    ¡°Uh¡­ Hello? You were copsed on the road, so¡­¡±

    Trying his best to be polite, Ricardt greeted the man, though the situation was undeniably awkward. The Nameless, leaning against the wall, turned only his eyes toward the two boys, saying nothing.

    The awkward silence stretched on until Ricardt spoke calmly.

    ¡°So, um¡­ we¡¯re currently trying to kill two of the Ernburg Five, a people named Reto and Erze. If you¡¯re going after Steiner, why don¡¯t we join forces for a bit?¡±

    Ricardt motioned toward the man¡¯s tattoos, suggesting they could help each other since their objectives ovepped.

    But the Nameless simply turned his head away and closed his eyes. It seemed he was trying to sleep, though the whole situation felt strange. Very odd, in fact.

    Was he sleeping so carelessly because he underestimated them, or did he trust them? It was hard to tell. After all, no matter how young they looked, they were still armed.

    ¡°M-maybe he can¡¯t speak.¡±

    Boribori suggested. That could be possible. If his vocal cords were damaged when he got burned.

    ¡°He looks a bit creepy and scary, but I don¡¯t think he¡¯s a bad guy.¡±

    ¡°Bori, even if he can¡¯t talk, he might still be able to hear.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Oh, r-right!¡±

    Realizing his slip, Boribori turned to nce at the Nameless. However, the man just remained still, with his head turned away.

    ¡°What should we do? Sh-should I apologize?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Just cover him with the cloak. Come over here and you share with me.¡±

    ¡°O-okay.¡±

    Boribori carefully removed his own cloak and gently draped it over the Nameless. He arranged it as neatly as he could. The man didn¡¯t move.

    Boribori then came over to Ricardt and sat next to him, sharing the cloak. They quietly ate their meal, taking care of each other as they did.

    ¡°He must be hungry¡­¡±

    Boribori muttered, casting a quick nce toward the Nameless. But the man showed no sign of reacting.

    After finishing their meal, Ricardt and Boribori decided to take turns standing watch for the night. Their goal wasn¡¯t so much to fend off any attackers or animals but to keep the fire going, which was more important at the moment.

    And so the somewhat scary, awkward, and strange night deepened. The blizzard raged all night long.

    Whooooosh¡­!

    The next morning, at dawn, the two boys were fast asleep, huddled together under a single cloak.

    The Nameless, having apparently slept at some point, quietly rose and began putting on his gear.

    The cloak he had borrowed was left behind as he prepared to leave. But just as he was about to depart, Ricardt, who had seemed to be asleep, spoke up.

    ¡°What happens if you die before you finish your revenge?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°Take a good look at yourself. Are you really moving for revenge, or are you just punishing yourself? You look like you could copse at any moment.¡±

    The Nameless, now fully armored, with his signature helmet covering his entire face, nced briefly at Ricardt before silently walking away.

    ¡°Bori. Bori. Wake up.¡±

    ¡°¡­Huh? What¡­?¡±

    ¡°The guy just left. Let¡¯s follow him.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Oh, right. What? He¡¯s really gone? Let¡¯s go, let¡¯s go.¡±

    Ricardt and Boribori hurriedly packed their things, snuffed out the now cold fire by stamping it with their feet, and set out on the road.

    The blizzard that had howled like a sorrowful beast through the night had finally passed. However, it was still dawn, and the world remained shrouded in darkness.

    Ricardt and Boribori walked out of the forest, following the faint ck silhouette ahead of them.

    As time passed, the sky gradually brightened, and from the distant horizon, today¡¯s sun began to rise. As the grand sunlight spread over the snowy field, it was dazzling.

    The two boys followed the path the Nameless had carved through the snow, asionally teasing and ying with each other. They were like two carefree tiger cubs trailing behind their father tiger.

    The sun rose higher and higher in the sky.

 Chapter 36

    Chapter 36

    Trantor: Willia

    The ce Ricardt and Boribori arrived at, following the Nameless, was a small city called Magdestadt. Though it was small in scale, it was a city with a long and distinguished history.

    There were many buildings that had been constructed a long time ago, and though they were historical relics, people still actively used them in their daily lives. It was truly a city that naturally exuded an old-fashioned charm.

    However, contrary to the city¡¯s disy of antique beauty, the expressions on the citizens¡¯ faces were filled with worry and concern. It seemed that the struggle to make a living was no different here.

    A skinny dog was wandering around the street with its nose pressed to the ground, and it lifted its head when it seemed to catch the scent of the food in Ricardt¡¯s bag.

    It wagged its tail weakly, which was truly heartbreaking sight. But with people barely scraping by, they couldn¡¯t afford to give food to a dog.

    Yet, Ricardt and Boribori had another serious problem. The issue was that this city was the territory of the Brabant Adventurers¡¯ Guild.

    Adventurer guilds were fundamentally in apetitive rtionship with one another. Among them, thepetition between guilds operating in ovepping territories was particrly bloody.

    Thinking back to the brutal sword fights they had experienced with the Rubens Guild, Ricardt and Boribori were aware that this was not a safe ce for them.

    The destination the Nameless was heading to, however, was none other than the branch of the Brabant Adventurers¡¯ Guild. Naturally, there were many armed adventurers around the building.

    Though Ricardt wasn¡¯t particrly afraid, he felt uneasy at the thought that he needed to conceal his identity.

    Well, it¡¯s not like he was walking around with ¡®Beringen Adventurers¡¯ Guild Academy Students¡¯ written on his foreheads, so he thought it would be fine if he kept quiet.

    But as the Nameless entered the building, and as Ricardt and Boribori tried to follow, someone blocked their way.

    ¡°Who are you guys?¡±

    The person scanned Ricardt and Boribori up and down. To him they seemed young but were carrying weapons, which made them look somewhat suspicious.

    ¡°Uh¡­ the person who just went in is our dad. Right, hyung?¡±

    Boribori lied without batting an eye. It was so natural that Ricardt stared at him, wide-eyed in surprise.

    Boribori was actually two years older than Ricardt, so calling him ¡°hyung¡± wwas odd, but from the outside, they looked about the same age, so it didn¡¯t really matter.

    The person blocking the way looked puzzled for a moment, as if something was off, but then seemed to dismiss it, thinking that the young ones were probably carrying weapons to assist their father. Without a word, he stepped aside.

    In that way, Ricardt and Boribori fearlessly entered the heart of what could be considered enemy territory.

    The Nameless had ced two severed heads on the table and was in the process of receiving payment. It seemed that apart from seeking revenge, he also earned his living through bounty hunting.

    One of the adventurers took the heads, examined their appearance and features, then quickly got rid of the gruesome sight and handed over a receipt-like paper for the bounty.

    As Ricardt and Boribori watched from the side, they saw that the Nameless¡¯s signature was simply an X.

    The adventurer, seeing this, didn¡¯t seem to recognize that the X belonged to one of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords, the Nameless ¡°X¡±. After all, it was hard to imagine such a figure showing up in the peaceful daily life.

    This was because most people in the world were illiterate and simply marked their signatures with a dot, circle, or an X. The Nameless¡¯s signature method wasn¡¯t unique.

    Moreover, this wasn¡¯t a time when media outlets existed, so even if his reputation was widespread, it was easy not to recognize him when encountering him in person.

    ¡°Would you like it mixed with gold coins? Or should I mix in some silver and copper coins?¡±

    Gold coins were high in value, so they were rarely used except inrge transactions with tradingpanies. If exchanged for silver or copper coins, the weight would be considerable, so the adventurer was simply asking out of practicality.

    However, the Nameless didn¡¯t respond, simply staring at the adventurer through his helmet, whichpletely covered his head.

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°Instead of money, I¡¯d like to get some medical supplies, travel provisions, a whetstone, flint, and firewood, if possible,¡±

    Ricardt, standing next to the Nameless, spoke. The adventurer nced at Ricardt with a look that said, ¡°Who¡¯s this kid?¡± and alternated his gaze between Ricardt and the Nameless. Since the Nameless said nothing, the adventurer simply nodded.

    ¡°You know food¡¯s worth its weight in gold during the winter, right?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll give us a fair amount, I¡¯m sure. If you want to keep doing good business in the future, that is.¡±

    At Ricardt¡¯s bold words, the adventurer let out a slight chuckle before wrapping quality ham, cheese, jerky, hardtack, and liquor in paper and handing it over. Since this was an adventurer¡¯s guild, they were always well-stocked with travel supplies.

    The Nameless watched as Ricardt received goods instead of money, then walked over to the building¡¯s wall with his steady steps, examining the randomly posted bounty notices. He casually tore one down.

    ¡°Hey! You can¡¯t just tear¡ª¡±

    ¡°You can keep the change.¡±

    Ricardt spoke as if he had paid the price and hurriedly followed the Nameless, who was already heading out of the building.

    Although the Nameless hade to a city, he didn¡¯t even consider stopping by an inn for a hot bath or afortable rest. Instead, he immediately left the city, as if he couldn¡¯t afford to waste any time¡ªor as if he didn¡¯t have much time left to live.

    With his ufortable and injured body, without ever showing any weakness to anyone, the tiger walked on solely for the sake of revenge.

    Ricardt and Boribori followed, and the distance between them and the Nameless had shortenedpared to before.

    ¡°By the way, didn¡¯t the old man not eat anything since yesterday, right?¡±

    Boribori asked Ricardt, who nodded in response. Boribori then took out the food they had just received from his bag and brought it to the Nameless.

    ¡°Uh¡­ I noticed you haven¡¯t eaten anything since yesterday¡­¡±

    At this, the Nameless reached out, grabbed the chunk of meat, and shoved it under the cloth that covered his lower face, devouring it inrge bites. It must¡¯ve been incredibly salty.

    But the saltiness was quickly neutralized as he gulped down strong liquor in big swigs. After drinking it all in one go, he nonchntly tossed the empty bottle away.

    ¡°¡­You could take your time eating¡­¡±

    The Nameless ate so much and so quickly that it seemed worrying, almost as if his health might take a hit.

    Seeing that he didn¡¯t refuse the food, Ricardt approached and struck up a conversation.

    ¡°So, who¡¯s the next target? Is it someone on that bounty notice?¡±

    The Nameless gave Ricardt a brief nce before turning his head away, ignoring him. Was it because he didn¡¯t trust them, or was it simply more convenient for him to handle things alone? Since he couldn¡¯t speak, there was no way to know.

    However, not long after they left the city, some people started following Ricardt¡¯s group.

    They maintained a barely noticeable distance, so it was unclear whether they were simply heading in the same direction or had some other motive.

    But Ricardt quickly figured it out. He recognized that those people had been following them ever since they left the guild after collecting the bounty. He remembered their fleeting appearances as they passed by. This was why it was better to spend at least one night in the city after visiting the guild.

    Leaving the city immediately after visiting an adventurer¡¯s guild branch was practically announcing to the world that you had just made a lot of money.

    The people following them were like starving wolves, watching for an opportunity. The longer they walked, the more obvious their intentions became. They were after money or food.

    Then, the Nameless suddenly nudged Ricardt aside and pointed in a certain direction, gesturing for him to go that way.

    Only then did Ricardt realize, ¡®Ah, he¡¯s worried about us.¡¯

    Ricardt smiled faintly and tapped the sword hanging over his shoulder, saying

    ¡°We¡¯re not that naive about the ways of the world. It¡¯s not like we¡¯re wandering out here, blindly relying on our weapons. Like I said before, we¡¯re on our way to kill the Experimenter Reto and the Skin Collector Erze.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    The Nameless simply looked down at Ricardt silently. And at that moment, the people who had been following them came walking from the front, having apparently taken a different route.

    There were more than ten of them. None of them were as heavily armed as the Nameless, but they were carrying things like simple spears, hooked spears, swords, and clubs.

    They weren¡¯t adventurers. Their weapons and armor were too crude for that. They seemed to be more than mere thugs, but not quite organized bandits either.

    They appeared to be a group that asionally robbed people¡ªthough not living as full-time bandits, they had clearly done this kind of thing before.

    In other words, they weren¡¯t professional robbers or thieves, but they had the air of people who had done this kind of thing from time to time.

    Keeping some distance, one of them shouted toward Ricardt and hispanions.

    ¡°Hey! Drop your weapons and we¡¯ll let you live! You can count, right? There are three of you! And fifteen of us!¡±

    There¡¯s probably no more absurd phrase in the world than a robber saying, ¡°Drop your weapons and we¡¯ll let you live.¡±

    The Nameless looked quietly at Ricardt and Boribori, then shifted his gaze back to the group. As he did so, he pulled out a throwing axe that was attached to the belt across his chest.

    And then, without any warning, he just threw it.

    Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh!

    The heavy axe cut through the air with a terrifying sound. It was fast and urate. The Nameless wasn¡¯t one for shy techniques¡ªhe fought with raw power and precision.

    However, because the distance was still a bit far, the first target flinched in surprise, fell backward on his butt, and narrowly avoided the axe by sheer luck.

    ¡°Eek!¡±

    Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh! Thunk!

    But the second axe didn¡¯t miss. It struck another man in the head, and his neck snapped back violently as the axe buried itself deep.

    The Nameless grabbed a rope from his waist, spinning it as he approached the group. The end of the rope had a hook attached. It was only then that the men raised their weapons.

    ¡°Tony!¡±

    ¡°You fucking bastard! You want to fight?! Let¡¯s go!¡±

    The Nameless swung the rope at the man who had shouted. The man, holding a spear, tried to block it awkwardly, but it wasn¡¯t a weapon that could be blocked. He should have dodged it.

    The rope wrapped around the shaft of the spear, but instead of stopping, it became a pivot that swung around the man¡¯s neck. The hook lodged itself into his corbone.

    ¡°Aaargh!¡±

    The Nameless had incredible strength, dragging the fully grown man across the ground. Only then did the others with weapons charge in.

    ¡°Fuck! Get him!¡±

    ¡°Bastards!¡±

    They might have been called bastards, but in the heat of a life-or-death struggle, there was no need to get hung up on insults.

    The Nameless drew his battle axe and split the skull of the man he had just dragged toward him. Then, as the others rushed at him, someone shouted:

    ¡°Go for the kids!¡±

    It was only then that Ricardt unsheathed the sword hanging over his shoulder. The de, with a subtle wave pattern, gleamed under the cold winter sun.

    Ricardt walked forward calmly. As he approached, he dodged to the right, easily avoiding one of the attackers who failed to measure the distance properly, slicing deep into his side with a quick sh.

    Immediately afterward, Ricardt dodged left, swinging his sword in the opposite direction to cut down the next man. He didn¡¯t take a single step backward, continuing to advance. As warm blood sttered onto the cold snow, a hole formed, just the size of the ssh.

    The next attacker thrust a spear at him, but Ricardt smoothly twisted his body to evade it, using his sword to push the spear shaft aside. Then, he rammed into the man¡¯s chest with his shoulder, and as the man fell backward, Ricardt brought his sword down in a swift arc, splitting his head.

    Thunk!

    In the brief opening, another opponent lunged at Ricardt from the left, thrusting a sword at him. Ricardt dodged the tip of the de by turning his body, but they still collided slightly.

    However, Ricardt had already drawn a dagger at some point. He shed upward diagonally with the dagger held in his left hand, slicing open the man¡¯s abdomen. His intestines spilled out. Ricardt quickly stepped back, as if afraid the blood might stain his clothes.

    While Ricardt swiftly dispatched four men, another attacker rushed at Boribori.

    Boribori drew his side sword with one hand, standing in a natural stance with his head lowered, muttering to himself.

    Then, just as the enemy¡¯s hand axe reached right in front of him, he raised his head and swung his sword.

    Swish swish! Swoosh!

    Thud. Plop.

    The sound of two objects hitting the snow could be heard. The enemy was certain he had struck Boribori properly, but he hadn¡¯t. That was because his two wrists were now gone. Blood droplets from the severed stumps sttered onto Boribori.

    The two severed hands had already fallen to the snow, and the dark outline of their remnants flickered before the enemy¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Huh¡­?¡±

    Before the opponent could even process the pain, before he couldprehend the fatal oue, he seemed to have no idea what had just happened. After all, in the blink of an eye, both of his hands had disappeared.

    However, Boribori¡¯s swift sword didn¡¯t stop and continued to draw arcs. At thest, he shed precisely horizontally with a swish! and the enemy¡¯s head toppled off.

    The man¡¯s body, now in pieces,y scattered across the snow in at least five parts, including the limbs. It was a truly gruesome sight.

    By now, Ricardt had finished dispatching his own enemies and casually approached. He nced at the dismembered body in front of Boribori and remarked:

    ¡°That seems a bit excessive.¡±

    Ricardt, who preferred short, concise strikes that finished the job in a single blow, found Boribori¡¯s actions to be somewhat over the top.

    ¡°But I needed to write something¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true. Anyway, you did well for your first time.¡±

    ¡°Hehehe¡±

    As Boriboriughed shyly, the Nameless approached with steady steps. He nced over the bodies that Ricardt had dealt with as he walked.

    Finally reaching the two boys, he stood silently, looking down at the excessively dismembered body that Boribori had cut apart.

    Ricardt spoke up to him.

    ¡°So, what do you think? We¡¯re more useful than you thought, right?¡±

    The Nameless seemed to ponder for a moment, and then, for the first time, he expressed something vocally.

    ¡°Hmm.¡±

 Chapter 37

    Chapter 37

    Trantor: Willia

    Ricardt, Boribori, and the Nameless were now practically a group. Although they hadn¡¯t made any explicit promises or contracts, it seemed like they had joined forces to achieve their respective goals. Or perhaps, without even realizing it, they had naturally grown ustomed to each other.

    The three headed west. To Ernburg. However, they weren¡¯t immediately tracking the Ernburg Five. This was because there was someone closer to deal with first. For now, they headed in that direction.

    There was still some time left before sunset, but the group chose to find a ce to camp early. The spot they settled on seemed to be amon resting ce for travelers, with old signs of previous upants.

    Ricardt brushed away cobwebs with the sheath of his sword and swept the ground with his foot to chase away the bugs. He then lit a fire in an old makeshift hearth that was already there. It was fortunate that there were a few pieces of firewood scattered around.

    Sitting down, Ricardt unfolded the wanted poster the Nameless had brought. The picture showed a disgustingly smug, overweight man with an unsettling grin.

    Below the image was a brief introduction and description of the criminal, along with his crime history.

    [Haspil ¨C Also known as ¡°The One Who Makes Mothers Weep.¡± Leader of the so-called ¡®Murder Guild¡¯, a criminal organization.

    Criminal History ¨C Murdering clergy, raping and murdering multiple women, multiple murders, looting monasteries, torture, human trafficking, dealing in stolen goods.

    Main area of activity ¨C Siegfringer. Could be elsewhere else too. There is a possibility of connections with other dangerous criminal organizations.

    In the name of the gods and the Empire, a reward of 40 gold coins will be given for capturing this criminal alive, and 10 gold coins for bringing in his head.]

    ¡°Hey¡­¡±

    Ricardt let out a subconscious exmation. The man was truly a vile scum, enough to make him wonder if there could be an even worse bastard than this. Setting aside the Nameless¡¯s personal revenge, it was astonishing that someone like this even existed.

    But the problem, though, was the difficulty. In some ways, it seemed like it could be even harder than dealing with the Ernburg Five.

    Still, Ricardt didn¡¯t think it was impossible. Difficult and impossible were entirely different concepts, and in his philosophy, any human could be killed.

    Various vague ns began to form in Ricardt¡¯s mind. He already knew several methods to handle arger group with a smaller force, and he was well-versed in exploiting the weaknesses of people like this.

    A group of criminals was bound to be poorly organized. Without rules, theycked structure, and while they might talk about loyalty and brotherhood among themselves, when a decisive moment arrived, they¡¯d betray each other as easily as flipping a hand.

    There were two main ways to bring down such a group: either weaken their unity through division or instill more fear than their leadermanded.

    Ricardt decided he would start by gathering information in and around Siegfringer.

    The big n was to help the Nameless achieve his revenge, and then take on the Ernburg Five together. His help wasn¡¯t just out of goodwill.

    The ultimate goal was toplete themission so that the academy students wouldn¡¯t go hungry and could survive the winter safely.

    While Ricardt was mulling over his ns and strategies, Boribori returned to the campsite after wandering off somewhere. He held his hands together as if he had brought something back¡ªmaybe he¡¯d caught some bugs?

    With a silly grin, Boribori spoke to the Nameless and Ricardt.

    ¡°Guess what I brought.¡±

    ¡°Did you bring some caterpirs as snacks?¡±

    ¡°No. Look closely.¡±

    Boribori opened his hands to reveal a bright red camellia flower. It had a bit of moisture from the snow, making it look fresh and vibrant.

    ¡°Ta-da! Flowers can bloom even in winter!¡±

    Ricardt was briefly curious but then quickly lost interest. While he respected Boribori¡¯s tastes, it wasn¡¯t something he particrly cared about.

    However, the Nameless suddenly grabbed the flower, stuffed it under the cloth covering his helmet, and started chewing on it.

    ¡°Uh, it¡¯s not really for eating¡­¡±

    Boribori was flustered, but the Nameless swallowed it down without a care.

    It was utterly absurd, but in any case, to muster the strength for a long journey, they had to eat well¡ªwhether it was flowers or whatever.

    They roasted some staple crops like potatoes, corn, and sweet potatoes over the fire, melted snow in a pot to mix in grain powder, and drank it. They also sliced up some ham and ate that. While it wasn¡¯t a feast, they still managed to get a bnced amount of nutrition.

    At one point, Boribori was eating sloppily with something stuck around his mouth, and the Nameless silently reached out and wiped it off for him. Huh?

    Ricardt, watching from the side, felt slightly bewildered, wondering what this was, but on the other hand, he felt a strange sense of emotion.

    There was something profound to be sensed in that small gesture. It was as if they had established a connection with a fierce, untamed beast that couldn¡¯t speak.

    As for Boribori, the one involved, he didn¡¯t seem embarrassed at all and just smiled his usual sunny smile.

    Anyway, after spending the night outdoors, the three continued their walk toward Siegfringer the next day.

    Along the way, they stopped by a vige, bartering some potatoes in exchange for shelter in a barn.

    They went around asking in each vige about Haspil or his criminal organization, the Murder Guild. However, the vigers, who had never left their viges, responded as if they were hearing these names for the first time.

    Then, as they got closer to Siegfringer, one farmer was startled when Ricardt asked and ran away in fear.

    Seeing a rural man flee despite being offered valuable food in exchange for information made Ricardt feel that they were indeed getting closer.

    They stopped asking around after that. They had found out where Haspil¡¯s main area of activity was¡ªLunenberg, a city within the Siegfringer region.

    The Thieves¡¯ Guild in that area was said to be user Haspil¡¯s control, and the bandits based in the nearby Lunen Mountain were his followers.

    Apparently, the way it worked was that Haspil would move freely around the city under the protection of the Thieves¡¯ Guild, but if things got tense, he would hide in the mountains for a while.

    The collective name for both the Thieves¡¯ Guild and the bandits was ¡°The Murder Guild¡±, and as the name suggested, their primary business was contract killings.

    But these contract killings were far from professional¡ªthey were crude. Often, they wouldn¡¯t even begin the job after taking on a request and instead would turn around and extort money from the client through threats.

    In other words, while they called themselves the ¡°Murder Guild¡±, what they really did was little more than thuggish racketeering.

    Whether it could be called a business was debatable, but Ricardt couldn¡¯t help but wonder how they hadn¡¯t gone bankrupt with such shoddy operations.

    ¡°Let¡¯s be honest here. When the Adventurers¡¯ Guild takes on shady requests, they only deal with people who have a lot of money or high status. But anyone, regardless of status, can want someone dead. There¡¯s bound to be a woman out there who wants to kill her cheating husband, right? But who¡¯s going to fulfill those people¡¯s wishes? When someone hates another so much they want them dead, they can¡¯t think rationally. That¡¯s why, even with a bad reputation, people with money flock to them. The business never dries up. For that lousy organization to go under, people would have to be virtuous, but life¡¯s hard, and the people you trusted and loved are always bound to drive nails into your heart. That¡¯s why, no matter how poorly it¡¯s run, it won¡¯t go under.¡±

    A merchant, organizing his cargo on a wagon, said this. Ricardt handed him a silver coin in exchange for the information.

    The merchant, seemingly pleased with the amount of money he received, offered one more piece of advice.

    ¡°Haspil is an insatiable gambling addict. If he¡¯s not hiding out in the mountains, you can easily find him at a tavern called ¡®Mother¡¯s Sorrow.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Thank you. Best of luck to you.¡±

    After buying a cloak from the merchant, Ricardt and hispanions set out for Lunenberg.

    The cloak wasrge enough to fully cover the Nameless¡¯s body. It wasn¡¯t a regr item for sale but something used by one of therger-built men in the merchant¡¯s group, so it had a bit of a smell. However, after dusting it off, they draped it over the Nameless, who didn¡¯t seem to care about the smell at all.

    When they arrived in Lunenberg, Ricardt didn¡¯t immediately enter the city. Instead, he scouted the surrounding areas. Sure enough, there was a mountain visible to the south. Between the mountain and the city flowed a river.

    Ricardt, after walking around for a bit, found a ce where they could hide and then spoke.

    ¡°Here¡¯s the n. First, let¡¯s get a room in the city. Boribori and I will pose as customers and head to the gambling den. You, sir, will stand by as our bodyguard. We¡¯ll observe the situation, then head back to our lodging toe up with a more concrete n. On the day of execution, we¡¯ll regroup here. How does that sound?¡±

    Boribori, having only learned some sword skills, was inexperienced in handling such operations. So, he just nodded along without much thought.

    However, the Nameless remained still, seemingly displeased or uncertain about something.

    Ricardt knew why he wasn¡¯t reacting. It wasn¡¯t hard to guess, considering the Nameless¡¯s usual way of fighting.

    ¡°I understand there¡¯s a chance things could go south. You might not be able to hold back and end up killing someone on the spot. That¡¯s fine. Boribori and I will handle the aftermath. You just need to clear an escape route for us.¡±

    At that, the Nameless finally nodded.

    Though Ricardt and the Nameless had different styles, both were professionals in this kind of work. How well they would sync could only be determined once they actually worked together on the job.

    Ricardt also had a good understanding of how each member¡¯s strengths aligned, which helped him delegate roles. The Nameless was excellent at breaking through obstacles, while Ricardt was better at countering and responding. So, despite being just three people, they divided their roles into front and rear forces.

    After roughly forming their n, Ricardt, Boribori, and the Nameless entered Lunenberg and secured a room at an inn as close to the city gates as possible.

    Afterwards, when night fell, they headed to the tavern called ¡®Mother¡¯s Sorrow¡¯. Contrary to expectations, the tavern wasn¡¯t in some shady back alley but located right in the bustling part of the city. When Ricardt showed the doorman a coin purse full of silver, they were let in without any questions about their age, status, or identity. After all, in a gambling den, anyone with money is treated like a king.

    Upon entering, it was as bright as daytime. Thousands of candles lit up the room, and the thick scent of wax was dizzying. However, the people inside didn¡¯t seem to notice, their eyes gleaming with the madness of greed.

    Wealthy merchants, even nobles, as well as people who had gambled away all they owned, sat at tables engrossed in their games. The establishment provided fine liquor and prostitutes to cater to its patrons.

    The gamblers stared intently at the dealers, their faces tense, and when the results were revealed, some either burst into cheers loud enough to break the gambling den while others sighed deeply as if the ce would copse under the weight of their disappointment.

    So intoxicated by the uncertain thrill, none of them paid any attention to Ricardt¡¯s group.

    Boribori¡¯s eyes went wide as he gawked at the strange and dazzling world before him, while Ricardt calmly surveyed theyout: where the security personnel were stationed, where reinforcements mighte from, and which escape routes were the safest.

    Once he had a rough idea of the building¡¯s structure, they sat down at a long table. Four people were already seated, and the dealer was hosting a simple game: two dice ced in a bowl, which was then flipped on the table for a game of even or odd.

    For each round, the dealer would put two dice on his fingers, lift the bowl to show there was nothing wrong on both sides, and then proceed with the game. From the outside, there really seemed to be nothing wrong.

    ¡°Even! Odd! Even!¡±

    The dealer shouted, trying to hype up the game. He swiftly dropped the dice into the bowl, mmed it upside down on the table, and gave it a shake before bringing it to a halt with a sharp tter.

    ¡°Life or death!¡±

    When the dealer yelled, and the people at the table ced their bets. There were no copper coins¡ªonly silver coins. Each wager was quite hefty.

    The sound of the dice rattling and the clinking of coins was strangely pleasant to the ears.

    Ricardt watched the flow of the game for now. One round, two rounds, three rounds, four rounds¡­

    By the fifth round, the dealer spoke up.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to ce a bet? If not, you¡¯ll need to pay for your seat.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll y now.¡±

    Then the dealer silently rolled the dice again. But, Ricardt stared at the overturned bowl and then bet all the money he had on even. It was as much as 20 silver coins.

    At this, everyone, including the dealer, looked surprised. While the other tables were noisy, a brief silence fell over Ricardt¡¯s table. The dealer slowly lifted the bowl, and the result was even.

    ¡°Gasp!¡±

    ¡°Wow!¡±

    ¡°Crazy!¡±

    The gamblers at the same table were wide-eyed in disbelief. This is why people gamble, one might think, but the owner of the luck wasn¡¯t themselves. Still, just watching made their hearts swell.

    The dealer, with a seriously hardened expression, took money from under the table andbined it with the money of those who got it wrong, then paid out to those who bet on even as much as they had bet. Ricardt¡¯s money increased to 42 silver coins. In the blink of an eye.

    ¡°Ri-Ricky, we¡¯re rich! What do we do?¡±

    Boribori, overwhelmed with excitement, grabbed Ricky¡¯s shoulders and shook him wildly.

    ¡°Hey, calm down! Get a hold of yourself.¡±

    The real problem started now, as Ricardt kept winning every bet he ced.

    Ricardt was guessing the dice numbers by remembering the sound, and with his eyes, he was discerning whether the dealer was using tricks or not by watching the dealer¡¯s eyes.

    So he couldn¡¯t be wrong. Of course, this was possible because of his inhuman insight and sensory abilities.

    However, the people at the same table weren¡¯t interested in how Ricardt was guessing everything correctly, they just followed Ricardt and bet on the same side. And soon, the dealer¡¯s cash reserve waspletely drained.

    ¡°Hahahahahaha!¡±

    The air was filled withughter as dopamine surged through the crowd. Someone grabbed Ricardt¡¯s head and began smothering him with kisses, forcing the Nameless, who was standing behind him, to push them away.

    By now, a mountain of silver coins had piled up in front of Ricardt, tall enough to block his view if he didn¡¯t stand up.

    At this point, the attention of everyone in the gambling den was drawn to Ricardt, and a crowd began gathering around his table to watch.

    Amidst themotion, someone approached the dealer, tapped him on the arm, and said,

    ¡°Step aside.¡±

    Ricardt looked up and saw the person who had just arrived across the table. It was none other than Haspil, the man from the wanted poster. The Nameless was standing directly behind Ricardt.

    Haspil smiled broadly with the plump face. All of his exposed teeth were golden. Ricardt couldn¡¯t help but marvel at how perfectly the artist had captured his likeness on the wanted poster.

    ¡°Interesting. You¡¯re quite the little gambler, aren¡¯t you, kid?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m starting to find it boring because it¡¯s too easy.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you need to taste losing too, that¡¯s what gambling is. But, isn¡¯t betting money getting boaring? How about we raise the stakes?¡±

    ¡°What kind of stakes?¡±

    ¡°Literally, life or death. Isn¡¯t that the true essence of odd or even? If you capture me and take me to the adventurers¡¯ guild, you¡¯ll make a lot of money.¡±

    The wanted poster had said that capturing Haspil alive would fetch 40 gold coins. That was the equivalent of 800 silver coins.

    ¡°Roll it.¡±

    Without hesitation, Ricardt replied.

    Then Haspil, excluding the other gamblers, proceeded to challenge Ricardt to a one-on-one match.

    By now, everyone in the gambling den had gathered to watch and the once noisy gambling den was as quiet as a mouse.

    Haspil quickly tossed the dice into the bowl and mmed it onto the table. Unlike the dealer, he didn¡¯t shake it multiple times¡ªjust once.

    Rattle.

    Ricardt smirked after hearing the sound. He had expected more, but the trick was too amateurish.

    ¡°When did the dice be three?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°When I make my call, one will magically disappear, and you¡¯ll win no matter what. What do they call this?¡±

    ¡°Are you saying I¡¯m cheating?¡±

    There are many serious crimes in the world, but in a gambling den, the greatest sin is deception¡ªwhat they call ¡®cheating¡¯. It was the most unforgivable crime, punishable regardless of one¡¯s status.

    Ricardt stared at Haspil for a moment before swiftly pulling a dagger from his coat like a bolt of lightning. He drove the de straight into Haspil¡¯s hand, which was resting on top of the bowl.

    ¡°You¡¯ll know it when you see it!¡±

    Crack!

    The dagger pierced through Haspil¡¯s hand, shattering the bowl, and embedded itself into the table. The eyes of everyone nearby widened in shock. Three blood-stained dice rolled out of the shattered pieces.

    Haspil instinctively gasped, sucking in air sharply. Just as he was about to let out a scream, the Nameless, standing behind him, pounced like a tiger. He leaped onto the table and lunged at Haspil, his axe already raised high above his head.

    Chaos erupted. This was exactly the kind of situation where the Nameless excelled¡ªhis true battlefield. Ricardt had known this and had set the stage perfectly for him the moment the opportunity arose.

    They didn¡¯t need to speak, didn¡¯t even need to look at each other¡ªyet their coordination was wless, as if they were seasoned gamblers working in perfect sync.

    *****

 Chapter 38

    Chapter 38

    Trantor: Willia

    The silver coins scattered across the table with a sharp jingling noise.

    Like a tiger pouncing on its prey, the Nameless charged at Haspil with a battle axe in one hand.

    It felt as if time had frozen in this moment. The faces of the startled people, and Haspil, who was just about to scream.

    But time, inevitably, moved forward.

    ¡°Aaaah! Ugh!¡±

    Thud!

    The axe, filled with vengeance, struck Haspil¡¯s head. As expected, Haspil¡¯s head split open like a watermelon. It was a moment where worrying about collecting the head was pointless.

    The Nameless copsed onto the floor in a tangle with the now-dead Haspil. Haspil¡¯s bodyguards had no time to react; they were simply shocked.

    The onlookers needed time to process what had just happened, and soon after, a sharp scream echoed through the room.

    ¡°Kyaaaaah!¡±

    That scream was the signal. People began rushing to escape the gambling den. However, the exit was narrow, and with so many people, they quickly became entangled, pushing and shoving to the point of nearly being trampled.

    ¡°Don¡¯t push!¡±

    ¡°I said, stop pushing!¡±

    Tables and chairs were overturned, and coins were scattered everywhere. Ah, the sound of coins spilling. Even in this chaotic situation, that sound was enough to drive people mad.

    So it wasn¡¯t surprising that despite someone just having died, there were more than a few people scrambling to pick up the coins on the floor. Among them was Boribori. Like a startled rabbit, he looked around while hastily stuffing coins into his pockets.

    The tavern descended into chaos in an instant, and members of the Thieves¡¯ Guild finally drew their weapons, albeit btedly. However, they were at a loss, not knowing what to do.

    They too were overwhelmed by the chaos, just as confused as everyone else. Haspil¡¯s death was hardly a priority for them.

    The bodyguards tried to grab the Nameless at close range, but his body was hidden under a cloak and heavily armored.

    As the Nameless raised his bloodied axe once again, Ricardt, who had climbed onto a table, shouted loudly.

    ¡°Everyone!¡±

    Ricardt¡¯s voice pierced through the chaos like the sharp edge of a spear, and the chaotic scene momentarily froze. Everyone looked up at Ricardt with wide, startled eyes.

    ¡°What happens when you cheat in gambling, huh?!¡±

    Ricardt shouted passionately, as if making an appeal. He raised a shattered bowl and three dice high above his head.

    ¡°This man was caught cheating just now! You all saw it clearly!¡±

    In truth, no one had seen anything clearly in the confusion. But the dead can¡¯t speak, so Ricardt¡¯s voice carried more weight.

    Ricardt then looked at the members of the Thieves¡¯ Guild and shouted.

    ¡°When someone cheats and gets caught, it¡¯s only natural their head gets split open! Is it our fault or yours? If you have something to say, speak up!¡±

    Ricardt,manding the room, shouted confidently, grabbing hold of the situation with conviction and pressing his opponents.

    As a result, even though Haspil was lying there with his head shattered, the Thieves¡¯ Guild members were the ones shrinking back.

    ¡°We only followed the iron rule of the gambling table! And this is your reward!¡±

    Ricardt threw a heap of his own money into the air, scattering it like a shower of gold. Here, there, everywhere.

    People were showered in money. And, instead of running away, they greedily dropped to the floor, scrambling to pick it up.

    In that moment, Ricardt called out to the Nameless. There was no time for formalities given the situation.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡±

    The Nameless immediately understood Ricardt¡¯s intent. With a single sweep, he overturned the heavy tables, clearing a path. Where the path was still blocked by people, he plowed through like a raging bull.

    Ricardt leaped off the table and followed closely behind. Boribori also hurried after them, his pockets bulging with money, nearly bursting.

    But just as the three of them were about to boldly exit the gambling den, someone shouted from behind.

    ¡°Catch those bastards!¡±

    They were just a little further from being able to hide in the shadows of the night. It was unfortunate, but it didn¡¯t really matter.

    Ricardt, as if waiting for this moment, turned around and drew his longsword. He swung it sideways toward the first person rushing at him.

    Swish! Thwack!

    Ricardt¡¯s precise strike severed the man¡¯s neck. The headless body crumpled near the entrance, and several enemies tripped over the corpse as they charged forward.

    The entrance was narrow, so those in the back had no idea what was happening in front. The constant pushing from behind only caused more people to stumble and fall.

    The Nameless drew his axe again and began striking down the heads of the Thieves¡¯ Guild members like a whack-a-mole.

    Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

    The bodies of those who fell piled up, twitching, and soon a mound of corpses, nearly as tall as a person, blocked the entrance.

    As Ricardt said as he sheathed his sword,

    ¡°Let¡¯s go grab our stuff at the inn and get out of here.¡±

    The three of them disappeared into the shadows of the night and headed toward the inn near the city gate.

    As they walked, Boribori clutched his waistband and hurried along like someone who urgently needed to urinate. His pockets were filled to the brim with silver coins.

    The clinking sound of the coins echoed through the night streets, but there was no need to worry about being caught because everyone from the gambling den was also grabbing their share and fleeing in all directions.

    The sound of money jingling could be heard all around, and the Thieves¡¯ Guild members were grabbing anyone they could find.

    Those thugs, however, weren¡¯t interested in chasing after Ricardt. Instead, they were more focused on killing people on the spot and taking their money. The Thieves¡¯ Guild members were just as blinded by greed as everyone else.

    It wasn¡¯t like these thieves had any loyalty to their organization or their dead boss. With everything already falling apart, they probably thought they might as well grab whatever they could for themselves.

    The three stormed into the inn. The people sleeping on mats in the hall woke up in shock, but the trio didn¡¯t care. They quickly headed upstairs, grabbed their belongings from their room, and rushed back out.

    Once they were outside again, they saw a glow in the direction of the ¡°Mother¡¯s Sorrow¡± gambling den. It seemed there was a fire. In this cold winter night, it was a strangely warm sight.

    However, the city gate was closed for the night. For a moment, Ricardt wondered what to do, but the Nameless, who had clearly been through this kind of situation before, simply walked toward the barracks next to the gate.

    He kicked the door open with a loud bang, startling the guards inside who were quietly ying cards.

    ¡°W-what¡¯s going on?¡±

    Seeing therge, heavily armored man in a dark cloak, the guards were too startled and frightened to confront him.

    The Nameless walked over to therge gear mechanism used to open the city gate. It usually required thebined effort of several men to turn it, but he started turning it on his own.

    The thick chains rattled, making a sharp, heavy sound as the gate slowly opened. Ricardt and Boribori helped as best they could, but their efforts didn¡¯t contribute much.

    Once the gate was open, they calmly walked out of the barracks. The stunned guards just blinked in disbelief.

    And with that, they had sessfully killed an enemy arguably more challenging than the Ernburg Five. They hadn¡¯t taken the head, but they had their revenge, so it didn¡¯t matter.

    The winter night air was cold, but for some reason, the excitement they felt kept them from noticing the chill.

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t that easier than expected?¡±

    Boribori said, his bag bulging with loot.

    ¡°No matter how many there are, they¡¯re just like grains of sand. You push them a little, and they scatter. That¡¯s how thieves are.¡±

    Of course, that wasn¡¯t true for all thieves. The world was full of many Thieves¡¯ Guilds, nearly one in every city. Some of them were extremely organized, secretive, and terrifying. Even among thieves, there were differences in level.

    The Nameless suddenly looked back. Beyond the city walls, he could see the glow of the fire in the distance. He felt something different from the usual sense of revenge.

    This wasn¡¯t about easing his own mind or getting closure. It just didn¡¯t stir any particr emotion in him at all.

    It was hard to say whether it was because of the boys next to him, but a sense of emptiness somehow brushed across his chest.

    ¡°The job ended easier than we thought. While we¡¯re at it, how about raiding the bandits too?¡±

    Ricardt suggested, looking at the other two.

    ¡°Why?¡± Boribori asked.

    ¡°These bastards probably have people locked up, trafficking them or doing all sorts of nasty things. We¡¯ve already taken out their leader, so we might as well wipe them out.¡±

    The idea of just three people taking down arge group of bandits seemed absurd.

    But that was only if you looked at it in terms of numbers. If you had the skills and the smarts, it wasn¡¯t impossible. After all, they had just proven that.

    ¡°Sounds good. What about Dad?¡±

    Boribori said, looking at the Nameless. Dad? So that¡¯s what he was calling him now.

    In any case, the Nameless nodded silently.

    With the decision made, the three crossed the bridge over the river in the middle of the night and started up the mountain trail.

    Even though it was pitch ck and nothing was visible, the destination was clear. The bandits¡¯ hideout was lit by torches.

    Ricardt, with the other two, approached the hideout and hid behind some trees to observe it.

    There were a few guards posted on the palisade, but instead of keeping watch, they were distracted, staring at the fire in the city. They were muttering something to each other, but it wasn¡¯t clear what they were saying.

    The Nameless quietly pulled out a throwing axe, but Ricardt reached out and stopped him.

    ¡°Let¡¯s check the surroundings first.¡±

    They moved around the perimeter of the hideout. The ce had been hastily built, leaving plenty of gaps and ces where one could easily climb up.

    However, scattered all around the hideout were corpses. Some were mere skeletons, while others had only recently died. Most of the bones were small, likely children.

    The sad reality was that many of the people captured, whether for ransom or to be sold, were children. They often died because they couldn¡¯t endure the harsh conditions.

    The even sadder part was that many of these children had been sold by their own parents, who were desperate from hunger or unable to pay off their debts.

    Ricardt, after assessing theyout from behind the palisade, climbed up first. The Nameless and Boribori followed closely behind.

    With torches and bonfires lighting the area, Ricardt headed toward where he thought the bandits would be sleeping, based on his earlier observations. He opened the door and saw about a dozen bandits sound asleep inside.

    ¡°Let¡¯s set it on fire.¡±

    When dealing with arge number of enemies, or when massacring, the most efficient method was to trap them in a warehouse or a barn and set it aze. Killing them one by one was hardbor.

    Ricardt, Boribori, and the Nameless each grabbed handfuls of dry straw and a burning log from the bonfire. They tossed the straw into the bandits¡¯ quarters and then threw in the burning logs.

    After that, they shut the door from the outside and locked it.

    ¡°What the fuck, what¡¯s going on? Ugh!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s happening?!¡±

    ¡°Cough cough! What¡¯s this?! Hey, stop messing around!¡±

    ¡°Help! Please! Help us!¡±

    Waking up to find the ce engulfed in mes and smoke spreading everywhere, the bandits were inplete panic. As themotion grew, the guards on the palisade and others who had been sleeping elsewhere rushed out to see what was happening.

    Before they could do anything, Ricardt¡¯s group had already hidden behind another building, waiting to ambush the bandits as they came to rescue theirrades.

    The Nameless was the first to charge out, swinging his axe multiple times. With each swing, another bandit fell.

    Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

    His axe strikes were terrifyingly urate. The difficult thing about handling an axe is that it¡¯s very troublesome if you don¡¯t hit urately, but he never missed.

    The startled bandits were in a panic, and the Nameless grabbed a throwing axe and hurled it at a distant enemy who had grabbed a bow. As expected, it hit him square in the head.

    Thwack! Thunk!

    The bandits, still groggy from sleep, hadn¡¯t even had time to put on proper gear or grab their weapons.

    Boribori chopped them to pieces, while Ricardt calmly observed the scene and killed any potentially dangerous variables as they arose.

    The three worked together so seamlessly that even though they were vastly outnumbered, they managed to carry out a near massacre.

    The remaining bandits couldn¡¯tprehend what was happening. All they knew was that it was beyond what they could handle, so they opened the gates of the hideout and simply fled.

    And once one person starts to flee, the rest inevitably follow, swept up in the panic.

    Meanwhile, the mes grewrger, and Ricardt finally opened the door where the captives were held. As expected, he had sensed it even from outside, but now the stench of feces and urine hit them full force.

    Huddled together in a corner, the women, clinging to each other in terror, stared at Ricardt and hispanions with fear-stricken faces. The sound of people dying outside, along with the smell of burning, had filled them with dread.

    ¡°Come out. We¡¯ll escort you to the city.¡±

    ¡°Wh-Who are you?¡±

    The women never dreamed they were being rescued. Because such a thing was unheard of, even in legends.

    Legendary heroes were known for ying evil dragons or defeating demons, not for rescuing people.

    ¡°Uh¡­ Nameless X and his kids? Anyway,e out quickly. The ce is on fire.¡±

    Ricardt said. Even so, the women were too scared and confused to move.

    So, the Nameless went inside and forcibly dragged them out. Only then did they step outside, eyes wide with shock as they saw the spreading fire and the gruesome sight of the bandits¡¯ corpses scattered everywhere.

    ¡°I said hurry up,e on.¡±

    Ricardt said nonchntly, striding out of the hideout. The women followed behind him.

    Once they made their way down the mountain and reached the gates of the city of Lunenberg, the women finally began to gather their senses and expressed their gratitude.

    ¡°Th-Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, heroes.¡±

    The glow from the fire in the city and the fire burning in the bandits¡¯ hideout illuminated the scene from both sides. Though the light wasn¡¯t strong, they could faintly see one another in the dim night. The smell of smoke was thick in the air.

    The women appeared to be in their teens or early twenties. To them, Ricardt and hispanions seemed like beings beyond human, cloaked in the fiery shroud of the night.

    Ricardt stared at them for a moment, then, almost offhandedly, tossed them a pouch of coins.

    ¡°Live well.¡±

    Then he just left with Boribori and the Nameless.

    Was itpassion, kindness, or pity? It certainly didn¡¯t seem to be a sense of justice, but they acted all the same.

    Even the three of them didn¡¯t fully understand what had motivated their actions. However, as dawn broke and the city gates opened, word of the three rescuers began to spread from the mouths of the freed women.

    And before long, people began to refer to the three as the Heroes of Siegfringer, the ones who vanquished viins and saved the people.

    *****

 Chapter 39

    Chapter 39

    Trantor: Willia

    Although they unintentionally earned the nickname ¡®heroes¡¯, the goal of the three people remained solely revenge, and to eliminate the Ernburg Five.

    In any case, Ricardt, Boribori, and the Nameless roamed together as if they were one body, defeating viins along the way.

    It was unclear whether he was a Nordic or from the Empire, and he couldn¡¯t even speak, yet thebination of the beast-like man and the two boys was truly bizarre. Still, the three of them matched perfectly, as if they were family.

    Day by day, the three grew closer, and especially, the bond between Boribori and the Nameless was remarkable. The Nameless, though indifferent, took care of Boribori, and Boribori acted yfully around him in a childlike manner.

    Once, a rural lord, grateful for their deeds, treated the three to a warm meal, and for the first time in a long while, they were able to bathe in heated water.

    The three of them scrubbed each other¡¯s backs,ughed despite not understanding each other¡¯s words, wore fresh clothes, andy down in clean beds to sleep.

    Ricardt, though not a fervent believer in God, prayed as he drifted off to sleep. May the weary and exhausted find rest, and may the grateful receive blessings.

    Ricardt understood all too well how painful it was to punish oneself to the point of being unable to sleep properly until death.

    He didn¡¯t know whether the Nameless would have nightmares or dream sweet dreams, but he prayed earnestly nheless.

    God, please grant this poor beast some rest.

    Whether the prayer was answered or not, the Nameless slept deeply for the first time in a long time. It was impossible to say how long it had been. Normally, his nerves were always on edge, keeping him half-awake.

    The journey continued, and the three of them tracked down and took revenge on the Nameless¡¯s personal enemies, as well as other wrongdoers.

    Then one day, while they were chasing thest enemy, excluding Steiner¡ª

    Inside a deste building, a wooden wall suddenly shattered with a loud crash. A huge figure smashed through the broken wall and brutally mmed someone against it.

    Thud!

    ¡°Ugh!¡±

    Therge man gripped the throat of the person he had pinned against the wall with one hand. His thick forearm was scarred, like a tree trunk covered in knife cuts.

    In his other hand, he held a battle axe, and dark, sticky blood was dripping from the de.

    ¡°Guh¡­ Ugh¡­ Cough¡­¡±

    The person whose neck was being held groaned in agony, his face twisted in pain. In front of him was someone wearing a helmet that covered their entire face. The helmet was covered in deep gashes, as if from sword strikes, making it all the more intimidating.

    But what was even more terrifying were the beast-like, gleaming blue eyes peering out from beneath the helmet. And the distinct, raspy breathing sound. It was the Nameless, X.

    Yet, the Nameless didn¡¯t end the life of his mortal enemy quickly. He hesitated, staring at him for a long time. It was because he was grappling with an unfamiliar emotion he had never felt before.

    Emptiness? Futility? Why now? Why was he hesitating? Had he forgotten the brand he had seared into himself?

    Had he forgotten the words he had carved into his mind, heart, bones, and soul? What was he doing? Rip him apart and kill him now.

    The Namelessshed out at himself mentally. His emotions surged, and his hand, which was gripping the enemy¡¯s neck, began to tremble.

    At that moment, a youthful voice called out from behind him.

    ¡°Uncle! You need to kill him quickly! The enemies areing!¡±

    The voice belonged to Ricardt.

    They were currently ambushing a thieves¡¯ guild disguised as a merchant caravan. On the surface, they pretended to trade legitimate goods, but behind the scenes, they were involved in human trafficking.

    Although all thieves¡¯ guilds operated in secrecy, this one was especially elusive and well-disguised, making it difficult to track them down.

    ¡°Uncle! Hurry up!¡±

    Ricardt shouted urgently, urging him on. At that, the Nameless twisted his enemy¡¯s neck with one hand, killing him. Despite his weakened body, his grip was terrifyingly strong. It was horrifying to imagine what he must have been like in his prime.

    Crunch.

    The enemy, his neck strangled and then snapped, fell to the ground with his mouth wide open. His entire face had turned a bluish-purple, and foam filled his mouth.

    The Nameless slowly lifted his foot and stomped on the man¡¯s head with full force. It shattered instantly, like a watermelon breaking open.

    Squash!

    ¡°Did you kill him? Did you kill him?¡±

    Boribori, who was holding a sword in one hand and scanning the outside, repeatedly nced back and asked Ricardt. Ricardt, seeing the enemy¡¯s head smashed beyond recognition, responded.

    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s dead. Let¡¯s go. Uncle, let¡¯s go.¡±

    Ricardt slipped out through the back door he had scouted earlier. This time, the enemies were too tough, so instead of fighting them all, they had decided to eliminate only the target and make a quick escape.

    As they exited through the back door, they found themselves by arge river, where smugglers seemed busy moving cargo. Ricardt weaved through the alleys and made his way to the square, blending into the crowd.

    It was shaping up to be a perfect assassination operation if they could just slip away smoothly, but when Ricardt looked back, the Nameless was nowhere to be seen.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Uncle?¡±

    ¡°Huh? Didn¡¯t hee?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure I saw him kill the guy¡­¡±

    ¡°What should we do? Should we go back?¡±

    Ricardt thought for a moment and quickly made a decision.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go back to the dock for now.¡±

    ¡°Uh, okay¡­¡±

    Ricardt and Boribori headed toward the dock, taking a different route than the one they came from. They hid in the reed fields by the riverside and observed the ce where they had carried out their mission from a distance.

    The thieves¡¯ guild members were looking around cautiously, but there were no signs that the Nameless had been captured or that a fight had broken out.

    This meant the Nameless had sessfully escaped. So, where had he gone?

    ¡°¡­Looks like he left on his own.¡±

    Ricardt spoke. His quick thinking led to a swift realization.

    ¡°Where would he go?¡±

    ¡°To kill the rest of the Five.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s one of two things. Either we¡¯re a nuisance to him, or¡­¡±

    ¡°No, that can¡¯t be.¡±

    Boribori, who agreed with almost everything Ricardt said, shook his head in denial.

    Ricardt had spoken that way, but in truth, he had an inkling. There was something he could understand because he was Ricardt.

    The Nameless might have felt that being with them was making him weak. Or perhaps, he had decided to kill Steiner on his own, no matter what, because he was afraid they would get hurt.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go to the emergency rendezvous point and wait.¡±

    ¡°¡­Okay¡­¡±

    Boribori replied sullenly. His voice sounded choked, as if he was feeling hurt and disappointed.

    Ricardt and Boribori emerged from the reed field and left the city. They found an isted clearing off the road and waited for the Nameless. The cold felt especially biting.

    Not knowing how long they would have to wait, they started a fire to ward off the cold. Time passed slowly. Ricardt and Boribori sat in silence.

    Night fell, and cold winter stars filled the sky. During their exhausting journey, the moon and stars had often provided somefort, but now they couldn¡¯t fill the emptiness they felt.

    Despite being so close to the city, Ricardt and Boribori spent the night outside in the freezing winter. They waited for one person. But that person never came. He had truly left.

    At dawn, Ricardt rose, his body tired and sore. He hesitated to wake Boribori, who was still sleeping, because he knew that even if Boribori woke, the Nameless wouldn¡¯t be there.

    But they couldn¡¯t just wait around forever. As much as it was sad and disappointing, they had their own duties, and ces they needed to return to.

    Every journey leaves a special impression, and this one seemed particrly so. In retrospect, it was truly a strange bond they had formed.

    The man who could not speak, the Nameless, a beast punishing himself for the sake of avenging his family. They had wandered the northern regions together, defeating viins.

    How much time had passed? A month? A month and a half? What month was it now? Were the academy students doing well?

    Although Ricardt had sent money to the academy through the Imperial Guild Bureau whenever he had the chance, he was worried because the price of grain had skyrocketed to gold.

    Ricardt, too, felt his mood sinking, burdened by various worries and regrets. He thought that maybe it would be better if the damn snow fell heavily and covered everything.

    Ricardt tightened his cloak around himself and shook the sleeping Boribori to wake him up.

    ¡°Bori. Bori. Wake up.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ Is Uncle back?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡±

    ¡°What should we do?¡±

    ¡°About what?¡±

    ¡°If we track down the Five, we might meet Uncle. It seems he went off alone.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°We might die.¡±

    ¡°We epted that risk when we left the academy, didn¡¯t we?¡±

    ¡°¡­That¡¯s true.¡±

    Boribori sluggishly got up. He roughly smoothed down his messy bowl-cut hair with his hand, tied up his bag, and slung it over his back. Then, standing up, he looked around.

    ¡°Where should we go?¡±

    ¡°This ce is dangerous. Siegfringer is safer, but the Adventurers¡¯ Guild likely has more information¡­ Maybe we should visit the thieves¡¯ guild¡­¡±

    If they were going to track someone, they needed information. But Ricardt had stirred up trouble with the thieves¡¯ guilds in the area, so they would be lucky if they didn¡¯t get attacked, let alone receive any information.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just get moving.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    They had been like one body when it was the three of them, but now they were back to two. Their steps weren¡¯t light as they felt quite heavy.

    Ricardt and Boribori followed the road heading east. After about an hour of walking, they saw someoneing from the opposite direction, wearing a hood pulled down low and leaning on a staff.

    The person didn¡¯t seem to be carrying any weapons and had a lute strapped to their back. A bard, perhaps?

    They were about to pass by when a familiar voice called out.

    ¡°Young master?¡±

    Ricardt turned around. Where there is parting, there is also meeting. It was a wee face¡ªthe deliveryman from the Imperial Guild Bureau who had escorted Ricardt from his hometown to Reinfurt.

    ¡°Huh? Arno?¡±

    ¡°It really is you, young master. What are you doing here? Weren¡¯t you supposed to be at the academy?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m still a student. I¡¯m just out for a while on business.¡±

    ¡°Really? How¡¯s life at the academy treating you?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I¡¯ve made some good friends. Let me introduce you. This is Boribori, my friend.¡±

    Ricardt introduced Boribori, who stood beside him, looking bewildered.

    ¡°Nice to meet you. I¡¯m Arno.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ hello? But who¡¯s the ¡®young master¡¯?¡±

    ¡°The young master is the young master. I¡¯m talking about this gentleman here, the Boar yer of Stormhertz, young master Ricardt.¡±

    ¡°¡­What?¡±

    Boribori looked at Ricardt with a bewildered expression. Ricardt just gave a sheepish smile and spoke.

    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t want to make things awkward for everyone. My real name is Ricardt. Ricky is just a nickname my family used.¡±

    ¡°¡­What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all there is to it. It¡¯s not that important.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a noble?!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, something like that¡­¡±

    ¡°Ehhh!?¡±

    Boribori¡¯s eyes widened in shock, as if they were going to tear apart. Arno, not understanding the situation, blinked in confusion.

    Ricardt quickly tried to change the subject.

    ¡°So, how have you been, Arno? You were going to be a monk in the west, right?¡±

    ¡°Ah, haha. My goals have changed. I¡¯m aiming to be a bard now. So I¡¯ve been traveling around, gathering stories.¡±

    ¡°So you quit the delivery job?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ I don¡¯t really get it, but good luck anyway.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. You¡¯re still as kind as ever. You haven¡¯t changed a bit.¡±

    Ricardt gave a slight smile.

    ¡°Who knows. Oh, by the way, have you ever heard of the Ernburg Five?¡±

    At Ricardt¡¯s question, Arno¡¯s expression suddenly stiffened.

    ¡°¡­Why are you asking about them?¡±

    ¡°Just for work. Have you heard anything about them recently? Maybe seen them or heard any rumors?¡±

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t get involved with those guys, young master. They¡¯re terrifying. There was a time when they massacred an entire vige. Just killed everyone. There¡¯s even a gruesome rumor that they skinned the smooth-skinned children.¡±

    ¡°I know they¡¯re bad guys. I¡¯m asking if you know anything about what they¡¯ve been up to recently.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    Arno looked at Ricardt for a moment. People say kids change by the day, but Ricardt didn¡¯t seem to have changed at all, aside from being a bit taller.

    No matter what, he was always calm, with an eerie sort of atmosphere that was hard to ce.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about all five of them, but I¡¯ve heard that there¡¯s aboratory of a man named Reto the Experimenter in the Sidria Swamp.¡±

    ¡°Really? Where¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Sidria is further north from here. It¡¯s a sparsely popted area. There¡¯s a legend that necromancers have appeared there from time to time, but if you go there, it¡¯s just endless mushynd covered in moss.¡±

    ¡°So we take this road and then head north?¡±

    ¡°¡­Young master. I don¡¯t know what your reasons are, but you shouldn¡¯t do this. They¡¯re insane. Do you know the creepiest thing about them?¡±

    ¡°What? That they eat people?¡±

    ¡°No. They¡¯vemitted all these horrific acts, but they¡¯re not even wanted criminals. Isn¡¯t that strange?¡±

    ¡°¡­Huh? That¡¯s true.¡±

    Ricardt had traveled with the Nameless, dealing with scum who were the lowest of the low. But it was odd that the Ernburg Five, even more vile than the ones they¡¯d faced, weren¡¯t wanted criminals.

    Ricardt wasn¡¯t chasing them because they were wanted criminals; he was carrying out a ¡®request¡¯ to kill Reto and Erze.

    ¡°There¡¯s a rumor that the Emperor secretly gives them orders to punish vassals he¡¯s displeased with. Of course, it¡¯s an irreverent rumor, so people don¡¯t talk about it openly.¡±

    Even the Emperor¡¯s direct control only extended to his personal domain.

    In other words, there was always tension and conflict between him and his vassals, so he would use any means necessary to check and coerce them.

    In this context, the Emperor¡¯s Champion was more of a political asset than a direct military tool. Therefore, it was almost unheard of for the Emperor¡¯s Champion to be dispatched to some far-flung region just to maintain order.

    It was the limitation of feudalism. Not just the Emperor, but all the lords of this time had a simr mindset. The Emperor was simply at the pinnacle.

    When a rural lord found himself in trouble, there was no guarantee that his higher lord woulde to his aid, especially when it involved mobilizing troops.

    That¡¯s because, sometimes, helping others at the cost of one¡¯s own resources could lead to catastrophic consequences.

    Thus, even criminal organizations acted smartly, staying within certain boundaries.

    What that means is, if they murdered a noble or went too far, the truly enraged high-ranking nobles might mobilize their armies.

    After all, why were counts, dukes, and lords there, if not to take care of their own territories? ¡°Why should I clean up your mess? Why should I spend my hard-earned money and sacrifice my people for it?¡± This was the basic mindset of the time.

    It wasn¡¯t that the concept of a nation didn¡¯t exist, but it was a weak one. People might die for their own honor or for their family¡¯s name, but to die for a country they didn¡¯t really understand? That was hard to imagine.

    Only when an external threat or a great disaster struck did the feudal lords band together¡ªthat was the hallmark of feudalism.

    Society wasn¡¯t governed by a strict legal system but by the leadership, ability, and charisma of the lords themselves.

    Thus, depending on who the emperor, king, or lord was, everything in society¡ªeconomics, military matters, diplomacy, and even the arts¡ªfluctuated wildly.

    Of course, that didn¡¯t mean that rulers just left their vassals to do whatever they wanted.

    Politics wasplicated, with many factors to consider. If politics were simple, the world wouldn¡¯t be as tragic as it is. In the end, the ones who suffered the most were always the powerless.

    That¡¯s why it was an era in need of heroes.

    ¡°The emperor is behind those guys?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just a rumor, of course.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°Anyway, it¡¯s been great seeing you again after so long. Times are harsh this winter, and people are growing more ruthless, but I¡¯ve heard Siegfringer is doing better because heroes suddenly appeared one day and took out the viins. Since the bad guys who were sucking the people dry are gone, I suppose even the Emperor will get through this inevitable winter safely.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear.¡±

    Though it had been Ricardt, Boribori, and the Nameless who had aplished all of that, Ricardt didn¡¯t show it. They hadn¡¯t done it for praise or recognition. It was simple. If people were living better, that was enough.

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s really fortunate. That¡¯s why even someone as weak and scrawny as me can walk the roads alone. Hahaha.¡±

    Ricardt watched Arno, who seemed to have changed a bit, with a subtle smile. It wasn¡¯t a bad change.

    ¡°I was happy to see you too, Arno. Next time we meet, sing me a song.¡±

    ¡°Of course. I¡¯llpose a masterpiece just for you.¡±

    ¡°I wish you good fortune. We¡¯ll be going now.¡±

    ¡°May fortune smile upon you as well, young master.¡±

    Thest time they parted, they hadn¡¯t had a proper farewell, but now, after time had passed and they met again, they could finally exchange a proper goodbye.

    Saying farewell with smiles made the parting less bittersweet.

    As Ricardt turned to walk away, he suddenly nced at Boribori, who was blinking in disbelief.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You know¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°I feel¡­ betrayed.¡±

    ¡°By what?¡±

    ¡°That you¡¯re a noble.¡±

    ¡°You feel betrayed because I¡¯m a noble, or because I hid it?¡±

    ¡°Both.¡±

    Ricardt couldn¡¯t help but let out a small, incredulousugh.

    ¡°So, does that mean all the hard times we went through together and all the moments weughed were fake?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that, but¡­¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go. We have to find Uncle.¡±

    Ricardt began to move, and Boribori followed behind him.

    After walking in silence for a while, Boribori spoke up from behind.

    ¡°Why did youe to the academy?¡±

    ¡°No real reason. Just because I¡¯m a noble doesn¡¯t make me any more special than you.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no way that¡¯s true.¡±

    ¡°Think what you want.¡±

    ¡°So, where are you from in the north?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not from the north. I¡¯m from the mid-south. Stormhertz. I¡¯m Ricardt, third son of the Caldebert family.¡±

    ¡°Ew, it sounds like you¡¯re speaking a foreignnguage.¡±

    ¡°Hahaha.¡±

    ¡°Anyway, Ricky is still Ricky, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Come to think of it, what Volka said was right.¡±

    ¡°About what?¡±

    ¡°That he¡¯s never seen a weirdo like you before. A noble going to the academy? It makes no sense.¡±

    Ricardt turned his head and gave Boribori a sideways nce.

    ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Even if you¡¯re a weirdo.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the point!¡±

    Boribori seemed to find it amusing that he¡¯d finally managed to tease Ricardt, and grinned widely. Ricardt, too, just chuckled.

    There may be partings whenever there are meetings, but still, there are always those who stay by your side. The two boys still felt the emptiness left by the absence of the Nameless, but at least they were able to distract themselves for a moment.

    Tiny buds had started to sprout on the trees lining the roadside. Slowly, the harshness of that relentless winter was beginning to fade.

    *****

 Chapter 40

    Chapter 40

    Trantor: Willia

    It was a ce that could barely be called a vige. It was a tiny, remote vige that likely didn¡¯t even exist in the tax records managed by the lord.

    There was one temple made of logs, and three or four houses scattered sparsely around it.

    The shrine, dedicated to a deity, wasn¡¯t made of high-quality materials, but the sincerity of the builders could be felt. It looked neat and sturdy.

    However, the door and windows had been smashed by someone.

    Light streamed in through the broken parts, as if it were the gaze of the deity. Following that light, the inside revealed a sea of blood, with corpses scattered everywhere.

    It seemed recent, as steam rose from the blood in the cold air.

    ¡°W-When the day of judgmentes, the god of retribution will punish y-you all.¡±

    A priest, bleeding from all over his body, dragged himself across the floor as he spoke. He was trying to move away from someone.

    It seemed he had no chance of escaping, so the man who had done this to him simply stood still, looking down at him.

    The man hadn¡¯t drawn the sword at his waist, but he was holding something like a sickle in his hand, thick blood dripping from it.

    People often have faces that resemble animals, and the man holding the sickle had arge, protruding jaw that made him look like a dog to anyone who saw him. He resembled a ferocious fighting dog. But his eyes were unexpectedly calm.

    His face was covered with numerous small scars, with a particrlyrge one crossing over his right eye.

    The man spoke.

    ¡°When?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°When the hell is the punishmenting?¡±

    ¡°W-What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t understand what I¡¯m saying. When I was a kid, I prayed every day for the gods to punish someone. To kill my damn bastard parents. Or at least kill me instead. But no matter how much I prayed, they ignored me. So I killed them with my own hands. And then I realized.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°There are no gods. Not even anything remotely like one.¡±

    The man sphemed the gods so simply, so nonchntly. The priest opened his eyes wide, more shocked by this than by his own dreadful situation. A devil¡­¡­

    ¡°Even if I kill you, there¡¯ll be no punishment from the gods. But if there is divine mercy, it fell on you by running into me. If it were the others, you¡¯d be begging them to kill you instead of praying to your god.¡±

    The man walked toward the priest. The sound of squelching blood echoed with each step as his feet sshed in the pool of blood.

    As the man approached, the priest closed his eyes. And he prayed.

    ¡°Oh, gods, please save this wretched soul¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no divine punishment, and there¡¯s no salvation. But between the two, salvation is the more bullshit idea.¡±

    Swoosh! Thud!

    The man¡¯s sickle struck the priest¡¯s head. The priest flopped like a fish. At that moment, someone outside the temple called out to the man. It was a lively woman¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Steiny! Steiny! Why are you taking so long!?¡±

    The man, called Steiny, was actually Steiner, the Mad Dog. It seemed that the five-person group was close enough to call each other by nicknames.

    Steiner looked at the priest he had killed. He was somewhat satisfied with how the priest looked with the sickle embedded in his head.

    But that moment of trivial pleasure was brief, and he turned and exited the temple. Outside, three people were waiting, having finished their tasks.

    The woman who had called out to Steiner was dancing around, as if something had made her excited. She was wearing several crudely stitched-together pieces of leather.

    The leather was human skin, and the stitched-together pieces had subtle differences in skin tone and texture.

    But the woman herself had skin that looked like a dark, grimy toad¡¯s. It was the result of excessive training in Mana Drive. This woman was Erze, the Skin Collector.

    ¡°Steiny, why did you take so long? Ohohoho. Look at this.¡±

    She approached Steiner, lifting her arm proudly and stroking it with her hand.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t it feel super smooth? My skin¡¯s getting more and more refined. Ohohoho.¡±

    ¡°Sure¡­¡­ But where¡¯s Tony?¡±

    Tony was Reto¡¯s nickname. Reto, the necromancer and experimenter of the Ernburg Five.

    ¡°That creepy bastard said he gathered everything he needed and left early.¡±

    A man dressed entirely in ck from head to toe spoke. He was known as Ghost, the man called the ¡®Phantom Sword¡¯. But he looked the gloomiest of them all.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t I say we should go to the waiting spot when we¡¯re done? Didn¡¯t you tell him?¡±

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t it you who was supposed to?¡±

    Ghost looked at Erze and asked.

    ¡°Why would I bother talking to him? I thought Harty did it.¡±

    The man called Harty was inhumanly tall and bulky, like a legendary giant. His size was inhumanlyrge, and the square shield beside him was as big as an average person. He was H, known as the ¡®Iron Wall¡¯.

    He stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall, with his head nearly touching the ceiling.

    ¡°Why are you suddenly ming me? Besides, I did tell you.¡±

    The three, excluding Steiner, started shifting the me onto each other. Despite their notorious reputation, they seemed somewhat disorganized. However, it also showed how close they were to each other.

    All of them were from the same academy. Though they bickered constantly, they were like brothers and sisters. In some ways, their bond was even stronger than real family.

    However, the serious problem was that they hadn¡¯t grown into proper adults and had be horribly twisted instead.

    ¡°You said Harty told him?¡±

    ¡°Hah¡­¡±

    Steiner sighed and then turned to Erze, who was the closest.

    ¡°Eri, you go get him.¡±

    ¡°What? Me? Why?¡±

    ¡°That loser listens to you better than anyone else.¡±

    ¡°Heeing, I suppose that¡¯s true. Being this pretty sure is tiring.¡±

    Erze spun in ce as if to unt her beauty, but she was a woman who was anything but beautiful. She was bizarre, horrifying, and utterly insane.

    ¡°Then the three of us will head out first. Eri, we¡¯re counting on you.¡±

    ¡°Alrightyy¡­¡±

    ¡°But Steiny, did you hear?¡±

    Just as they were about to leave, Ghost asked.

    ¡°Hear what?¡±

    ¡°They say heroes have shown up in Siegfringer recently. They¡¯ve been wiping out thieves and bandits and saving people. All without asking for anything in return. Even Haspil is dead. So is Aunt Lily.¡±

    Steiner paused, thinking for a moment before casually spitting out a singlement.

    ¡°They must be some serious perverted bastards.¡±

    Saving others without asking for anything in return? In Steiner¡¯s mind, that was something only iprehensible, deeply perverted people would do. Utterly disgusting perverts.

    ***

    Ricardt had never, in all his lives, encountered terrain like this.

    The ground, covered in moss, was uneven, but when you stepped on it, it felt as if there was water just below the surface, causing it to sink.

    In fact, the ground could suddenly copse, sucking you in and killing you in an instant.

    To make matters worse, snow covered thend, making it impossible to see where to step. It was a fascinating yet dangerous swamp.

    In this vast, emptyndscape, Ricardt had no idea where to begin looking for Reto¡¯sboratory.

    One fortunate thing was that it hadn¡¯t snowed recently, so they could still see footprints. Judging by the size of the prints, they definitely belonged to a man.

    ¡°Oh? These are the uncle¡¯s footprints.¡±

    This time, Boribori noticed before Ricardt, who was usually sharp-eyed.

    The footprints led northward. Ricardt and Boribori followed the tracks, the ground squishing under their feet with each step.

    They walked for a while before stumbling upon an unbelievable sight.

    Graaaagh¡­

    A corpse, its flesh rotting, was moving. And it wasn¡¯t just one or two.

    Several corpses, scattered around, were still in motion. No matter how you looked at them, these were bodies that should have been dead a long time ago.

    Their white, lifeless eyes rolled in their sockets, and some dragged themselves along the ground, even though their lower bodies were missing.

    ¡°A-A necromancer¡­¡±

    Boribori muttered under his breath. Ricardt, seeing such a horrific sight, couldn¡¯t think of anything for a moment. Was magic truly this terrifying?

    He finally regained hisposure and quietly surveyed the scene. The corpses looked like they had been attacked by somerge beast, crushed, trampled, and hacked apart with axes.

    ¡°It¡¯s uncle. It looks like he fought here.¡±

    Ricardt said. Then Boribori, without looking back, crossed this chilling scene following the footprints. Ricardt quickened his pace as well.

    At some point, although it was still midday, a faint fog began to set in.

    It wasn¡¯t thick enough to obscure their view, so they were barely able to keep following the footprints, which eventually led them to a sinister and foreboding cabin. It was the only area in the swamp where the ground seemed firm.

    Ricardt unshouldered the sword from his back, holding it in one hand, ready to draw it at any moment as he approached the cabin.

    Carefully opening the cabin¡¯s door, which wasn¡¯t properlytched, they were once again met with a gruesome, nauseating scene.

    Various body parts were preserved in jars filled with liquid, but many of the jars had shattered, leaving the floor in disarray. The stench from the spilled liquid stung their noses.

    On what seemed to be the necromancer¡¯s desk, there was a severed head casually ced. It was Reto, the experimenter. He had already been killed by the Nameless.

    Even in life, Reto must have looked grotesque, but in death, he was even more horrifying. After witnessing the earlier scene, it felt as if his eyes might suddenly spring open.

    ¡°He left it for us.¡±

    Boribori spoke.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Otherwise, why would uncle have gone to the trouble of cutting off the head and cing it here?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s possible¡­¡±

    Indeed, the Nameless wasn¡¯t the type to do such things inbat. That meant he had some other intention, and Boribori¡¯s words made sense.

    However, for the two boys, finding the Nameless took priority over collecting the head. After all, this wasn¡¯t a bounty hunt, it was an assassination request. They just needed to kill him¡ªthey didn¡¯t need to bring back his head. Cutting off an ear or taking something identifiable would have sufficed.

    ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you two cuties?¡±

    Suddenly, a lively woman¡¯s voice called out from behind them. Ricardt and Boribori reflexively spun around.

    What they saw was a woman who looked like a toad. She didn¡¯t just resemble a toad¡ªshe seemed like a toad transformed into a human. She was also wearing human skin.

    Ricardt immediately recognized her by instinct.

    ¡°Erze?¡±

    ¡°Huh? You know my name? Well, I suppose my beauty is famous.¡±

    Erze, with a gesture that didn¡¯t suit her grotesque appearance, unted her hideousness with what she probably thought was elegance.

    ¡°Where are the others?¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re part of the Five, right?¡±

    ¡°What, do you think we stick together all the time? They¡¯re probably in Lindveil by now.¡±

    Lindveil was the ce where the Five hadmitted their first vige-scale massacre.

    Ironically, or perhaps cruelly, Lindveil was also where the Nameless used to live.

    Oddly enough, Erze had casually revealed their secret hideout. It was possible she didn¡¯t see any threat in the two boys standing in front of her. Or maybe she had no intention of letting them leave alive in the first ce.

    ¡°You two are a bit older, but still, your skin¡¯s in pretty good condition. Mmm, I¡¯ve made my decision. I¡¯ll add it to my collection. You¡¯re wee!¡±

    Neither Ricardt nor Boribori had ever been called old before. Most people considered them young, but apparently not to Erze.

    The toad-like woman let out a throatyugh as she pulled out a sharp dagger. It wasn¡¯t a typical de but more of a tool designed for skinning.

    As she approached the two boys, she suddenly caught sight of something beyond them. The head ced on the desk. Erze froze for a moment, and then her body began to tremble.

    ¡°T-Tony?¡±

    Normally, they would bicker and ignore each other, but that was just their mischievous way of teasing. To her, the Ernburg Five were family.

    Erze, unable to process the reality before her, suddenly had a furious fire in her eyes, her face contorting into a terrifying, grotesque expression. She was already so ugly that it seemed like something that might haunt their nightmares.

    ¡°What did you do to Tony¡­¡­!¡±

    Erze let out a sharp scream, but she couldn¡¯t finish it. That was because Ricardt and Boribori had instantly drawn their swords and shed at her.

    ng! ng!

    Surprisingly, though, their swords only left scratches on the leather draped over her¡ªskin that had once belonged to other people¡ªbut failed to prate her actual skin.

    Ricardt¡¯s sword, forged from meteoric iron, didn¡¯t break due to its superior craftsmanship, but Boribori¡¯s mana-infused sword snapped in two. It was a weapon capable of cutting through most things.

    It felt as though they had struck solid stone with their des. Ricardt felt the fierce vibration from his sword shake his bones through his trembling hand, causing him to frown as he quickly retreated.

    In that moment, Erze lunged at Ricardt, intending to kill him.

    ¡°Ricky!¡±

    Boribori, clutching his wrist in pain, shouted. But at that moment, Ricardt thought Erze was just ying around. Because her attack was so clumsy.

    Was she unable to control her emotions after losing herrade? Or was her skin only tough, but herbat skills subpar? Or perhaps it was a trap? In that brief moment, countless thoughts raced through his mind.

    But Ricardt, who had experienced countless real-life battles, found the answer even in that short span of time.

    He dropped his sword and, in a quick, fluid motion, twisted her arm joint in an instant.

    Crack!

    ¡°Kyaaaah!¡±

    At that moment, Boribori leaped onto Erze¡¯s back. Wrapping his legs tightly around her waist like a turtle shell, he clung to her. He forced his hands into her mouth, grabbing her upper and lower jaws.

    As mana coursed through his veins and into his muscles, immense strength surged through him.

    ¡°Grrrgh!¡±

    Crack!

    ¡°Aaaaagh!¡±

    Erze¡¯s jaw dislocated, her mouth gaping open unnaturally like a snake. She thrashed violently, but Boribori held on tight.

    However, when Boribori finally tore off her lower jaw, he lost his bnce and was flung off.

    Crash!

    Boribori flew quite a distance before scrambling back to his feet.

    ¡°Grrrgh¡­¡±

    Erze could only let out guttural sounds like an undead creature, incapable of speaking. Her tongue, now without its base, hung loosely as she stumbled, attempting to flee.

    ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going?!¡±

    Ricardt chased her barehanded. Terrified, Erze tried to run, but Ricardt was much faster.

    He caught up to her in an instant, grabbed her leg, and twisted her ankle, sending her crashing to the ground.

    ¡°Aaaahhhh!¡±

    Erze writhed in agony on the ground. She reached out, trying to grab Ricardt, but he had already stepped back swiftly. Drawing a dagger from his belt, he spoke.

    ¡°Is your eyeball as tough as the rest of you?¡±

    ¡°Uhhh¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°I hope they are.¡±

    Without waiting for an answer, Ricardt thrust the dagger forcefully into her eye. The de pierced through her eyeball and sank into the soft brain tissue. Erze¡¯s body convulsed once and then went limp.

    For any ordinary opponent, her skin would have been imprable. But these two boys were far from ordinary.

    ¡°Haah¡­ haah¡­ haah¡­¡±

    Boribori approached and stared down at Erze¡¯s lifeless body.

    Ricardt, catching his breath, asked Boribori,

    ¡°You okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. What about you, Ricky?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    The two boys collected evidence of Reto and Erze¡¯s deaths and immediately set off toward Lindveil.

    Even though they hadpleted their mission by killing Reto and Erze, Ricardt and Boribori¡¯s journey was far from over. They had no intention of ending it.

    However, Ricardt couldn¡¯t shake one lingering concern. It wasn¡¯t that he feared the Nameless¡¯s death¡ªhe had long sincee to terms with death.

    What troubled him was the thought that if the Nameless died after punishing himself like that, whether or not he achieved his revenge, what meaning would there be in it?

    Though Ricardt¡¯s past life as Ricky and the Nameless¡¯s situation were different, there were undeniable simrities. Ricardt feared that the Nameless was following in Ricky¡¯s footsteps.

    Because at the end of that path, there was no salvation.

    TL/Note: Hi, I¡¯ve been sick, so I haven¡¯t been able to trante. For the next few days, trantions won¡¯t be posted daily, but I will trante and upload some chapters as I start to feel better.

    *****

 Chapter 41

    Chapter 41

    Trantor: Willia

    Nameless walked. Towards Lindveil, his hometown. The ce where he was born, raised, and where he had once loved.

    With every step, horrifying memories resurfaced. Memories he wasn¡¯t sure if he wanted to forget, or could never forget. Memories of which he had branded his body to ensure he would never forget.

    He looked out through the cracks of the burning temple where he was trapped along with the vigers. His wife had already been brutally murdered, and his young son was being dragged away by the hands of the viins.

    ¡®Dad!¡¯

    That voice, crying out desperately like amb. He had pounded the walls with fists until they were broken, screamed like a beast until his throat was raw, but in the end, his son died miserably.

    The temple had burned until one side of the wall copsed, allowing Nameless to barely escaped, but the tragedy had already taken ce.

    The burns that covered his entire face felt insignificantpared to the pain of holding his son¡¯s corpse. He had cried until his voice broke, until he had forgotten how to speak altogether.

    Nameless squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, his gaze was seething with vengeance.

    In the distance, under the dreary gray sky,y the ruins of an isted vige. A vige nestled beside the towering mountains of eternal snow to the north. Once, it had been more peaceful than anywhere else.

    Nameless¡¯s body was already in shambles, and his equipment had been torn to tatters after fighting the necromancer. His body bore countless scratches and gouges from the undead.

    Yet for some reason, the images of two boys flickered before his eyes. Nameless shook his head violently, trying to force the thoughts away.

    How many years had he lived clinging only to burning vengeance? Finally, the time hade. He would kill them, and then die himself.

    Whether it was to strengthen his resolve or to whip himself, the nameless man walked towards the temple. To burn thest me.

    The brick-built temple had one side copsed, and the charred remnants of the fire were unmistakable.

    Standing at the doorway, which no longer had a door, he saw three people inside, sitting or standing and conversing. Three of the five members of the Ernburg Five: ¡®Iron Wall¡¯ H, ¡®Phantom Sword¡¯ Ghost, and the ¡®Mad Dog¡¯ Steiner.

    ¡°Who? How did you get here?¡±

    Steiner asked. Did any answer matter at this point? Nameless responded not with words but by drawing a throwing axe.

    His body was already in no shape to live much longer, his equipment nearly destroyed, and his opponents were three, each one a renowned fighter throughout the Empire.

    But what of it? He had lived for years with nothing but the burning me of vengeance keeping him alive. He had lived for this moment. How could he possibly back down now?

    It wasn¡¯t courage or madness. It was only vengeance. Nothing else.

    Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, ng!

    Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, ng!

    Nameless threw his axes in rapid session, but Steiner effortlessly dodged each one, sidestepping them with ease. Then, he picked up a fallen throwing axe and hurled it back.

    Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! ng!

    Nameless bent slightly to avoid it, but suddenly, he heard a voice from behind him.

    ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re looking?¡±

    Nameless quickly twisted his body, but a searing pain red up from his side. However, Steiner shouted urgently, his voiceced with instinctual warning not to approach carelessly.

    ¡°Ghost! Don¡¯t!¡±

    Nameless was already in a state of self-immtion, and a mere stab to his side couldn¡¯t extinguish the mes within him. Pain? What of it?

    With his side stabbed, Nameless spun around and grabbed Ghost, sinking his teeth into his throat.

    There was a cloth attached to the helmet that covered Ghost¡¯s face, but the bite was so forceful that it didn¡¯t matter. A chunk of flesh tore free.

    ¡°Aaaaargh!¡±

    But it wasn¡¯t over. Nameless, still wearing his helmet, threw his head back and then mmed it forward with all his might.

    Thwack!

    Ghost¡¯s face was crushed. Of course, that alone wasn¡¯t what killed him. The cause of death was his broken neck.

    Ghost¡¯s face had been smashed, his neck bent awkwardly, and he died instantly.

    As Nameless pulled the sword from his side, blood began to pour out. Even so, he stood firm without wavering, the me of vengeance burning brightly. In one hand, a sword. In the other, an axe.

    ¡°You¡­ you¡­¡±

    H was struck with shock, his eyes wide with disbelief, as Ghost met a pitiful and tragic death.

    Losing hisposure, H charged at Nameless, not even bothering to lift his shield that was like a wall. His massive frame made the ground quake with every step.

    Nameless quickly moved outside, trying to take advantage of the narrow entrance for the fight. In that brief moment, Steiner hurried over to check on Ghost.

    If there was even a glimmer of life left, Steiner intended to use a potion to revive him. But Ghost was already dead.

    Meanwhile, H was now chasing Nameless , swinging his enormous fists.

    Thud! Smack! Boom!

    Whoosh! Smack!

    Nameless barely dodged, striking and shing at H¡¯s arm, but due to his massive body, it wasn¡¯t fatal.

    ¡°You bastard!¡±

    H roared, raising both of his fists high into the air. Steiner, meanwhile, had drawn his sword and was preparing to join the fight, when suddenly a youthful voice rang out.

    ¡°Uncle!¡±

    ¡°Uncle!!¡±

    Ricardt and Boribori were running toward them from a distance. At that moment, Nameless¡¯s eyes wavered, and he hesitated. The me of vengeance inside him felt like it was starting to die out. No, no¡­

    In that instant, Steiner quickly snapped his head back and forth, ncing between Nameless and the two boys running toward them. A vile and cunning thought crossed his mind, and he dashed toward the boys.

    In the midst of this urgency, Ricardt, running as fast as he could, realized that the man charging at them was Steiner.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of him. You go to the uncle, quickly.¡±

    ¡°Okay!¡±

    Ricardt drew his sword, while Boribori veered off to the side, running around to avoid Steiner.

    But then Steiner drew a longsword from his waist, and a blood-red light began to emanate from the de. A Sword Master.

    In that moment, Ricardt instinctively knew- if his sword shed with that de, his weapon would be cut down.

    The two of them charged toward each other, neither slowing down as they passed, exchanging blows.

    Whoosh! Swish!

    Their swords cut through the air. Though it was just a single exchange, Steiner realized instinctively- this wasn¡¯t just some ordinary kid. A chill ran down his spine.

    But Steiner was in a hurry. Ghost was already dead, and if he didn¡¯t join the fight soon, even H could be in danger. So, he ignored the unsettling feeling that crept over him.

    With his sword of light leading the way, Steiner took bold steps forward. It was a technique only a Sword Master could use- a move that could cut through anything. The perfect unity of offense and defense.

    The de of light descended diagonally, and in that brief instant, Steiner noticed that Ricardt¡¯s hands were empty. He had let go of his sword.

    Something¡¯s wrong, the thought shed through Steiner¡¯s mind. But it was toote to stop.

    At the exact moment when Steiner¡¯s sword reached its highest speed and power, Ricardt grabbed the t side of the de with both palms as if catching lightning and twisted it sideways.

    Steiner¡¯s strength, which had been focused on attacking Ricardt, was now fully reversed. If things continued like this, Steiner¡¯s wrist would surely snap. So, he simply let go of the sword.

    It was an impressive reflex, but it was meaningless now that his sword had been taken.

    Ricardt caught the hilt of the dimmed de as it spun through the air, then pointed it at Steiner.

    Seeing this, Steiner felt a jolt of fear strike his heart.

    ¡°¡­You bastard, you¡¯re a wizard.¡±

    Having been bested by a method he had never heard of, Steiner could only conclude as much.

    Humans naturally fear what they do not understand, and now that his sword had been taken from him, Steiner simply turned around and fled on his own, abandoning his long-timerades who had been like family to him.

    How he had be a Sword Master was a mystery, but he was a truly cowardly and vile man.

    No matter how high his mastery of the sword might have been, Ricardt had no reason to lose to someone who had forgotten the essence of being a swordsman.

    Ricardt raised the sword high above his head until the de was behind his back, tightened his core, and threw it with all his might. Every motion was perfect.

    The sword shot forward in a straight line, swiftly and urately, piercing through Steiner¡¯s back.

    Thud!

    ¡°Urk!¡±

    Ricardt quickly grabbed his own sword and chased after the falling Steiner, swinging his de toward him as he copsed. Steiner frantically turned his head and screamed.

    ¡°Wait!¡±

    But without a moment¡¯s hesitation, Ricardt struck his neck.

    Whoosh! Thud!

    Steiner¡¯s headless body crumpled to the ground, lifeless. A man who had once so desperately sought divine retribution, had abandoned that wish midway and ultimately rejected it in his final moments.

    For someone who had been one of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords and notorious for his cruelty, his death was absurdly anticlimactic. Whether it was arrogance or simply a difference in skill, nothing made the oue of a life-or-death battle clearer than the division between the living and the dead.

    Perhaps Steiner¡¯s defeat was because he had lived in a cowardly, despicable way and continued to act dishonorably until the very end. Even when he could have faced Nameless, he had run toward the two boys instead. And in the end, he tried to escape to save his own skin.

    He had lived a shitty life, so it was only fitting that he died a shitty death. That was the sum total of his life and death.

    Meanwhile, Nameless, with the me of his vengeance flickering, found himself in a dire situation. Not knowing what to do, his feet tangled, and he was struck in the head by H¡¯s massive fist.

    Crunch!

    The sound echoed as his helmet was knocked off, revealing the burn-scarred face beneath.

    Nameless, dazed from the blow to his head, copsed to the ground. But then, he heard the youthful voice once again, snapping him back to his senses.

    ¡°Dad!¡±

    Dad. Dad. Dad¡­

    Boribori had always called him that half-jokingly, out of affection. But in this moment, the word was genuine. Boribori, who had never received the love and care of a father, truly saw Nameless as no different from one.

    That affectionate hand that had always looked out for him, even without words. It didn¡¯t matter if Nameless couldn¡¯t speak; Boribori could feel everything through that touch.

    Seeing Boribori, H thought it was a stroke of luck. Cruel thoughts immediately filled his mind, and he abandoned Nameless to go after the approaching Boribori.

    Watching this, something began to boil deep within Nameless¡¯s chest. Words that had been lost to him for so long finally burst forth.

    ¡°Baby! Stay back!¡±

    But Boribori, drawing up all the mana he could muster, punched forward with incredible force, and the enormous hand reaching for him was violently knocked aside.

    Smack!

    H was so stunned by the unexpected strength that he hesitated for a moment. In that brief opening, Nameless used Ghost¡¯s sharp sword to slice through the tendons of H¡¯s heel.

    ¡°Aaaaaaaargh!¡±

    A critical weakness had been exposed, and Boribori was ready to finish H off with Nameless¡¯s help. But suddenly, Nameless grabbed Boribori and, without any clear direction, began running.

    He abandoned his vengeance, abandoning everything, just to save Boribori. He could have killed H, but at this moment, Nameless could only act this way.

    No- he had to act this way. No matter what. No matter what it took. Even if his body was torn apart or burned alive¡­

    Perhaps this act, which seemed pointless, carried a deeper meaning precisely because of its apparent futility.

    Blood poured from his side, and it seemed that blood was flowing into his throat, choking him. His breath came in ragged gasps, making only gurgling noises.

    Even then, he kept muttering the words buried deep beneath the me of his vengeful heart.

    ¡°Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me¡­¡±

    Boribori, overwhelmed with his father¡¯s long-pent-up affection, received it with all his soul, tears streaming down his face.

    ¡°D-Dad¡­¡±

    ¡°Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me¡­¡±

    Nameless did not use thest flicker of his life¡¯s me for the vengeance he had longed for, but instead, he burned it all to save Boribori. As a result, he didn¡¯t get far before his knees buckled, and he copsed to the ground.

    Startled, Boribori quickly took off his bag, trembling as he pulled out a potion. He hurriedly removed Nameless¡¯s torn and battered gear to treat him, but his body was already in a terrible state. No potion could fix this.

    ¡°I-I¡¯ll forgive you, I will. So, so, please, please don¡¯t die¡­¡­¡±

    Boribori¡¯s tears kept falling, his throat choked, making it hard to speak. His hands trembled uncontrobly as he poured the potion over the wounds.

    His hands wouldn¡¯t stop shaking. So, Boribori clenched his mouth shut, forcing himself to swallow the sobs. Yet, despite his efforts, the tears continued to pour.

    Watching from where hey, Nameless, in his final moments, reached out and wiped away Boribori¡¯s tears, speaking with a gentle smile.

    ¡°Don¡¯t cry¡­ baby¡­¡±

    And with a long exhale, his arm fell limp. His unfocused blue eyes gazed toward the gloomy sky above.

    By then, Ricardt, who had just finished off H, stood nearby, watching the entire scene, sword still stained with blood. His eyes trembled with emotion.

    Even though Nameless was clearly dead, Boribori didn¡¯t stop trying to treat him. He kept calling out, ¡°Dad, Dad,¡± over and over.

    His jaw trembled from crying so hard that he couldn¡¯t properly chew the herbs. Forcing his jaw shut with his hand, he kept chewing.

    The uncontroble grief and unbearable pain made it feel like his heart was being ripped apart.

    Ricardt¡¯s own eyes fluttered as he closed them, his eyshes trembling. Tears trickled down, wetting his cheeks, as if the bitterness he once harbored toward the world was melting away.

    Ricardt thought to himself: He must have found salvation. He had to. I¡¯m sure of it¡­

    The cruel burden of fate ced upon humans is that they are wounded by others, and in the end, only humans can offer salvation.

    All tragedies andedies begin with humanity and end with humanity. Thus, humans are the saddest creatures, trapped in the snare of fate.

    But in his final moment, Nameless cast aside the burning vengeance that had consumed him and transcended his fate.

    In doing so, he became a father to Boribori and a mentor to Ricardt. He became the person both boys so desperately needed.

    A truly noble and magnificent human being.

    The wind is cold. But the winter, which had seemed like it would never end, was finally drawing to a close.

    Chapter 8 ¨C Bad of the Nameless Beast. The End.

    *****

 Chapter 42

    Chapter 42

    Trantor: Willia

    Maybe life is about walking through unbearable pain and unbearable sorrow while holding onto them.

    You must hold onto them. Not throw them away or ignore them, but cherish them. Ricardt and Boribori held their pain and sorrow close to their hearts.

    And, the greater that pain and sorrow, the more they would grow into stronger individuals.

    But it takes time for such things to take root and stand tall within. Time to ept, that is.

    Ricardt and Boribori buried Nameless beneath the temple. They did it to keep wild beasts froming to devour the body. As for the group of five, whether they got eaten or not, it didn¡¯t really matter.

    However, the massive corpse of the man named H was so enormous that as it decayed, it gave off a terrible stench. There was no need to endure that kind of suffering.

    And as they stayed for a few more days in the ruined vige, their food supplies began to dwindle. It was now time to leave.

    On one sunny day, the sky was blue, and the white clouds were as pure and clean as cotton. The wind was a little chilly, but if you dressed warmly, it wasn¡¯t cold enough to make you shiver.

    On such a day, Boribori sat on the temple floor with his knees drawn together, like a baby beast that couldn¡¯t leave its dead father¡¯s side.

    His expression didn¡¯t seem sad or gloomy. He wasn¡¯t dazed, nor did he seem lost in thought; he just sat there absentmindedly.

    But then, someone tapped Boribori¡¯s shoulder. When he turned around, he saw Ricardt, fully prepared to leave, with his sword slung over his shoulder, gesturing with his chin to go.

    Without a word, Boribori slung his bag over his shoulder and quietly stood up.

    When they stepped outside the temple, they were greeted by the sight of a damp, green field. It was a bit early, but white and yellow flowers had already begun to bloom.

    A clear stream, born from melted snow, flowed nearby. Sunlight hit the water, breaking into glittering fragments as it flowed to lower ground.

    Ricardt and Boribori, the two boys, walked along the stream.

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±

    A man with a neatly trimmed beard, which left quite the impression, was frowning as he carefully inspected a sword. His expression was one of deep seriousness.

    The de was about a meter long, with perfect bnce. There wasn¡¯t a single part of it that was worn or damaged.

    It was very well-crafted, but that wasn¡¯t the reason for the man¡¯s frown.

    It was the faint bluish sheen that appeared when he tilted the de slightly. The glow was so subtle that it felt like he was looking at moonlight.

    The man lifted his head and spoke. Two boys, d in red and dark brown cloaks, were quietly staring at him.

    ¡°Where did you get this?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    The boys didn¡¯t answer. Did I speak too softly? No, that couldn¡¯t be it. Could they be mute?

    The man shifted his gaze back to the sword. Then, the blond-haired boy abruptly snatched the sheath and held out his hand. It seemed like he was asking for the sword back.

    With a hint of reluctance, the man handed over the sword, and the boy, with surprisingly deft movements, sheathed it.

    Ssshhk. Tak.

    Then, as the boys turned to leave the shop, the man called out.

    ¡°W-wait a moment.¡±

    When the boys turned back, he asked them another question.

    ¡°How much are you expecting for it?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    Still, they said nothing. It seemed increasingly likely that they really couldn¡¯t speak. Two armed boys, both mute¡ªit was unusual.

    But that wasn¡¯t the most important issue at hand, so the weapons dealer hesitated for a moment. Should he offer them a low price, a fair one, or be honest?

    The blond-haired boy stared at him, almost as if he could see through the man¡¯s internal conflict and was patiently waiting to see where his conscience wouldnd.

    In the end, the dealer decided to go with his conscience, though it came with a deep sigh of regret.

    ¡°That sword, from what I can tell, is made with a metal called True Silver. Even a tiny amount mixed in makes it valuable. On top of that, there aren¡¯t many cksmiths in the entire Empire who can handle True Silver. Some say only Sword Masters use weapons made from it because it aligns so well with mana. What I¡¯m saying is, I can¡¯t afford to pay you what it¡¯s really worth. If you want a proper price, you¡¯ll need to take it to a big city and put it up for auction.¡±

    The sword in Ricardt¡¯s hand was none other than the one Steiner used. The photom sword was at Boribori¡¯s waist.

    Ricardt gave a slight smile at the weapon dealer¡¯s honest words, ced a silver coin on the counter for the appraisal, and gave a small bow. Boribori followed his lead awkwardly, bowing his head in a clumsy mimicry.

    Then they left the weapon shop. Steiner¡¯s sword was securely strapped to Ricardt¡¯s backpack.

    Though it was the same type of longsword, it was smaller than Ricardt¡¯s meteoric iron sword, so it was unlikely he¡¯d ever use it. After all, a sword that feels right in your hand is the best weapon for you.

    Ricardt and Boribori wandered around the city, buying the supplies they needed.

    They bought staple crops like potatoes and sweet potatoes, various grains that could be ground, steamed, and dried into portable food, smoked ham, firewood, and other necessities.

    During their shopping, however, the two didn¡¯t say a word. If they needed tomunicate, they simply tapped each other or gestured with their eyes or hands.

    Perhaps it was because they had experienced too much sorrow after losing Nameless. But that wasn¡¯t really it. It was more like they were mimicking Nameless.

    It was both a form of mourning between the two boys and, in a way, a game. Like a silent bet where the first one to speak loses. Although they hadn¡¯t explicitly agreed to such a game, it felt like that.

    As a result, they often met each other¡¯s eyes and ended up smiling for no particr reason. And in that silence, the boys learned the value of quietness. By being silent, they began to hear and see things they hadn¡¯t noticed before.

    And, well, not talking wasn¡¯t ufortable. Surprisingly, they managed tomunicate just fine, and if they ever encountered a fight, they didn¡¯t avoid it; they just faced it head-on.

    In this way, Ricardt and Boribori left the city and began walking southward along the road. They were heading toward the Academy.

    Looking around at the scenery, it felt as if they were standing at the boundary between winter and spring. It was both the end of one season and the beginning of another. Ricardt didn¡¯t particrly like winter, but thinking about Nameless made him feel differently.

    A mix of lingering sadness and the joy of weing spring swirled together. It wasn¡¯t confusion; rather, it felt like the blending of these emotions created a third, more mysterious feeling.

    Come to think of it, in a way, this was an incident where two of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords died at once. And one of them was taken down by Ricardt himself.

    This was an extraordinary feat, something beyond reason, yet Ricardt didn¡¯t care much about it. Whether people knew about it or not didn¡¯t matter to him.

    Fame was just fame. It was weightless, like a feather without substance. Ricardt knew that, in time, it would scatter like sand in the wind.

    There were many powerful people in the world, and someone else would surely rise to fill the void. And that person, too, would eventually fall to someone else. That was the fate of those who walked the path of the sword.

    So, what was truly important? For Ricardt, a harmonious family had given him a sense of inner peace, and Nameless had instilled in him a belief in human will and an unyielding spirit.

    That was what mattered. And Ricardt hadn¡¯t lost sight of that crucial point.

    He had long since mastered the art of wielding a sword. Now, it was time to seek something deeper and wider than mere fame.

    Ssh! Ssh!

    As Ricardt walked, lost in thought, he crossed a bridge and suddenly heard the sound of violent sshing.

    He stopped and looked down under the bridge. Not far from there, a knight in armor was floundering in the water.

    But on second thought, it didn¡¯t seem like a knight. The figure was too small to be one. Moreover, they seemed to have lost their sword, as the scabbard at their waist was empty.

    Secondly, it was impossible to actually drown there because the river wasn¡¯t that deep.

    In other words, someone in armor was thrashing around in the water all by themselves.

    Ricardt and Boribori stood still, watching the scene curiously, wondering what the person was doing. After a moment, they realized that the person might actually need some help, so they walked down from the bridge.

    As they approached the armored individual, they noticed that the so-called ¡®great helm¡¯, a helmetmonly referred to as a ¡®tin can¡¯, had rotated sideways, blocking the person¡¯s field of vision.

    As Ricardt and Boribori were descending the bridge, they noticed that the armored figure had managed to get back ontond, wobbling but somehow regaining bnce. They decided to simply watch.

    But then, the person iled wildly again and fell backward onto the gravel,nding on their butt. After sitting there for a moment, they awkwardly twisted their helmet back into ce and took a moment to catch their breath.

    When the figure finally noticed the two boys staring down at them, they were startled and shifted their weight, trying to move away.

    ¡°Eek!¡±

    And then they dragged themselves along the ground, moving away.

    ¡°D-don¡¯te any closer!¡±

    It was obvious to anyone listening that the voice was a girl trying to imitate the deep tone of a grown man. The two boys had no intention of getting closer in the first ce, so they just stood there, watching.

    ¡°Hmph.¡±

    Boribori, puzzled by what he was seeing, let out a small sound. Ricardt immediately pointed at him and said,

    ¡°Ah! You lost.¡±

    ¡°I lost? How?¡±

    ¡°You just said ¡®hmph¡¯.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not talking.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, you still lost.¡±

    ¡°Dad used to say ¡®hmph¡¯ all the time.¡±

    ¡°Did he? Well, anyway, Boribori, you lost.¡±

    ¡°¡­What happens if I lose?¡±

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know about that.¡±

    The armored girl, still sitting on the ground and unable to get up, blinked in confusion as she listened to their strange conversation,pletely lost for words.

    It was clear they didn¡¯t understand each other. They had no idea why the girl was floundering by the water in armor, and she had now idea why the two boys were engrossed in a nonsensical debate over who had ¡®lost¡¯ in some silent game.

    Still, from the girl¡¯s perspective, the two boys looked somewhat peculiar. They were better armed than she had expected and much too clean to be thieves or bandits.

    There were plenty of children who turned to banditry from a young age, but those bandits usually lived hidden away in the mountains or forests, which meant they rarely bathed and were filthy.

    Ricardt and Boribori, who hadn¡¯t spoken a word for days, finally broke their silence because of the girl who made them do so. They turned to look at her.

    Ricardt spoke.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think you should dry your clothes and warm up? It¡¯s still cold, you know. You could die.¡±

    There were countless ways to die in the wilderness, even without a fight. Starvation and hypothermia were the mostmon.

    Anyone who spent even one night outdoors without the proper supplies would understand how brutal it could be, especially since winter hadn¡¯t fully passed yet.

    From Ricardt¡¯s perspective, the girl seemed to have nothing but her armor.

    ¡°Uh¡­ uh¡­¡±

    But pure goodwill was rare in this world. She couldn¡¯t just blindly ept an offer of help.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t want to, that¡¯s fine. Take care of yourself. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    When the girl hesitated, Ricart turned around coolly, almost to the point of seeming cold, and started to walk away. The girl quickly called out after him, realizing she might actually die if she let them go.

    ¡°W-wait a moment!¡±

    Ricardt and Boribori stopped and turned back to look at her.

    ¡°I-I am grateful for your kind offer, but I¡­ I have nothing to give in return. If you intend to demand my body as payment, I cannot allow that. Swear to me by the gods and the Empire that you will not!¡±

    Her speech was strange, like the formal, antiquated manner of knights from his grandfather¡¯s time.

    ¡°Sure, I promise.¡±

    Ricardt said immediately, without hesitation. He had never had any such intention, so it wasn¡¯t a hard promise to make.

    He reached out his hand. The girl hesitated for a moment, then took his hand and stood up.

    Once standing, she was about the same height as Ricardt, roughly 160 centimeters. Normally, girls tended to grow faster at that age, but since Ricardt was also unusually well-developed for his age, it seemed they were about the same age.

    ¡°It¡¯s a bit early, but let¡¯s look for a ce to camp.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    And so, the two boys and one girl traveled together. The girl¡¯s chainmail clinked with every step she took, and the wet surcoat she wore over her armor was a in purple, without any emblem.

    Since they needed to light a fire and dry her clothes as quickly as possible, they didn¡¯t travel far. They found a suitable spot near the stream, inside a nearby forest.

    It was a ce where arge, t rock jutted out like a natural roof. They set down their gear and immediately started a campfire.

    The problem was that in order to dry off, the girl would have to remove both her armor and clothes.

    She was clearly ufortable, awkward even in just sitting down.

    Even after sitting, she didn¡¯t seem to know what to do with herself, constantly ncing at the two boys who were staring at her quite openly, which only made her feel more self-conscious. It took her quite a while just to take off her helmet.

    But when she finally did, an incredibly beautiful face was revealed.

    Her blonde hair, which had been tied up tightly, was now slightly disheveled, and some stray locks were clinging to her face due to the moisture, but none of that diminished her beauty.

    Her eyes were a bright blue, like gemstones, her skin was as wless and pale as snow, and her features were sharp and striking.

    However, given the circumstances, the girl appeared rather pitiable as she huddled by the fire, its light casting soft shadows over her timid figure.

    The boys¡¯ments were, to say the least, out of ce.

    ¡°If Erze had seen you, she would¡¯ve skinned you alive.¡±

    ¡°I thought the same thing.¡±

    ¡°¡­Huh?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Don¡¯t worry. We killed her.¡±

    ¡°¡­Wh-what?¡±

    The girl didn¡¯t understand what they were talking about, but it sounded ominous. Boribori pulled out a towel and some spare clothes from his bag and offered them to her.

    ¡°Do you want help taking off your armor?¡±

    Ricardt asked. The girl lowered her head shyly and said,

    ¡°Y-yes¡­¡­¡±

    Ricardt, surprisingly, undid the sps of her armor with incredible skill, removing it in an instant. Beneath the armor, she wore a gambeson¡ªa thickly padded garment that, once soaked, became very heavy.

    He hung the armor on a nearby branch, then sat down next to Boribori. Together, the boys turned their backs to the girl.

    The girl, flustered and confused by the situation, had never experienced anything like this in her life. Her heart pounded as she wondered if this was really okay.

    More than anything, she had never imagined she¡¯d have to change clothes out in the wild.

    But Ricardt and Boribori didn¡¯t ask her any questions about her circumstances, nor did they even ask for her name.

    In any case, the girl removed her wet clothes, using the towel to dry herself as she stared at the two boys¡¯ backs. Then she changed into the spare clothes Ricardt had given her. Since they were about the same height, they fit her reasonably well.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m dressed now.¡±

    The girl said, her voice fluctuating as if she hadn¡¯t fully settled down from the chaos of the moment.

    Ricardt and Boribori, like true gentlemen, hadn¡¯t turned around at all until now, and only then did they turn to face her.

    ¡°Feel better now?¡±

    Ricardt asked. The girl, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, nodded quietly. Having passed through a major ordeal, she seemed to have calmed down somewhat. Her damp, untied blonde hair now fell all the way down her back.

    ¡°If we¡¯re heading in the same direction, we can take you with us. Where are you headed?¡±

    The girl, for some reason looking forlorn, stared into the campfire and replied softly.

    ¡°Beringen Adventurers¡¯ Academy.¡±

    *****

 Chapter 43

    Chapter 43

    Trantor: Willia

    At the girl¡¯s mention of going to Beringen Academy, Ricardt and Boribori stared at her nkly. Technically, she was their junior. The whole senior-junior thing wasn¡¯t all that important, but still.

    It was early evening, and the sky was navy blue with thest traces of the sun lingering faintly. Sitting across the campfire, Ricardt asked,

    ¡°Why there?¡±

    ¡°Because I need to enroll. And¡­¡±

    Ricardt and Boribori waited for the girl, who had half-hidden her face between her knees, to finish her sentence.

    ¡°I have to be number one there, no matter what.¡±

    ¡°¡­Why?¡±

    ¡°Well, because that¡¯s the only way I¡¯ll be useful¡­¡±

    ¡°Useful for what?¡±

    ¡°Just¡­ for everything¡­¡±

    It seemed like there was something she couldn¡¯t exin. So Ricardt and Boribori didn¡¯t pry further.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a relief. We¡¯re heading there too. Beringen Academy.¡±

    Boribori said. At that, the girl widened her big eyes and lifted her face from between her knees.

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Are you two enrolling as well?¡±

    ¡°No. We enrolled about a year ago.¡±

    ¡°¡­What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an Adventurer Academy. Sometimes we take on requests. We¡¯re heading back after finishing one now.¡±

    Ricardt spoke as if it was nothing, but they were returning after eliminating none other than one of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords and the notorious Ernburg Five.

    ¡°Oh¡­ wasn¡¯t it dangerous?¡±

    ¡°Of course it was. But what can you do? If you want to be an adventurer, you have to live half-prepared to die.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I guess so¡­¡±

    ¡°What? Doesn¡¯t sound too appealing now, does it?¡±

    ¡°No, actually, it might be better this way.¡±

    ¡°So, you must have been pretty mistreated at home too, huh?¡±

    Ricardt said. He had never met anyone who had been treated well by their family, except for himself.

    ¡°Yeah, I guess you could say that¡­ but still, I want to achieve something on my own. I think being an adventurer gives me more freedom than bing a knight. The danger is just the price for that freedom.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a positive outlook. And you¡¯re right. You¡¯re not bound by oaths. But you need to establish your own principles that are as important as oaths. Otherwise, it¡¯ll turn into recklessness, not freedom.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    The girl was momentarily speechless at Ricardt¡¯s mature words. It was a bit of a shock to her.

    ¡°¡­So, what¡¯s your principle?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. That¡¯s why I¡¯m at the academy. To figure it out, one step at a time.¡±

    The girl fell into thought for a moment, then spoke again.

    ¡°Anyway, that means we¡¯re all part of the same academy, huh?¡±

    Though they hadn¡¯t known each other long, the fact that they were all from the same academy seemed to ease her wariness a bit. Actually, it eased her quite a lot.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±

    Ricardt asked.

    ¡°Ah, um¡­ Mari. And you guys?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    After Mari introduced herself, she asked for Ricardt and Boribori¡¯s names. But for some reason, the two boys looked at her with suspicious expressions.

    ¡°Wh-what? What is it?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a noble, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Boribori asked bluntly, causing Mari to flinch in surprise.

    ¡°Uh, n-no, I¡¯m not.¡±

    It was such an obvious and clumsy lie.

    Ricardt had always been sharp-eyed, and Boribori had experienced this before with Ricardt, so he noticed it instinctively. In truth, there was no need to be perceptive at all¡ªit was just too obvious.

    And Boribori, having been around Ricardt for so long, had learned quite a bit by observing. Observational skills were one of those things.

    Boribori continued to press.

    ¡°Custom-made armor? Your family must be rich?¡±

    ¡°Uh, um, w-well, yeah, but just because you have money doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re a noble.¡±

    Mari was visibly flustered. Since she clearly didn¡¯t want to reveal more, Ricardt and Boribori didn¡¯t press further. After all, hadn¡¯t Ricardt himself been hiding the fact that he was a noble?

    ¡°Yeah, well, I¡¯m sure you have your reasons. But being part of the same academy means it doesn¡¯t matter whether you¡¯re a noble or not. We¡¯re all students here. So, don¡¯t feel slighted by that.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t. I won¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°So you are a noble.¡±

    ¡°Ah, no. That¡¯s not what I meant.¡±

    ¡°Ricky.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Boribori.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°I know, my name¡¯s weird. But the Bori sword style is going to be awesome.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    To Mari, they seemed like slightly odd boys. Not that they seemed malicious or anything, just¡­ odd.

    But there was a lot epassed in that ¡®odd¡¯. Despite their young age, these two boys seemed unafraid of the world. They were around the same age as her, yet so different.

    That difference was strangely impressive, and in some way, it gave her courage. How could they be so rxed?

    ¡°By the way, if you want to be ranked first, you¡¯re going to have to work hard.¡±

    Boribori said.

    ¡°Huh? Oh, I¡¯m pretty confident with the sword. It might not happen right away, but I¡¯ll definitely make it to the top.¡±

    ¡°Sure, sure. Give it your best shot.¡±

    Ricardt said, poking the campfire with a wooden stick, seemingly uninterested.

    The current number one at Beringen Academy was Ricardt, and considering he had just killed one of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords, it was practically impossible for any student to outrank him.

    Thinking about the incident with his eldest brother, Ricardt wasn¡¯t the type to pick fights unnecessarily, but if he did fight, he never held back.

    ¡°By the way, isn¡¯t it too early for swimming?¡±

    Boribori asked Mari, referring to when she was iling around by the river.

    ¡°I just¡­ wanted to escape a little¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to get yourself killed.¡±

    Ricardt warned. It wasn¡¯t out of concern, but a genuine warning.

    ¡°Sorry¡­¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to apologize to us for. Anyway, let¡¯s eat something, get to bed early, and head out at dawn.¡±

    ¡°¡­Thanks.¡±

    Ricardt and Boribori decided to eat the heavier food from their provisions first, to lighten their load.

    They roasted potatoes and sweet potatoes over the fire, and added a bit of salted meat. It made for a surprisingly decent meal. Mari didn¡¯t seem picky about what she ate, either.

    After the meal, Ricardt took off his cloak and draped it over Mari. She fidgeted awkwardly, ncing around nervously.

    ¡°Th-thank you¡­¡±

    ¡°Just do it asionally.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Saying thank you or sorry too often makes it lose its weight.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ okay.¡±

    After that, Ricardt and Boribori shared a cloak and leaned against the wall, watching the campfire as they rested.

    Before long, the sky had turned ck, and the stars shined silently overhead.

    Mari still hadn¡¯t fully rxed, so she doubted she¡¯d be able to sleep well. Besides, sleeping outside was incredibly ufortable.

    But when both body and mind are exhausted, and you¡¯ve eaten your fill, sleepes whether you want it to or not.

    The crackling of the campfire sounded like a luby.

    The next day, in the dark dawn, Ricardt extinguished the cold fire with his foot. He then turned to Mari, who was awkwardly standing nearby, still wearing Ricardt¡¯s borrowed clothes.

    ¡°Your gambeson isn¡¯t dry yet, so it¡¯d be better if I wore the armor for now.¡±

    A gambeson referred to a type of thick coat worn under armor. It provided some protection on its own, so many people favored it.

    However, since it was stuffed with cotton, even after drying near the fire all night, it was hard to drypletely through in just one night.

    ¡°Oh, okay.¡±

    ¡°You carry the helmet and gambeson.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Ricardt put on the chainmail armor that Mari had worn. After adjusting the belt to fit his waist, he handed her a sword.

    ¡°And take this. Use it for now.¡±

    It was Steiner¡¯s sword. Mari had lost her own sword and only had the scabbard left.

    Judging from the size of the scabbard she usually carried, Steiner¡¯s sword seemed to be a simr fit.

    ¡°Instead of wearing it on your waist, it¡¯s better to sling it over your shoulder like I do.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    There was no harm in wearing it on her waist, but the weight would be unevenly distributed, causing her to tire quickly during long walks.

    Since standardbat equipment is typically designed for adult men unless custom-made, how you carry it is important. While Mari¡¯s armor was custom-made, her sword was not.

    Ricardt exined everything from the smallest details. He didn¡¯t know how skilled Mari was in swordsmanship, but it was clear her field abilities werecking.

    Field abilities referred to theprehensive skills needed to sleep, eat, walk, and run outdoors, and to adapt to and ovee any situation¡ªwhether it rained, snowed, or whatever else mighte. Stamina was important, but mental toughness was just as critical.

    In other words, while swordsmanship was crucial, in real-life situations, field abilities were often more important. Many people ended up dead not because theycked skill but because they were too exhausted or overwhelmed to use their skills effectively.

    Moreover, things like urate judgment, decisiveness, focus, understanding of tactics, courage, and patience were all essential for strongbat performance.

    What made Ricardt strong wasn¡¯t just his extraordinary swordsmanship; it was that all of these qualities were unparalleled in him as well.

    Once they finished preparing and were ready to set off again, Ricardt gave Mari onest piece of advice.

    ¡°Put on your hood.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Just in case. Bugs might get attracted to you.¡±

    Mari, thinking he meant she smelled, panicked. But that wasn¡¯t it.

    ¡°You¡¯re pretty, you know.¡±

    At Ricardt¡¯s words, Mari froze. She had never heard someone so directly say she was pretty before.

    She¡¯d heard soullesspliments wrapped in flowerynguage, but never anything this blunt.

    Her face flushed, but fortunately, it was still the dark, early dawn.

    ¡°Uh, um¡­¡±

    Mari hurriedly put her hood on, trying to act like it was no big deal.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Ricardt spoke indifferently as he began walking.

    And so, the three of them started their journey towards Beringen Academy.

    As they walked down the field path, the sun slowly began to rise. The fields, touched by the early morning light, looked like the color of the ocean. Soon, sunlight spread across thend like a carpet, and the greenery, still moist from the melted snow, unfolded before them.

    Ricardt and Boribori asionally exchanged jokes or teased each other as they walked.

    Boribori remarked that Ricardt looked good in armor and asked if he had ever considered bing a knight instead of an adventurer. He even suggested Ricardt start practicing horseback riding.

    In fact, what made knights fearsome was their horses. No matter how much mana a person mastered, if they were properly hit by a charging horse, their bones would all break and they would die.

    Moreover, in terms of mobility and actualbat utility, they were far superior to ordinary swordsmen. Knights were no different from tanks that could copse enemy lines.

    However, fighting on horseback wasn¡¯t a skill you could pick up in one or two years. It was an advancedbat skill that required at least 10 years, or even a lifetime, of honing.

    The downside? It was expensive. Not just the cost of a horse but also the maintenance costs were enormous. It required pouring in a significant amount of money.

    Mari felt a little left out, but it wasn¡¯t like the two boys were deliberately excluding her. As time passed, she gradually grew closer to them. In fact, this subtle inclusion was morefortable for her than if they had been overly attentive.

    The two boys, while seeming indifferent, still looked after Mari. Almost like they were guiding her without making a big deal out of it.

    At one point, Boribori imitated the mature tone Mari had used when trying to act older, causing her to flusteredly ask him to stop, which made Ricardt burst outughing.

    Compared to when they had left the academy, their steps felt lighter. Mari also felt her fears about the uncertainty of the future begin to ease.

    When you¡¯re young, nothing is more frightening than being alone in an unfamiliar ce without knowing anyone.

    The three of them walked while taking ample breaks along the way, making the journey feel almost like a leisurely outing.

    As they rxed more, even Mariughed heartily, herughter echoing, ¡®Pahaha!¡¯ When Mariughed freely like that, she looked stunningly beautiful, to the point where it was easy to forget her mismatched clothes and somewhat ragged appearance.

    What Ricardt and Boribori hadn¡¯t noticed before was that Mari had a slightly prominent pair of front teeth, reminiscent of a rabbit, which added to her charm.

    However, the two pure-hearted boys didn¡¯t care much about Mari¡¯s appearance, rather they treated her as she was, and Mari, having escaped the suffocating life and strict formality of her past that were like a birdcage, was able to enjoy herself freely and genuinely.

    Anxiety and excitement were often separated by a thin line, and thanks to the two boys, Mari could feel more excited and thrilled than anxious.

    But as evening approached and darkness began to descend, the lighthearted fun seemed to fade along with the sun.

    Ricardt and Boribori had already calcted the distance beforehand, so they were able to reach a roadside tavern and inn just as the light began to wane.

    The inn¡¯s name was ¡®Anna¡¯s Loss¡¯. It was the same ce where, during the winter after leaving the academy, they had first met Nameless.

    This made them feel a lump in their throats, and as if something heavy was pressing down on their chests. However, it wasn¡¯t enough to show on their faces.

    Still, Mari could sense the subtle shift in the atmosphere and decided to keep quiet as well.

    When they opened the door to the tavern, an unpleasant odor greeted them. The rough and dirty-looking patrons inside all turned their gaze toward Ricardt and his group.

    Unfazed, Ricardt walked straight over to the bartender, the same one they had briefly spoken to a month and a half or two months ago.

    At first, the bartender didn¡¯t recognize him, but soon his expression changed as if he remembered.

    ¡°Oh? You guys.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been a while. We¡¯d like to get something to eat and rent a room if possible.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ by the way, where are youing from?¡±

    ¡°From the north.¡±

    ¡°The north? Oh yeah,st time you mentioned taking on the request, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re dead.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°The Ernburg Five¡ªthey¡¯re all dead.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    The bartender could hardly believe what he was hearing. It was even more unbelievable that these two boys were the ones who had aplished it. To him, it sounded like a joke, and not a very funny one at that.

    But just then, someone from across the room looked over at Ricardt and spoke up.

    ¡°Hey, look at this. A little knight has wandered into our tavern.¡±

    Ricardt, with his small frame and the armor sized to fit his not fully-grown body, didn¡¯t look like a typical knight. It was a bitical, really.

    Ignoring thement, Ricardt turned back to the bartender.

    ¡°Do you have any rooms or not?¡±

    ¡°Huh? Oh, yeah, I have rooms, but things aren¡¯t quite the same as they used to be, you see¡­¡±

    The bartender couldn¡¯t finish his sentence because the man who had spoken to Ricardt earlier stood up and started walking over.

    ¡°I asked what you¡¯re doing here, little knight.¡±

    Ricardt turned to face him. The man was tall and broad-faced. This wasn¡¯t just yful teasing; it was clear things wouldn¡¯t end there.

    ¡°Bori, your sword.¡±

    Ricardt handed the sword slung over his shoulder to Boribori as he spoke.

    ¡°Got it.¡±

    There was no need for long exnations¡ªthey understood each other perfectly. Since the space was a bit cramped, Ricardt borrowed Boribori¡¯s sword for better maneuverability.

    Boribori took Ricardt¡¯s sword and handed over his phantom sword. He also pulled Mari behind him, making sure she was out of the way.

    Mari, still wearing her hood, had no idea what was going on and was feeling increasingly anxious. This was her first time in a ce like this, with a foul smell and a bunch of rough-looking men.

    Ricardt, now holding the phantom sword in one hand, spoke.

    ¡°Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you really want.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re after my gear, juste at me. Don¡¯t waste time picking a fight like a coward.¡±

    ¡°¡­Hah!¡±

    The man let out a disbelieving huff, clearly taken aback. Then he nced over his shoulder, making a signal to someone. At that, several people from two nearby tables stood up all at once.

    Seeing this, the bartender quickly backed away to a safe distance. Unlike two months ago, this ce was no longer a neutral zone. In the underworld, territories changed hands frequently.

    The Arisen Brotherhood no longer existed, and a new power had taken control. As a result, the rules of the streets had changed.

    The man turned back to Ricardt and spoke again.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll speak like a man. Hand over everything you¡¯ve got. Money, gear, everything.¡±

    ¡°Then try and take it¡ªif you¡¯re capable.¡±

    With that, Ricardt drew the phantom sword in his hand in a sh.

    The men standing behind the leader saw that Ricardt had done something, but none of them could see clearly what it was.

    Momentster, the man¡¯s thick neck slowly tilted, and then his head fell to the side with a thud.

    At the same time, Ricardt kicked the still-standing body, sending it copsing backward, blood spraying out and sttering onto the dead man¡¯spanions.

    Whether it was the quality of the sword or Ricardt¡¯s skill, there wasn¡¯t a single drop of blood on the phantom sword.

    Ricardt spoke calmly.

    ¡°Next.¡±

    *****

 Chapter 44

    Chapter 44

    Trantor: Willia

    TL Note: Mari changed to Marie

    The world wasn¡¯t filled with only beautiful and fragrant things. There were far more dirty and ugly things.

    But what if the world were full of only beautiful things? Most likely, humans would find it so boring that they wouldn¡¯t be able to endure it.

    And so, in the end, destroying heaven with their own hands was the vile nature of the creature known as humans. Or, on the contrary, maybe that was what being human truly meant.

    Marie, half by her own will and half by force, left the safe and protected environment and stepped into the dirty and ugly world.

    She didn¡¯t step out with the naive mindset of a girl full of dreams. After all, she had heard in various ways that the world was dangerous and brutal.

    However, there was a vast difference between vaguely imagining something and experiencing it firsthand.

    There were things that turned out to be not as bad as she had worried, and there were things she thought were no big deal, but turned out to be far more dangerous and difficult than expected.

    The overwhelming uncertainty of not knowing where to go, the dangerous people with unknown intentions, hunger, cold, and death.

    It was a world where, once you stepped outside the door, death wasn¡¯t far away. Of course, the fear and desire to avoid it were natural. But was it right to live forgetting that fact, or should one ept it?

    In the midst of this, she met two boys. Ricardt and Boribori. When having a normal conversation, they were just like kids her age, but in the smallest details, many differences stood out.

    Keeping track of time, assessing the weather, gathering necessary supplies, and most importantly, knowing where to go¡ªchoosing a path and walking it.

    The boys had something different from her. It was the uniqueposure and toughness that only those who had grown up possessed, and the atmosphere that radiated from it.

    And, how they acted when faced with dangerous situations.

    ¡°Y-You bastard!¡±

    ¡°Kill him!¡±

    The thugs shouted. But instead of retreating, Ricardt hurled himself at them.

    Though the grown men swarmed over a single boy, the space was too cramped. Ricardt swiftly ducked and shed at one man¡¯s side, quickly slipping through the narrow area.

    Then, passing through the thugs, he lightly jumped onto the table while still in armor.

    Then, from atop the table, he crouched down low, bending his knees almost as if squatting, and spun quickly like a top.

    Whoosh!

    As soon as the thugs turned to look at Ricardt, a sharp sound cutting through the air reached them, and something pale shed before their eyes.

    The sharp arc of his sword sliced through several people¡¯s eyes, noses, cheeks, and necks. Teeth ttered to the floor as the gums of one man were shed.

    ¡°Aaaaghhh!¡±

    The terrified screams of the onlookers mixed with the cries of those cut by the de. Some of them lunged at Ricardt, who stood on the table.

    But Ricardt once again leapt lightly off the table, and as he did, he swung his sword swiftly left and right in the air. Two heads thudded to the ground.

    Everyone watching, except Boribori, widened their eyes to their limits, stunned by Ricardt¡¯s near-superhuman skill. Whether it was fear or awe, even they couldn¡¯t tell.

    Amidst the chaos, Ricardt kicked away the headless bodies, causing those recklessly charging at him to stumble. In their confusion, they hurriedly shoved the corpses aside, trying to attack Ricardt again, but he was no longer there.

    By this point, no one knew where he was¡ªonly the sound of his sword cutting through the air could be heard. And every time, someone would spray blood and die. Some copsed in a stagger, others fell dead instantly.

    What the hell is this? Am I having a nightmare? The thugs under attack thought.

    Ricardt had be different from when he first left the tavern, ¡®Anna¡¯s Loss¡¯. Had he grown? No, to be more precise, it was a change in style.

    Once someone reaches a certain level, it¡¯s not about what¡¯s better or worse, but a matter of style. Ricardt had unknowingly started to resemble Nameless.

    But it wasn¡¯t just simple imitation. He had made it his own.

    The key to Ricardt¡¯s fighting style had always been precise timing and clean lines, but now it felt as though he no longer cared about such things, fighting more instinctively and with a rougher edge.

    And indeed, in the few months that had passed, his body had grown a bit, and his physical strength had increased. He was getting closer to the peak of his abilities.

    Meanwhile, Marie watched all of this as if she were entranced. She didn¡¯t even notice the thugs dying¡ªher eyes were focused only on Ricardt.

    It was as if she were watching an painter painting with blood as his medium. The lines were rough, like the work of a master artist with a wild style. It was shockingly beautiful. A level of skill she had never seen before, or even imagined.

    Thud. Crash.

    Thest thug copsed onto the table like wetundry caught on a clothesline, then fell to the ground along with the table. It didn¡¯t take long to deal with the half-dozen or so thugs.

    The scene was aplete mess; not a single table or chair remained upright, and the floor was a sea of blood. The thick stench of blood was dizzying.

    The other people were huddled in a corner, trembling with fear. It was just like when Nameless hade here.

    Ricardt swung his sword through the air, shaking off some of the blood. Blood sttered onto the ceiling and walls. Carefully avoiding the clutter, he stepped around the blood pooled on the floor and approached Boribori and Marie.

    Boribori handed him a towel stained with brown marks. It was an old, frequently washed towel, and the brown stains were remnants of blood.

    Ricardt wiped his sword clean, sheathed it, and returned it to its owner. Then, looking at Marie, he spoke.

    ¡°I tried to fight without scratching the armor as much as possible. But some blood got on the surcoat here.¡±

    Ricardt pointed to the dark purple surcoat he was wearing over his armor.

    ¡°¡­Huh?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m asking if it¡¯s okay.¡±

    ¡°Uh, yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°Anyway, it looks like we won¡¯t be staying here tonight.¡±

    Boribori, looking at the wrecked scene, remarked. He turned his head to the bartender, who had been standing the whole time but was now panting heavily. He was trembling as if he were shaking like a leaf in the wind.

    When Ricardt approached him, the bartender¡¯s legs gave out, and he copsed to the floor. Ricardt, seeing the man¡¯s mouth open and close soundlessly, spoke.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t our fault, you know that, right?¡±

    The bartender frantically nodded his head in agreement. With that, Ricardt and Boribori left the tavern.

    Unlike before, there wasn¡¯t a trace of their former innocence. They had gone through many situations like this over the past winter, and now they had the ability to handle the consequences of their actions.

    ¡°What are you doing? Let¡¯s go, Marie.¡±

    ¡°Ah, oh-okay.¡±

    Marie was in a slightly dazed state, but she managed toe to her senses and followed Ricardt and Boribori.

    As they stepped outside the tavern, the warmth inside vanished, and the cold air once again wrapped around their faces. But at least they were free from the stench of blood, and the fresh air cleared their heads.

    The three of them had no choice but to sleep outside that night. The question was whether it was better to sleep in the stench of blood or endure the cold. Based on their experience, Ricardt and Boribori thought thetter was preferable.

    They found a suitable spot, lit a small fire, and Ricardt began removing his armor again. He took it off effortlessly, even without anyone helping him, as if he had been handling battle gear for a long time.

    ¡°You should be able to wear it again by tomorrow.¡±

    Ricardt said to Marie.

    ¡°Okay¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not as shocked as I thought you¡¯d be.¡±

    Boribori remarked to Marie.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Most people freeze up the first time they see someone die. Have you experienced it before?¡±

    ¡°Ah well, I¡¯ve seen executions a few times. Beheadings, hangings, burnings, drownings, quarterings¡­ Was this better than those? I¡¯m not sure, but anyway.¡±

    There were many types of executions. Since it was a time when honor was highly valued, the method of execution varied depending on the crime and the status of the criminal.

    For nobles, execution was usually by beheading, though whether it was done with a sword or an axe made a difference. Being beheaded with an axe was considered dishonorable.

    For witches or wizards, although not always, there was a high chance of being burned at the stake. This was to ensure their souls were burned as well, preventing them from casting curses even in death.

    In rural areas, the lord might personally carry out executions, while in cities, there were professional executioners.

    And often, these executions were public. With not much in the way of entertainment, public executions became a kind of mass spectacle.

    One of the most horrific forms of execution involved taking the condemned to a high ce using adder, tying them up, and then having a torturer y them piece by piece for several days. The longer the person was kept alive, the more the torturer was paid.

    ¡°That does make sense.¡±

    Boribori immediately understood. Despite his innocent appearance, Boribori had also be somewhat immune to cruelty due to the harsh environment of the era.

    ¡°But you know, how high does Ricky rank? Are all the academy students like you?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s number one.¡±

    Boribori answered for Ricardt, who was roasting sweet potatoes and potatoes. Marie visibly reacted with surprise.

    ¡°Huh? Oh¡­ uh¡­¡±

    ¡°Why? Was his skill not impressive enough to be number one?¡±

    ¡°Huh? No, no¡­ that¡¯s not it at all.¡±

    Ricardt and Boribori had no idea why she was so flustered, but they didn¡¯t pay it much mind.

    ¡°Marie, have you ever killed someone before?¡±

    Ricardt asked, his eyes still fixed on the potatoes roasting in the fire. The mes flickered, casting a reddish glow in his hazel eyes.

    ¡°No. Not yet.¡±

    ¡°Then you should prepare yourself.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been steeling myself for it.¡±

    ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°To not hesitate.¡±

    At this, Ricardt and Boribori chuckled quietly, as if something about her words amused them. Marie blinked, unsure why they wereughing.

    ¡°Not that. I mean, you know when you start cutting down and killing people¡­ it¡¯s strangely addictive. Don¡¯t get too caught up in it.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    It was a shocking and unsettlingment, something she had never heard even from her swordsmanship instructor. Marie found herself speechless. What kind of kids are they¡­?

    Boribori, meanwhile, was rolling the hot potato between his palms to cool it down. Given the cold weather, it felt oddly pleasant to do so.

    ¡°Ricky and I talked once about why bad guys are, well, bad guys. Most of them, it turns out, get a taste for killing people. They enjoy the fear in others¡¯ eyes, the way people look at them in terror. That thrill drives them to do worse things, and eventually, they reach a point of no return. They forget who they originally were.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why I saidst time that having principles is important.¡±

    Ricardt said, offering her half of a sweet potato he had split open. Its golden interior emitted a mouthwatering aroma.

    Marie, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions, had nothing to say. She just took the half of the sweet potato, blowing on it as she ate it slowly.

    ¡°Training hard and bing strong is just part of the process. It can¡¯t be the goal in itself. I think it¡¯s more important to make good friends and face challenges together.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡±

    Ricardt spoke, and Boribori agreed.

    But Marie couldn¡¯t help but wonder if this was something only people like them could say. In a world where being weak meant being nothing, it seemed like such thoughts were a luxury.

    Still, it couldn¡¯t be helped. Whether it was because they had a different starting point or had climbed to higher ground, the two boys saw things from a perspective different from ordinary people.

    The experiences they¡¯d been through, the growth they¡¯d achieved¡ªit had been quite a year for them.

    And there was another year ahead.

    The three of them set out early the next morning for Beringen. It would take about a day of walking at a normal pace, so they quickened their steps a little.

    However, the return journey wasn¡¯t as easy as when they had left. The snow had started to melt, and the roads had be muddy.

    Their ankles sank deep into the mud, so they decided to walk across a grassy field. The grass roots held the ground together, making it a bit more manageable.

    It seemed like walking in armor was difficult for Marie. Despite the cold weather, sweat poured from her as if it were raining. However, it appeared she had trained with mana to some extent, as she managed to keep up, though clearly exhausted.

    Ricardt and Boribori didn¡¯t show excessive consideration for her. They didn¡¯t offer to carry her, or take her helmet or sword for her. They simply gauged the time by looking at the sun, walking ahead and asionally waiting for her to catch up.

    ¡°S-sorry.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to apologize. We¡¯re not tired at all.¡±

    ¡°¡­Huh?¡±

    Indeed, the two boys seemed to have a mindset different from that of ordinary people.

    Regardless, after walking diligently with a few breaks, they managed to reach Beringen by evening.

    As Ricardt and Boribori entered the guild headquarters at the foot of the hill, they felt a sense of homing. In unfamiliar ces, one¡¯s nerves were constantly on edge, and that kind of mental strain was exhausting.

    Dunkel was there, leaning on the bar with his elbow and resting his chin on his hand. The moment he saw Ricardt, his eyes widened to the size ofnterns.

    He gasped as if he had just seen a ghost.

    ¡°Huh!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter? You look like you¡¯ve seen a dead man.¡±

    ¡°¡­No, it¡¯s nothing.¡±

    Ricardt, not paying much attention to Dunkel¡¯s reaction, pulled out a few items from Boribori¡¯s bag: Erze¡¯s ear, Reto¡¯s crystal ball and magic staff, and his grotesque nose.

    ¡°We¡¯vepleted the request. How are the kids doing?¡±

    Dunkel¡¯s eyes, which were already wide, grew evenrger when he saw the items ced on the bar. He looked like he might faint from shock.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t withhold supplies thinking we wouldn¡¯tplete the job, did you? That wouldn¡¯t be fun.¡±

    Ricardt¡¯s words were polite, but his tone was unmistakably threatening. Dunkel, still dazed, stood frozen for a moment before hurriedly shaking his head.

    ¡°N-no, no! The kids didn¡¯t starve, I swear. You sent a lot of money midway, remember?¡±

    ¡°Oh, good. That¡¯s a relief.¡±

    ¡°No, I mean¡­ you actually¡­¡±

    ¡°We had help. We learned a lot. Both me and Bori.¡±

    Ricardt spoke calmly, though what he had aplished was truly hard to believe, even if his tone suggested otherwise.

    ¡°Anything happen at the Academy? Besides the food issue, I mean.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ uh¡­¡±

    Dunkel needed a moment to gather his thoughts. His eyes darted around as he swallowed, then spoke again.

    ¡°You might need to enforce some discipline. Some uncontroble kids have joined recently. That¡¯s a problem, if anything. But nothing too serious. Anyway, wee back. Honestly, I didn¡¯t expect you to make it.¡±

    Ricardt simply smiled faintly.

    ¡°Please prepare some warm water. I¡¯m exhausted. Feels good to be back home.¡±

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s talk moreter, after you¡¯ve rested. You did well. We¡¯ll go over the reward details tomorrow.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a simple task of killing just a couple of people. It involved eliminating two of the five members of the Ernburg five. And not only were those two dead, but the entire Ernburg five had been wiped out, along with two of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords.

    Ricardt didn¡¯t fully grasp the magnitude of what had happened. Whether the guild would take a stance on the matter, or whether it would attract attention from other powerful figures across the Empire, he didn¡¯t know.

    For now, Ricardt and Boribori needed to rest. No¡ªthere were three people who needed to rest.

    ¡°Ah, right. Prepare three baths. We have apanion with us. She¡¯s an Academy student too¡ªwe met her on the way.¡±

    Ricardt pointed his thumb at Marie as he spoke. She was wearing Ricardt¡¯s red cloak with the hood pulled down low, making her face hard to see.

    It wasn¡¯t a difficult request, so Dunkel nodded. Through the cloak, the sight of her purple surcoat brushed the corner of his vision, but he was far too shocked to pay it much attention at the moment.

    Ricardt unpacked his things in the room, undressed, and submerged himself in the warm bathwater. As he did, an overwhelming sense of exhaustion washed over him, almost causing him to lose consciousness.

    Boribori felt the same, and so did Marie, who wasn¡¯t used to traveling. After all, they had spent two nights sleeping outdoors.

    Going through hardships together naturally brings people closer¡ªit creates a sense of camaraderie.

    Having that shared experience means they now understood each other on a deeper level, and as that sense of camaraderie grew, so did their bond, bing more special.

    And so, winter passed, and slowly, spring approached. New connections, like the budding shoots of spring, began to sprout.

    *****.

 Chapter 45

    Chapter 45

    Trantor: Willia

    ¡°There¡¯s something called a deposit fund. There¡¯s a request, but you can¡¯t know who the client is. Not just anyone can do it; only people or organizations with a decent reputation can. There are rumors floating around, but nothing can be confirmed for sure. So, if you¡¯ve reallypleted the request, the deposit fund will be paid out.¡±

    Dunkel said as he sat in a chair in front of a small table in the room where Ricardt had spent the night. The room was filled with a soft white light, easy on the eyes.

    Ricardt and Boribori were sitting on the bed, listening to him. However, it was obvious to anyone that Boribori had a distracted expression, lost in thought. Ricardt was the only one paying proper attention to the conversation.

    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying a verification process is necessary, aside from the evidence.¡±

    Ricardt¡¯s words made Dunkel nod.

    But right now, there was an even more serious issue than the request. Dunkel swallowed hard and spoke.

    ¡°Is it true that Nameless X and the Mad Dog Steiner are dead?¡±

    Instead of answering, Ricardt slightly drew Steiner¡¯s sword from its sheath and showed it to him. As the sunlight streamed in through the window, it grazed the de, revealing a faint blue sheen.

    As he slid the sword back into its scabbard, he said,

    ¡°This is the sword Steiner used.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    It was shocking enough that Erze and Reto had been killed, but what came after was even more startling. Dunkel was momentarily lost for words, still struggling to process it.

    The reason he was this serious wasn¡¯t just because Ricardt had aplished something incredible, but also because of another, deeper reason.

    ¡°This can ruin the guild? Why is that?¡±

    When Ricardt asked, Dunkel barely calmed his still pounding heart and said,

    ¡°It¡¯s because of the power vacuum. The Ernburg Five operated in the central northern region. If it was just passing through, it wouldn¡¯t be a big deal, but the Adventurers¡¯ Guild had a branch set up there, and they couldn¡¯t operate freely. But now that they¡¯re gone, what do you think will happen?¡±

    Nameless X didn¡¯t have any specific territory. He simply roamed the Empire, hunting down wanted criminals or seeking revenge.

    On the other hand, the Ernburg Five, including Siegfringer, had a defined area of activity. But now, that area was empty.

    In other words, and without an owner had emerged.

    Of course, there was still the local lord who ruled that area, and various criminal organizations that operated in the shadows, but the Adventurers¡¯ Guild was a unique power that spanned both the visible and hidden sides of society.

    Securing a territory wasn¡¯t just about making more money; it meant gaining ess to the resources and manpower in that region.

    In an era where the ¡®roads¡¯ connecting cities were of paramount importance, having a wide territory meant significantly reducing transportation costs.

    Securing a new area of activity would bring benefits in all aspects. More importantly, those benefits wouldn¡¯t be one-time, but continuous and sustainable.

    ¡°So, the question is who will take control of that area.¡±

    Ricardt immediately grasped the meaning, and Dunkel, with a heavy expression, nodded once more.

    ¡°You probably remember that time when we shed with those Rubens Guild bastards. Incidents like that can be handled and swept under the rug. But this¡­ this is different. We may need to deploy forces¡ªno, we have to. The mobilization order has already been issued. Not just the Guild Master, but all the guild leaders and senior adventurers are gathering.¡±

    It was a warning that a guild war could break out. No, it seemed almost certain.

    It was quite ironic, really. People could die, and it would barely make a ripple, but when it came to matters involving interests and stakes, war was inevitable.

    ¡°That¡¯s why we need to be both cautious and swift. Tell me the location of the site. The guild will confirm the facts and act ordingly. Since we have the information first, we should use the time to our advantage. And obviously, this is top-secret. Don¡¯t talk about it to anyone.¡±

    Ricardt wasn¡¯t the type to go around boasting about what he¡¯d done, so he nodded without hesitation. Still, he felt a weight settling on his heart.

    The Guild Master and the upper ranks of the guild were probably in intense meetings by now, as if their heads were about to burst. Should theyunch a surprise attack on hostile organizations first? Or should they seize control of the central northern region? Perhaps they¡¯d opt for a diversionary tactic, and so on.

    But¡­ is it really that important? Important enough to spill the blood of young people?

    The question lingered in Ricardt¡¯s mind, but asking the Guild Master wouldn¡¯t provide an answer. The Guild Master had his responsibilities as a master, and it would be foolish not to act now.

    Whether intentional or not, what Ricardt had aplished over the winter was causing a major stir.

    The effort he had made to save the academy students from starvation had instead brought about a cold, cutting wind.

    When do the most people die? It¡¯s probably when the bnce of power shifts, and the dynamics of forces change.

    Because that¡¯s when the future is at stake. Will you be forced to live in humiliation, pushed down by strength? Or will you establish your power and secure dominance?

    The fear of disappearing due to ack of strength, and the desire to survive by gaining it. So, the decision of whether to go to war or not wasn¡¯t something that could be swayed by mere words.

    Listening to the current state of affairs, Ricardt felt a keen sense of this reality.

    ¡°Reto and Erze¡¯s bodies should be near Reto¡¯sb in Sidria Swamp. That is, if no one¡¯s touched them since. The others are in the ruined vige of Lindveil. The closest city is Rigenhafen. Head north from there, and you¡¯ll find it. But as for where Nameless is buried, I can¡¯t tell you. That¡¯s a deeply personal matter, so I hope you understand.¡±

    Since the most important task was verifying the deaths of the Ernburg Five, Dunkel nodded without hesitation.

    After all, confirming their deaths was literally just a matter of ¡®verification¡¯. Given that Ricardt had Steiner¡¯s sword and the Phantom Sword in his possession, Dunkel was convinced that the entire Ernburg Five were indeed dead.

    ¡°But, um¡­¡±

    Boribori, who had been quietly listening the whole time, finally spoke up. Given the seriousness of the situation, the atmosphere was heavy, but judging by his expression, Boribori seemed blissfully unaware of it.

    ¡°If all the skilled adventurers are being summoned, does that mean we¡¯ll get to see Volka, Ice, and the others who graduated first?¡±

    At the innocent question, Dunkel, who had been holding his breath, suddenly felt a bit of relief and smiled gently.

    ¡°They won¡¯t be staying in the city for long. Once the higher-ups make their decision, they¡¯ll be deployed to the field. Well, if things ovep, you might get to see them, but if not, then probably not. We have to move quickly. If too many people start mobilizing, the other guilds will definitely sense something¡¯s off.¡±

    ¡°Is there anything I need to do separately?¡±

    Ricardt asked.

    ¡°No. It¡¯s not that we don¡¯t trust you, but right now, you¡¯re a high-profile individual, both inside and outside the guild. For the time being, stay at the academy. You¡¯re practically no longer just a student. Do you understand what that means?¡±

    ¡°I suppose it means I¡¯m walking on the edge of a de.¡±

    Ricardt said, looking out the window. His past life came to mind. A life walking on the edge of the de. It was familiar, but not something he weed. Had anything really changed? He didn¡¯t know.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ so just rest for now. Don¡¯t worry about anything else. And¡­ to be honest, you¡¯re starting to scare me a little.¡±

    It felt like an unnecessary addition to the conversation, but it was also sincere. Ricardt, still gazing out the window, merely smiled faintly in response.

    Dunkel couldn¡¯t quite grasp the meaning of that smile. Had Ricardt really killed a Sword Master at the age of twelve? What would he be like as an adult? Could he grow even further? Was that even possible? Perhaps they were witnessing the birth of a legendary hero right before their eyes.

    Both Dunkel and the guild found themselves deeply troubled by how to deal with Ricardt. He was, after all, far beyond the bounds ofmon sense.

    With that, Dunkel left the room filled with soft, white light.

    As soon as he was gone, Boribori, who seemed ufortable sitting in ce, flopped onto the bed. Hey on his stomach, crossing and uncrossing his legs, and then asked Ricardt.

    ¡°What are you going to do with the deposit fund once you get it?¡±

    ¡°Well, what do you want to do with it?¡±

    ¡°How about buying outfits for all the academy kids?¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll all wear the same clothes. Of course, it¡¯ll be a bit different for the girls, but wouldn¡¯t it be fun?¡±

    Ricardt briefly imagined all the students wearing the same clothes in his mind. Since he didn¡¯t know exactly what they¡¯d be wearing, it was hard to picture clearly.

    However, when it came to things like sewing well or liking flowers, it seemed Boribori had some solid ideas in mind.

    ¡°Sure, let¡¯s do that.¡±

    Ricardt agreed without much thought. Boribori, already finding the idea amusing, grinned widely. Ricardt smiled along with him.

    The room was filled with clear light, but in the distance, the winds of war were approaching. It wasn¡¯t the kind of situation where they couldugh freely, but sometimes a lighthearted decision left a longersting impression.

    Ricardt and Boribori wandered around Beringen with Marie.

    Just as Volka had done before, they showed her the city¡¯syout, dividing it into east, west, north, and south, and pointed out the areas to be cautious of, as well as the locations of important shops.

    They sold the armor and bought clothes and other items needed for academy life. When selling the surcoat, the fabric merchant looked puzzled, but it fetched a decent price for a second-hand item.

    They could have bought a sword too, but for the time being, Marie had decided to hold on to Steiner¡¯s sword.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give it to you if youe in first ce. Until then, it¡¯s just on loan.¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re basically telling me to beat you, Ricky?¡±

    ¡°Well, I guess that¡¯s what ites down to. Anyway.¡±

    ¡°By the way, this seems like a really good sword. I know a little about these things.¡±

    ¡°Sometimes, a sword being too good is a problem. There¡¯s no ce suitable to sell it.¡±

    Honestly, it was a bit of a hassle. Going to arge city, putting it up for auction¡ªthat whole process.

    He briefly considered selling it through the guild, but given the current situation, the guild didn¡¯t seem to have the capacity to handle that kind of thing.

    ¡°Thanks. Can I name it?¡±

    ¡°A name? For what?¡±

    ¡°For the sword.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s something only girls do.¡±

    ¡°¡­Huh?¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡±

    Ricardt suddenly realized he had misspoken. Marie was a girl.

    ¡°Sorry.¡±

    But Marie didn¡¯t seem to mind at all, instead breaking into a yful smile.

    ¡°Well, since I¡¯m a girl, I guess it¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll name it Ricky. The great sword, Ricky.¡±

    ¡°Haha¡­¡±

    Ricardt could only chuckle awkwardly, feeling a bit guilty.

    ¡°What? Me too, me too! I want to name mine too!¡±

    Just as Ricardt was feeling embarrassed, Boribori excitedly jumped in.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t it already have a name? It¡¯s called the Phantom Sword.¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t like that. It¡¯s not my style. What should I call it? Hmm¡­ The Nameless Sword. Yeah, that¡¯s perfect. A sword with no name is its name.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    Ricardt, knowing the story behind it, couldn¡¯t bring himself to make light of the situation and found himself at a loss for words.

    But Boribori wasn¡¯t upset or gloomy, just excited. As if to keep the lively mood going, Boribori turned to Ricardt and said,

    ¡°You should name yours too, Ricky.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d rather not. It¡¯s fine.¡±

    ¡°They say you should treat a sword like your best friend, or like your most beloved lover. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to give it a name, right?¡±

    Marie chimed in, supporting Boribori¡¯s idea. Who knew where she picked up such thoughts, but Marie did have a slightly old-fashioned way of thinking at times.

    ¡°No. There¡¯s no need to indulge in such sentimentality. A sword is just a sword.¡±

    ¡°Ricky, sometimes you talk like an old man.¡±

    ¡°Do I?¡±

    Ricardt¡¯s eyes widened at Marie¡¯s blunt criticism. Boribori found it hrious and burst intoughter, agreeing with her.

    The three of them seemed to have be close already in just a few days, perhaps because they had shared hardships sleeping outside together. Of course, it helped that they all clicked well, but one way or another, the three of them had be fast friends.

    The conversation flowed without pause, and there was no hesitation in teasing one another. And whoever was on the receiving end always took it with a smile.

    When Marie was picking out clothes, Boribori took charge, rmending an outfit simr to riding gear for dueling. It seemed he was already thinking ahead, nning to use the experience when theyter bought clothes for all the academy students.

    Marie, being tall, made an excellent model. When she wore slightly fitted clothes, her well-trained physique became evident¡ªher strong thighs, slim ankles, and straight posture suggested she could swing a powerful sword.

    It¡¯s not always the case, but you could roughly gauge someone¡¯s skill just by looking at their usual posture. That¡¯s how Ricardt felt.

    They bought several outfits: battle gear, training clothes, and casual wear. Since they had sold the armor, they had plenty of money to afford it, so it wasn¡¯t an over-the-top purchase.

    The three of them had fresh chicken soup and bread at the guild building before heading back to the academy.

    On their way, they passed through the open fields. The vast, dew-kissed ins spread out beautifully before them. Scattered here and there were flowers that Boribori liked.

    Violets, daffodils, and star bellflowers¡­ Wait, violets I can understand, but how do I know all these flowers? Ricardt thought to himself.

    By the time they arrived at the academy after walking for six hours, it was early evening. Though the air was cold, therge moonflowers blooming on the distant fields gave off a gentle feeling.

    They ascended the long cliff stairs, with the stars above their heads, passed through the castle gates, and finally arrived at the academy.

    Ricardt pointed to a building in the courtyard and said to Marie,

    ¡°That¡¯s the girls¡¯ dormitory. The boys¡¯ dorm is over there. Since it¡¯s nighttime, no one¡¯s here to greet you. Soon enough, the kids on night watch will show up. Anyway, let¡¯s catch up tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, thanks.¡±

    ¡°No need for thanks. If you have any troubles, just let me know anytime.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡±

    With a subtle smile, Ricardt headed into the inner castle with Boribori. But something felt off, a strange atmosphere hanging in the air.

    As they walked through the hallways, a student passing by suddenly saw Ricardt and shouted in surprise.

    ¡°Ricky!¡±

    ¡°Long time no see. Have you been well?¡±

    Ricardt replied casually, but upon hearing the name ¡®Ricky¡¯, a crowd of kids suddenly poured out from the dorms. They rushed toward Ricardt, almost piling on top of him.

    ¡°Ricky!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s going on with you guys?¡±

    ¡°I thought you were dead.¡±

    ¡°Not me. I knew you¡¯d survive, Ricky.¡±

    ¡°Thanks to you, not many of the kids died.¡±

    ¡°What on earth have you been up to?¡±

    Ricardt was a bit taken aback by how familiar everyone was acting with him. Had he really been this close with the other students?

    However, he didn¡¯t mind. It was a relief to see everyone was alright. In a way, it felt like he had achieved his goal. His awkward, sheepish smile was mixed with a sense of pride.

    But with everyone talking at once, he had no idea how to respond.

    Plus, with all the kids crowding around him, it was hard to make his way back to his room.

    When Ricardt finally reached his room, he saw something strange. Each room was supposed to house 20 students, but only about 10 people were inside.

    Moreover, the bunk beds had their upper halves removed, leaving only 10 beds.

    The ten students inside turned to look at Ricardt. The group surrounding him also suddenly fell silent and backed away, sensing something was off.

    Ricardt silently observed the ten students, then removed the sword from his shoulder and handed it to one of the nearby students before stepping into the room.

    ¡°Where¡¯s my bed? And who are you guys?¡±

    ¡°Are you Ricky?¡±

    One student responded. He was well-dressed, looking much cleaner than the average student, and his clothes appeared more expensive.

    ¡°And who are you?¡±

    Ricardt asked. The student curled his lips into a smirk and said,

    ¡°I am Karllich, the fourth son of the prestigious Rosten family. Nice to meet you, but we¡¯d like some peace and quiet right now. Would you mind leaving?¡±

    A noble. So the nobles had arrived and it seemed they had enrolled while Ricardt was away.

    Ricardt simply stared at Karllich with a nk expression, that seemed to say, ¡°So what?¡± Then, he spoke.

    ¡°Have you gone through the initiation?¡±

    ¡°Pfft, we don¡¯t want to participate in such a vulgar event.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate. It¡¯s not for you to decide whether to participate or not.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    As Karllich frowned in confusion, his vision shed.

    p!

    With a powerful p to the face, Karllich was sent sprawling to the side. The students who had been lounging or half-reclining on their beds immediately jumped up, while those leaning against the walls straightened in rm.

    All the students watching from outside the room gasped in unison. Hitting a noble? That was a serious crime.

    But Ricardt¡¯s initiation wasn¡¯t over yet.

    ¡°We¡¯re not done.¡±

    He grabbed Karllich by the hair and pped him across the face again, once on each side.

    ¡°You¡­ you¡­ wait a second!¡±

    Smack! p!

    After taking two more ps, Karllich¡¯s eyes zed over as he teetered on the edge of consciousness. A mixture of saliva and blood dripped from his split mouth. Ricardt kicked him and then stomped on him.

    Thud! Thud! Thump!

    ¡°Weak bastard. Who¡¯s next? Anyone here who hasn¡¯t gone through initiation yet?¡±

    Ricardt nced at the remaining noble students as he asked.

    ¡°You, you, you¡­¡±

    The other noble students were so shocked that they stuttered. Ricardt approached the nearest one and delivered a strong low kick.

    Thud!

    ¡°Aaagh!¡±

    That student sat down abruptly, mouth wide open from just one hit. And the beating continued for him as well.

    Thud! Thud! Thud!

    ¡°You bastard!¡±

    Someone yelled, and several of them rushed at Ricardt all at once. But all it did was shorten the time for their initiation. Ricardt, like a rampaging tiger, thrashed them all.

    Thwack! Crunch! Wham! Thud! Smack!

    The sound of students being beaten echoed through the quiet inner fortress. The regr students watched in stunned silence, holding their breath.

    Finally, Karllich, who had regained some semnce of consciousness, spoke with his swollen cheeks.

    ¡°Y-you scum. Do you know who my father is? How dare you treat a noble like¡ª¡±

    Before he could finish, Ricardt silently kicked him again as he was trying to stand.

    Thud!

    ¡°Ugh!¡±

    Ricardt then grabbed him by the hair and dragged him outside. He opened the gate of the inner fortress and threw Karllich out. As the pitiful nobley sprawled on the ground, Ricardt pointed at him and said,

    ¡°Make sure you bring your father. Until then, you¡¯re noting back in here.¡±

    ¡°W-wait, hold on, wait a second¡ª¡±

    Bam!

    Ricardt mmed the gate of the inner fortress shut without a second thought.

    Beaten to a pulp and left outside in the cold, Karllich felt his life was in danger from the freezing weather. Forgetting all about his noble status, he began banging on the door and begging.

    ¡°H-Hey! Just wait a minute! Please!¡±

    Bang. Bang. Bang.

    But there was no answer from inside.

    Ricardt returned to the room and addressed the remaining noble students.

    ¡°Since you¡¯re the ones who tore apart the beds, until you fix them¡ªwhether you do it yourselves or pay for it¡ªyou¡¯ll be sleeping on the floor. Anyone have a problem with that?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    The students lying on the floor groaning in pain couldn¡¯t voice a singleint. If they even opened their mouths, they knew they¡¯d end up just like Karllich.

    In the face of overwhelming violence, status meant nothing. In that moment, everyone was equal.

    *****

 Chapter 46

    Chapter 46

    Trantor: Willia

    Thud. Thud¡­¡­

    There wasn¡¯t a singlentern or candle lit, and within the pitch-ck building, the cautious sound of someone carefully stepping could be heard.

    The silence was as thick as the darkness, amplifying every sound even more.

    Marie nced down both corridors. All she saw was deep, pitch-ck darkness. There wasn¡¯t even a person to guide her, let alone any people at all.

    However, faint breathing sounds were definitelying from somewhere. She walked towards that sound.

    Thud. Thud¡­¡­

    When she arrived at a door, she could hear breathing from the other side. It wasn¡¯t just one person, but the sounds of multiple people sleeping. But should she open the door? Should she knock?

    Marie didn¡¯t have the courage to break the thick, ice-like silence. So, all she could do was just stand there.

    Leaning against the wall, she set her luggage down and lowered her head. For the first time, the thought that this was difficult started to creep in.

    How much time had passed? From another room, someone in pajamas opened the door and stepped out. On the te they held in their hand, a single candle flickered faintly.

    Marie quickly raised her head and looked at them.

    ¡°Oh? Um¡­¡­¡±

    It was the first time she had seen someone since arriving at the girls¡¯ dormitory, and she wanted to ask for help, but the girl holding the candle simply nced at Marie, then walked off somewhere. Huh?

    Marie blinked in disbelief. Shortly after, she heard the sound of water trickling, seemingly from a bathroom, and the girl in pajamas returned.

    This time, she didn¡¯t even give Marie a nce. There wasn¡¯t even the slightest bit of curiosity toward a new face or anything of the sort.

    Click.

    The door closed again, and the quietness descended once more. Marie could clearly feel it now¡ªthis ce did not wee her. A sense of helplessness weighed heavily on her chest.

    And so, she spent the night in the hallway.

    Time passed, and morning arrived. Marie, half-asleep, was leaning against the wall when suddenly, the door in front of her swung open.

    Girls wearing stained aprons came rushing out, and from other rooms as well, they all poured out almost simultaneously. Startled, Marie quickly stood up. Her legs were stiff.

    But the girls in aprons only nced at her briefly and said nothing. They were busy fetching water, gatheringundry, sweeping and scrubbing the floors,pletely absorbed in menial tasks. They looked just like maids.

    Creak, creak, the sound of pumping. Swoosh, swoosh, the sound ofundry being washed. The crackling of fire being lit and the bubbling of water being boiled. The hurried footsteps of people walking around.

    The oppressive silence of the previous night now seemed like a lie as the sounds of life filled the girls¡¯ dormitory. Yet Marie waspletely isted in the midst of it all.

    She just stood in the middle of the hallway, helplessly watching the girls busily go about their tasks. Even when she tried to speak, they passed by, ignoring her as if they hadn¡¯t heard a thing.

    It wasn¡¯t until around mid-morning that the bustling noise began to die down, and some students, still drowsy, began to stir and get out of bed.

    One girl stretched deeply, scratched her belly absentmindedly, and stepped out of her room, still half-asleep.

    When she saw Marie, she said,

    ¡°First time here? There¡¯s probably an empty spot in that room over there.¡±

    Then, yawning widely, she dragged her feet in her half-worn shoes and headed to the bathroom.

    Marie instinctively knew. Only after receiving that girl¡¯s casual permission could she finally enter a room.

    Though invisible to the eye, it was clear that the students here were not equal. There was a distinct hierarchy within this ce, different from the outside world.

    Marie, exhausted, dragged her body to the room the girl had pointed out. Inside, four students were still sleeping, and the other beds were neatly made without a wrinkle.

    Next to each bed was a small chest of drawers for personal belongings, and one bed, with no items on it, caught her eye. That seemed to be the empty spot.

    Marie unpacked her things, organized her clothes into the drawers, and propped up her sword, Ricky, against the wall.

    Outside the window, she could see the academy courtyard. Boys, shirtless, were washing themselves by the well.

    Now, there¡¯s a pump water system, so there¡¯s no need to wash in the courtyard, but the students who didn¡¯t want to wait in line went outside to wash.

    Marie cautiously sat on the bed and looked around the room. Around that time, the maid-like students, who had been busy since the early morning, came in carrying trays.

    On the trays were freshly picked raspberries, plums, roasted sweet potatoes, cheese, and ham. They quietly brought them to the students who were still sleeping and gently woke them up.

    ¡°Leah, Leah. I brought breakfast.¡±

    ¡°Kaylee, I brought your meal.¡±

    ¡°Mm¡­ Thanks.¡±

    The girls sluggishly sat up, but the girl named Kaylee didn¡¯t wake up at all. Even though she could have shaken her awake, the student didn¡¯t touch her and continued to softly call her.

    ¡°Kaylee, I brought breakfast. Kaylee.¡±

    Marie couldn¡¯t understand what was going on. Back at home, even her nanny would yank the nket off when waking her up.

    It seemed like waking up Kaylee was a real chore, as she showed no signs of getting up. Then¡ª

    ¡°Kaylee. Kaylee. Kayl¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ah! Fuck! I got it!¡±

    Kaylee threw off her nket irritably, and the other girls flinched in surprise.

    ¡°Hey, do you think I¡¯m deaf or something? You should know when to stop. Why are you pestering me like a damn mosquito?!¡±

    ¡°¡­Sorry¡­¡±

    Surprisingly, it was the maid-like student who apologized, and she quietly ced the tray on the bedside table.

    ¡°Girl, you really need to control that temper. What did she even do wrong?¡±

    ¡°Ugh, that fucking bitch kept annoying me.¡±

    ¡°Sigh¡­ Tsk, tsk, tsk.¡±

    One of the girls who had woken upte clicked her tongue and shook her head. It seemed like this wasn¡¯t the first time¡ªit looked like they had half given up on her.

    Marie watched the entire scene unfold, and as the girls who were eating in bed nced at her, they also looked at the sword propped against the wall. Their eyes scanned her up and down, as if assessing her.

    It was clear to anyone that she was new here, but even then, none of them bothered to say a word to her.

    After finishing their meal, the girls leisurely got out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash.

    The maid-like students had already prepared warm water for them, and after washing, the girls returned to their rooms, dressed, and started grooming themselves in front of the bronze mirrors.

    Their chatter was filled mostly with talk about the city and the boys. Who liked who, who confessed and got rejected, which guy wasn¡¯t really all that great¡ªthose kinds of conversations.

    Around noon, they had another meal, and only after that, in the afternoon, did they finally head outside. The leftover food they didn¡¯t finish was eaten by the maid students, who then cleaned up.

    Marie was tired and hungry, but with the sun still up, she couldn¡¯t sleep yet. So, she got up and went outside.

    As she wandered around the academy, she noticed a group of maid-like students gathered in the back garden of the girls¡¯ dormitory.

    To her surprise, Boribori was at the center of the group, fiddling with something in his hands.

    ¡°If you do it like this, yeah, just like this, and tie it here¡­¡±

    He seemed to be teaching them how to weave something using nt stems. The other girls were watching curiously, chatting among themselves as they did.

    ¡°Bori.¡±

    Marie called out to him. At that, all the students turned to look at her, and then, as if they¡¯d seen something they shouldn¡¯t have, they scrambled away in a hurry.

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh? Marie. Did you sleep well? How are you settling in?¡±

    ¡°Uh, well¡­ I¡¯m not really sure yet. But Bori, what are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°Me? When I¡¯m not with Ricky, I usually hang out with the girls. People always say I¡¯m like a girl anyway. Plus, I¡¯ve identally broken a few bones during sparring because I didn¡¯t control my strength well.¡±

    ¡°Just because you like flowers and nts doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re like a girl. You just like what you like.¡±

    ¡°Is that so? Well, it doesn¡¯t really matter anymore anyway.¡±

    Boribori just gave a bright, innocent smile. Seeing Boribori¡¯s smiling face, Marie felt her gloomy mood lift a little.

    ¡°What about Ricky?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s keeping the others in line.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. He said something about needing to discipline the students. I¡¯m not really good with that stuff.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right. He¡¯s the 1st rank¡­¡±

    ¡°Being the 1st rank doesn¡¯t mean you have to do that kind of thing, but with Volka gone, I guess Ricky¡¯s stepping up. And since he¡¯s a noble, it¡¯s probably better for Ricky to be the one doing it. One guy almost died yesterday, but he barely survived.¡±

    Marie remembered hearing about Volka from Ricardt and Boribori during their journey here, so she somewhat understood the situation.

    But why would it be better for Ricky to be the one doing the hitting just because he¡¯s a noble? That part didn¡¯t make sense to her.

    ¡°It¡¯s better if Ricky does the hitting?¡±

    ¡°Huh? Ah, well, there¡¯s¡­ there¡¯s a reason for that.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re as bad at lying as I am. Alright. I won¡¯t ask anymore.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. But have you eaten?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s go get some food.¡±

    Boribori stood up, brushing off his clothes, and led Marie somewhere. In his hands, he held a bundle of flowers, almost as if someone had gifted them to him.

    ¡°Wait here for a bit. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    Boribori left Marie waiting outside and quickly slipped into the inner building. Marie cautiously peeked inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ricky.

    However, she quickly turned her head away because of all the boys passing through the inner courtyard. Not a single one of the boys failed to nce at Marie.

    At that moment, a voice snapped her out of her drowsy state from the poor sleep she had gotten the night before.

    ¡°Marie?¡±

    Startled, Marie turned around. It was Ricardt, walking down the hallway.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I was waiting for Bori. We¡¯re going to eat together.¡±

    ¡°Is that so? I was just about to grab a meal too. Come on, let¡¯s go together.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­Is it okay for me to go in?¡±

    ¡°What does it matter? We have sses in this building too. Come on,e in.¡±

    Ricardt spoke casually, but just as boys couldn¡¯t freely enter the girls¡¯ dormitory, it was an unspoken rule that girls couldn¡¯t enter the inner building outside of ss hours.

    Of course, if Ricardt brought her along, there wasn¡¯t much she couldn¡¯t do.

    However, there were eyes on Marie from the windows of the girls¡¯ dormitory. Unfortunately for them, they couldn¡¯t see Ricardt inside the inner building.

    At that moment, Boribori returned, carrying an armful of food, and the three of them headed into the inner building together.

    As soon as Marie stepped inside, she heard the loud cries of the boys in the unarmedbat training room.

    ¡°Pankration! Pankration!¡±

    ¡°Kill him!¡±

    ¡°Rip his head off!¡±

    ¡°Good one!¡±

    Marie¡¯s eyes widened in shock, wondering what on earth was going on. But Ricardt and Boribori nonchntly climbed to the second floor and entered an empty ssroom.

    They settled near the window and started their meal. From there, they had a clear view of the vast fields below the cliff where the academy was perched. The building, which had once served as a fortress, offered a wide, open view.

    A cool breeze blew in through the window, though it wasn¡¯t too harsh.

    ¡°Are you settling in alright?¡±

    Ricardt asked Marie.

    ¡°Hm? Oh, well, I¡¯m still getting used to it, little by little.¡±

    In truth, Marie felt a strange and ufortable vibe inside the girls¡¯ dormitory, but she didn¡¯t feel the need to mention it. She didn¡¯t want to sound like she was tattling.

    And besides, she felt at ease when she was with Ricardt and Boribori. There was something odd about them¡ªmature, a bit unsettling, yet pure at the same time.

    More than anything, they didn¡¯t seem to hold any prejudices, which Marie liked. They asionally said awkward things, but there was no malice behind it.

    ¡°The sses will probably start when more new students arrive. How about going to the city tomorrow? There¡¯s someone I¡¯d like you to meet. His name¡¯s Molty, he used to be a student here, but now he works as a cksmith¡¯s apprentice. He¡¯s married too.¡±

    ¡°Really? Sure, let¡¯s do that.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t all that unusual for someone to marry at 17 or 18, so Marie wasn¡¯t particrly surprised.

    In any case, Marie spent the afternoon lightly chatting with Ricardt and Boribori, exchanging various small talks. Byte afternoon, she left the inner building and returned to the dormitory.

    However, when she returned to her room, she found some girls rummaging through her drawers. They were even pulling out her sword from its scabbard and inspecting it without permission. It was the same girls who had woken upte that morning.

    It was an utterly absurd and shocking scene. Marie was so taken aback that she couldn¡¯t even get angry.

    ¡°Excuse me¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh? You¡¯re back? Hey, you¡¯ve got some pretty nice clothes, huh?¡±

    ¡°This sword looks pretty high-quality too. Did you sell your body to get it?¡±

    At the tantly rudement, Marie¡¯s brows furrowed. But instead of reacting to their provocations, she calmly and firmly said,

    ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry, but I¡¯d appreciate it if you didn¡¯t touch my things without permission.¡±

    The girls scoffed at her.

    ¡°Are you unting your money because you sold your body? We were just looking at your nice clothes.¡±

    ¡°Does it wear out if we touch it? Wears out, does it? What, are you saying we¡¯re dirty?¡±

    ¡°Did you seduce Boribori because he¡¯s a bit of a fool?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve got our pride too, you know. This is an academy, not a brothel. Got it?¡±

    Their sharp tonguesshed out like knives, stabbing at Marie with baseless usations. She was at a loss for where to even start refuting their words. It was chaos in her mind.

    Marie¡¯s heart pounded from the experience of facing something like this for the first time in her life. Still, she forced herself to stay calm, though her voice trembled slightly as she spoke.

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant. I¡¯m asking you not to touch my belongings, especially the sword. It¡¯s dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Dirty? We wouldn¡¯t touch it because it¡¯s filthy.¡±

    The girls threw her clothes onto the floor without care. The drawers were left open, with the contents inside all jumbled up. On top of that, they roughly tossed her sword onto the floor.

    ng!

    Then, they bumped into Marie¡¯s shoulder as they returned to their spots, sitting or lying down on the same bed, chatting away.

    Marie stood quietly, head lowered, staring at her belongings scattered on the floor. Suddenly, Ricky¡¯s words shed through her mind. You have to set your own principles.

    Yeah, I need to set some principles. Let¡¯s give them a chance. Everyone makes mistakes.

    Marie, still hearing the girls whispering and mocking her behind her, turned around and spoke.

    ¡°Apologize.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Is she crazy or something?¡±

    At that moment, the girl with the worst temper, Kaylee, put on a stern expression and said,

    ¡°Hey.¡±

    She got up from her seat and approached Marie. The other girls giggled.

    ¡°Care to say that again?¡±

    ¡°Apologize. For touching my things without permission and for saying those awful things about my friend. Apologize.¡±

    Smack!

    Before Marie could finish her sentence, Kaylee pped her hard across the face, snapping her head to the side.

    But Marie didn¡¯t cry, nor was she shocked. She slowly turned her head back, her left cheek flushed red.

    However, her eyes weren¡¯t the usual gentle ones. They were sharp, like the gaze of a hawk or an eagle.

    In a low, steady voice, Marie spoke again.

    ¡°Apologize.¡±

    Kaylee, with a cruel smile, raised her hand to p Marie again. Or at least, she tried to. Before she could, her vision shed, and she was suddenly sprawled on the ground.

    Thud!

    Marie had struck first. Her hand moved so fast, and it was charged with enough mana that Kaylee couldn¡¯t get back up and was left twitching on the floor.

    The giggling in the room came to an abrupt stop, and the room fell into dead silence. Even the students watching from the hallway outside covered their mouths in shock.

    Marie then approached the remaining girls.

    ¡°Uh¡­ uh¡­¡±

    ¡°I believe I gave you plenty of chances.¡±

    Then, with her hand fully drawn back, she swung again, delivering a full-force p. The impact was so hard that it seemed like it almost tore the girl¡¯s cheek apart.

    p!

    They couldn¡¯t even scream. The remaining students trembled in fear at the swift turn of events. But Marie didn¡¯t spare a single one, pping each one hard across the face. They all fell to the floor with just one hit.

    However, it didn¡¯t end there. Marie slowly lifted her booted foot and stomped down hard on one of the dressers.

    Crash!

    With a kick infused with mana, the dresser broke instantly, and the clothes and items inside were crumpled and scattered all over the floor.

    Step. Step. Step¡­

    Marie strutted confidently, destroying the other dressers as well, one by one.

    Bang! Crack! Boom!

    Each time something broke, the students watching outside flinched. After demolishing all the dressers, Marie turned around and spoke in a voice as cold as ice.

    ¡°While I¡¯m out for a bit, you will personally reorganize my things. If you don¡¯t, I¡¯ll rip out your tongues and cut off your wrists. This is yourst chance.¡±

    It was good that she was establishing her principles, but Marie wondered if she might have gone a little too far. Then again, sometimes personal principles be thew of thend¡ªif one has enough power to enforce them.

    Without looking back, Marie walked out, her footsteps echoing, and the students watching outside scrambled to clear a path for her.

    Up until the day before, no one had paid Marie any attention. Now, the opposite was true. Every single girl watched her, but this time, Marie didn¡¯t bother looking at them.

    There was no trace of pretense about Marie; she exuded real noble grace, charisma, and authority. The students found themselves captivated by it, even if they didn¡¯t fully realize why.

    When Marie returned after taking a break outside to cool her head, her belongings had been neatly restored to their original order.

    Without her needing to give further instructions, the girls who were part of the so-called dy¡¯ ss in the room had moved out, almost as if they had been expelled due to the shift in power.

    Though a storm had swept through the dormitory, Marie was calm. She paid no mind to the atmosphere in the dorm and simply fell asleep.

    However, the next morning, someone outside called for her.

    ¡°Marie! Marieee!¡±

    It was the time when the maid students were just waking up, but the voice was from a male student.

    It was rare for a boy to openly shout at the girls¡¯ dormitory, especially calling someone by name. It took a lot of courage and, if done wrong, coulde off as terribly awkward or inappropriate.

    But when the girls looked outside, they were shocked. It was Ricardt.

    He was the overwhelmingly top-ranked student at the academy, a genius swordsman, the leader of Beringen Academy¡¯s legendary group of nine, and a figure of awe and admiration. And that boy was cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting.

    ¡°Don¡¯t eat breakfast! Come out! Let¡¯s eat in the city!¡±

    Marie, smiling brightly, leaned out the window and shouted back.

    ¡°Hey! Wait just a minute! I¡¯ll be right out!¡±

    Marie quickly washed up, tidied her hair, dressed simply, and headed out of the dormitory. Every step she took was followed by the astonished stares of the other girls.

    Ricardt, waiting outside with Boribori, widened his eyes when he saw Marie¡¯s reddened left cheek.

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. Really.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? What happened?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ I guess you could call it ¡®disciplining¡¯? Like you, Ricky?¡±

    ¡°¡­Huh.¡±

    Ricardt didn¡¯t know much about the day-to-day life of the girls, so he just epted it without further thought.

    The three of them set off early in the morning, descending the cliffside stairs and walking toward the city. As they went, the sun rose, lighting up the fields in a radiant glow. It was spring.

    Chapter 9 ¨C Enforcing Discipline. The End.

    *****

 Chapter 47

    Chapter 47

    Trantor: Willia

    As winter passed and spring reached its peak, it meant that the time of being curled up had passed and a good time to work hade. However, a good time to work was also a good time to fight.

    It was unclear whether a full-fledged guild war had broken out. There might have been skirmishes happening, or perhaps they were still just watching each other warily. Being isted from the world, the academy couldn¡¯t ess much news about the outside world.

    But perhaps because it was so isted from the world, it could provide a final refuge for the forsaken children.

    ¡°Wee to the academy! Newbie!¡±

    Inside the boys¡¯ dormitory, Karllich shouted loudly. Anyone could hear the excitement in his cry.

    He then threw a nket over the new freshman and, along with the other students, gave him a real hearty beating.

    After they had beaten him enough, they removed the nket and forcefully pulled the freshman to his feet by grabbing his arm. The freshman, with his spirit half-broken and a pained expression on his face from the beating, looked miserable.

    ¡°With this, you are now a proud member of Beringen Academy! Come on, everyone, let¡¯s give him a round of apuse!¡±

    p p p p p!

    Karllich, as if presenting a tournament winner, lifted the freshman¡¯s arm high in the air in front of all the students. Then, with a look that seemed to say, I did good, right?, he nced at Ricardt.

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    Ricardt, watching from the top bunk, found himself at a loss for words as he looked at what Karllich was doing.

    Because unlike their first encounter, Karllich was now more enthusiastic about academy life than anyone else.

    In reality, the situation wasn¡¯t that different; noble children, who were far from session, weren¡¯t much better off than bastards.

    What family in their right mind would send their heir to the academy? Coming to the Adventurer Training Academy was, to put it bluntly, being cast aside, or to put it kindly, being given onest chance to carve out their own path.

    In the past, people were reluctant to be adventurers due to the negative perception, but now, that perception had somewhat softened.

    This was because even nobles hade to realize, through various experiences, that adventurers were quite useful when it came to handling requests through the guild.

    Whether they died in the knight order or as a mercenary, or perished while being an adventurer, it didn¡¯t seem to make much of a difference to them.

    And there was also the fact that, depending on their position, they might rise up and even be helpful to their family. Actually, adventurers could often provide more practical help.

    In a knight order, themand of the Knight Commander took precedence, and mercenary groups were too expensive; thus, bing an adventurer was a more versatile option.

    ¡°You can stay here. Stop whining. Are these all the clothes you have? Do you have enough to eat? If you¡¯re hungry, just let me know anytime. For now, if you need help with chores, ask that guy over there. And for city jobs, talk to me. sses require money, you know? I could lend it to you, but to do that, you¡¯d have to find a job in the city first¡­¡±

    Karllich guided the freshman to an empty spot while exining all sorts of things.

    It wasn¡¯t necessarily a problem, but if there was an issue, it was that Karllich was excessively enthusiastic.

    On the first day, rather thaning to his senses after being thoroughly beaten by Ricardt, he seemed to realize, Oh, so there are rules here, and adjusted his behavior ordingly.

    He adapted extremely quickly, was sharp, and full of enthusiasm. To the point where it was overwhelming to see him put in so much effort.

    And while Karllich was indeed a noble, he wasn¡¯t a traditional noble. What that meant was that he came from a merchant noble background.

    A traditional noble was one who, along with a title, owned even a small piece ofnd and fulfilled the duties of a knight.

    A merchant noble, on the other hand, only had their family business without a title. They might have private property, but it was not the same as a title-associated estate.

    For that reason, traditional nobles often didn¡¯t even regard merchant nobles as fellow nobles.

    For example, if a merchant noble appeared on the battlefield fully armed, there were cases where traditional nobles would refuse to fight, saying they couldn¡¯t stand to fight alongside such people.

    However, even traditional nobles could sometimes live in poverty in rural areas, while merchant nobles could be so wealthy that they lived in grand mansions in the city.

    In reality, even though the times valued family lineage, bloodline, and honor, no matter how much wealth they possessed, city nobles had no choice but to yield before traditional nobles.

    When attending an official event held by a ruler, even the seating arrangements would differ right from the start.

    Of course, this led to mutual disdain beneath the surface. Remarks like, ¡°Who does that country bumpkin think he is, relying solely on his bloodline?¡± or ¡°How can a merchant even call himself a noble?¡± weremon.

    ¡°Ricky, Ricky.¡±

    Karllich approached Ricardt with a piece of paper in his hand.

    ¡°¡­¡­What?¡±

    ¡°You said you were going to buy clothes for the everyone, right? I went ahead and took their measurements. I¡¯ve organized everything here.¡±

    When Ricardt looked at the paper, he saw that it was filled with the names of students from the academy, along with details about their heights, arm lengths, leg lengths, waist sizes, and other measurements.

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    In an academy that usually operated haphazardly, this kind of, well, organized summary was something he was seeing for the first time.

    ¡°I think a deep blue color would be best. Other colors are often extracted from nts, which can be difficult to obtain depending on the season. Lapiszuli is expensive, but since there¡¯s a mining area nearby, we can get it cheaper than elsewhere. Based on my calctions, the budget fits perfectly. If we¡¯re going to make these clothes, we should make them look stylish to boost the pride of our Beringen Academy, don¡¯t you think? If you let me handle it, I¡¯ll take care of everything. I promise you won¡¯t be disappointed.¡±

    Karllich, with a gleam in his eyes, looked at Ricardt with an expression full of anticipation. Ricardt, staring into those clear eyes, saw a hint of madness and felt a kind of fear he had never experienced before.

    ¡°Uh, um¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°Great!¡±

    Karllich clenched his fist in triumph.

    ¡°But seriously, why are you putting in so much effort? Are you worried I might say something?¡±

    In response to Ricardt¡¯s question, Karllich, still with that gleam in his eyes, gave a wide grin. That smile somehow made him even scarier.

    ¡°No one interferes here. There¡¯s no scolding from my father, no disdain from my siblings. For the first time, I feel like I¡¯m bing a useful person. Honestly, it¡¯s better not to have a status at all. I¡¯m sick and tired of this traditional noble versus merchant noble nonsense, where everyone is just like a sibling. And I found this use when I was looking up thews of the Empire: ¡®In the name of Emperor Martellus, under the protection of the Empire, the academy shall follow its ownws, rules, and traditions.¡¯ So, doesn¡¯t that mean we can create our ownws, rules, and traditions? Isn¡¯t that exciting?¡±

    This was news to Ricardt. He hadn¡¯t known there was such a use in the Empire¡¯sws. In reality, most regions followed their own customaryws, and the statutoryw of the Empire was often just a formality.

    If the Emperor were to impose Imperialw forcefully, it could provoke bacsh from the local nobles, making strict enforcement difficult. Even the Emperor rarely invoked Imperialw casually.

    To be honest, the Emperor himself wasn¡¯t that familiar with thews and would only ask his legal advisor when necessary.

    Still, there were a few key provisions that everyone followed: titles andnds were inherited by male heirs first, local lords retained their jurisdictional rights, judicial powers, and military authority, but could not negotiate with foreign nations outside the Empire, and that punishments and judgments should be fair in the sight of the gods.

    Ricardt had only learned the basics of reading, writing, and simple arithmetic from his family; he hadn¡¯t been taught any higher knowledge, so all of this was fascinating to him.

    Karllich¡¯s eyes sparkled with determination, revealing his own goals. Of course, there was a bit of madness mixed in too.

    Watching him, Ricardt couldn¡¯t help but think that nobles who had received proper education were indeed different.

    Still, being around Karllich felt burdensome and ufortable, so Ricardt quietly slipped away.

    He left the room and headed to the second floor, nning to study ancient texts in an empty ssroom. But Boribori was already there, reading something.

    ¡°Oh? Ricky.¡±

    ¡°What are you reading?¡±

    ¡°Ancient people¡¯s sex life.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­Why are you reading that?¡±

    ¡°There aren¡¯t many ancient texts, and there are even fewer manuscripts, so I can¡¯t afford to be picky. Besides, it¡¯s surprisingly interesting.¡±

    Ricardt didn¡¯t have much to say in response, so he simply sat next to Boribori, propping his chin in his hand, and stared out the window. The blue sky and the wide-open fields stretched before him, reflecting in his hazel eyes. A light breeze blew, gently stirring his golden hair.

    ¡°Are you bored?¡±

    Boribori asked.

    ¡°Hm? No.¡±

    ¡°You seem bored. Want to make a bet with me?¡±

    ¡°What kind of bet?¡±

    ¡°Since I can¡¯t beat you, Ricky, so how about each of us trains someone and then we let thempete against each other? The one whose student wins, wins the bet.¡±

    ¡°No way. None of the kids here even understand what I¡¯m saying.¡±

    Ricardt often taught the students, but more often than not, they couldn¡¯t grasp what he was exining, leaving him frustrated on his own.

    So, except for sparring with the friends who were often called the ¡®Nine¡¯ before graduating, he rarely managed to teach anyone effectively.

    ¡°Then how about writing a book? Maybe someday, someone who understands wille along.¡±

    ¡°A book?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. But to make it more interesting, why don¡¯t you write it in ancient script? It¡¯ll be like studying while you write.¡±

    Ricardt¡¯s ears perked up at the idea. It didn¡¯t seem like a bad way to pass the time.

    Lately, Ricardt had been feeling like the academy was slowly slipping out of his grasp. He hadn¡¯t actively managed it or anything, but the students were making efforts on their own and growing by themselves.

    It was satisfying and heartwarming to watch them develop, but he felt like there was no longer any ce for him to step in.

    What Ricardt had done at the academy was simply to set the stage. He made sure no one was bullied or exploited, ensured that no one starved, and maintained order and discipline.

    So, when the academy started to function well on its own, there was little left for him to do. In the meantime, since he didn¡¯t need to learn swordsmanship orbat techniques himself, he was just idling away his time.

    ¡°I guess it¡¯s okay?¡±

    ¡°Hehe, right?¡±

    Ricardt immediately spread out some paper and brought ink and a pen. But right from the start, he was stuck on one thing.

    ¡°What should I title it?¡±

    ¡°Ricky¡¯s Sword Technique! Usually, you name it after yourself, right?¡±

    ¡°But that sounds some.¡±

    ¡°What? You called mine Boribori Sword Technique!¡±

    ¡°Well, yeah, but putting my name in it seems too clich¨¦. I¡¯ll just call it ¡®The Basics of Swordsmanship¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Eh? That¡¯s so boring.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s better this way. It doesn¡¯t have to be perfect. Those who can understand will understand.¡±

    ¡°Ricky, you¡¯re quite shy, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Ricardt didn¡¯t deny it and just smiled. Then, he wrote the title inrge letters: The Basics of Swordsmanship.

    His handwriting, imbued with his mother¡¯s love, was as elegant and flowing as a willow tree. In contrast, Boribori¡¯s writing was bold and strong.

    Ricardt organized his thoughts and began writing a rough draft. Whenever he encountered something he didn¡¯t know about ancient script, he would ask Boribori or refer to phrases from the book he was reading.

    However, since that book was about the ancient people¡¯s sex life, he sometimes ended up seeing things he wished he hadn¡¯t, causing him to close his eyes tightly in embarrassment.

    Reflecting on his swordsmanship was fun in its own way, but remembering the frustration of trying to teach the kids left him feeling lost on what to write.

    Should he simplify the content? Is it really that difficult? Why is it difficult? What does ¡°difficult¡± even mean? Hmm, he didn¡¯t know.

    Since his motivation for writing was just to reach whoever could understand, Ricardt didn¡¯t overthink it and continued to jot down his thoughts.

    Watching him from the side, Boriborimented.

    ¡°It looks more like you¡¯re writing an essay than exining something.¡±

    ¡°Is that so? Butnguage is never perfect anyway. It can¡¯t be helped. I¡¯m just expressing things as they are. That¡¯s the most urate way.¡±

    ¡°Well, still, wouldn¡¯t it be better to try exining as clearly as possible?¡±

    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you write your own?¡±

    ¡°Alright, I will. I¡¯ll call mine Bori¡¯s Swordsmanship. Hehehe.¡±

    Boribori put down the book he¡¯d been reading and grabbed a nk sheet of paper, starting to write his own version. His handwriting was neat and powerful.

    The writings of the two boys were still rough and unpolished, but the differences between them were already starkly evident.

    Ricardt seemed to be writing an epic poem without any clear structure, while Boribori was carefully building his work step by step, organizing it by chapters.

    After a while, they took a look at each other¡¯s writings, and their thoughts diverged.

    ¡°Hey, why are you wasting paper on this nonsense? This stuff is just too obvious.¡±

    Ricardt said, frowning as he looked at Boribori¡¯s work, clearly displeased.

    Paper wasn¡¯t cheap by any means. Depending on its quality, paper used for books was one of the most expensive items.

    ¡°The reader might be a beginner. They need to start with the basics and understand gradually, moving on to more advanced concepts. If you just say things like ¡®Hesitating will make you too slow¡¯, ¡®Focus on precision rather than speed¡¯, or ¡®A powerful strike is meaningless if you don¡¯t understand the force behind it¡¯, who¡¯s going to understand that?¡±

    As Ricardt thought about it, he realized that Boribori had a point.

    However, the idea of writing out every detailed exnation made him feel reluctant, as it seemed like it would make the content excessively lengthy. Plus, if he went on and on with too many words, wouldn¡¯t it stray away from the essence of what he was trying to convey? Ricardt couldn¡¯t help but feel a bit defiant.

    ¡°¡­¡­That¡¯s why I¡¯m writing it so that only those who get it will understand.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ How about this, then? I¡¯ll create a separate guidebook with exnations, and you can review it and give your feedback. How does that sound?¡±

    ¡°Having a guidebook makes it less cool.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. It¡¯ll still be cool. You really are shy, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Ricardt couldn¡¯t help butugh in disbelief. Then he reached out and tousled Boribori¡¯s sandy-brown bowl-cut hair yfully. Boribori responded with a cheerfulugh, ¡°Hehehe.¡±

    He really seemed to have grown a lot. In a good way. It made Ricardt feel proud.

    Boribori was not only Ricardt¡¯s most cherished friend but also his student, and now, in some ways, even his teacher.

    When you teach and guide someone, and watch their growth, perhaps the truth is that the teacher is also being guided and growing as well without realizing it.

    Spring had reached its peak. It was the perfect season for working, for fighting, and also for strengthening friendships too.

    *****

 Chapter 48

    Chapter 48

    Trantor: Willia

    Between the inner castle and the girls¡¯ dormitory, there was an open space cleared by cutting down a forest. Although not officially designated, it was a ce within the Academy that only the so-called elite students could use.

    Boribori was squatting in that space, near the overgrown grass, gazing at something with a deeply satisfied expression.

    In Boribori¡¯s palm were some pine nuts and beans, which a squirrel was eating. To be precise, the squirrel wasn¡¯t eating but rather storing them in the pouches on both sides of its cheeks.

    Boribori gently stroked the squirrel with just his thumb. Building trust and bonding with an animal, even one that couldn¡¯t understand human words, was an emotional experience.

    However, a sudden metallic sound startled the squirrel, and it darted away in surprise.

    ng!

    Boribori also flinched and turned around. He saw Ricardt and Marie, along with a crowd of students watching the two of them.

    Ricardt had easily intercepted Marie¡¯s practice sword, which was floating in mid-air. Then, holding two swords in his hands, he twirled them yfully as he spoke to Marie, who was clutching her wrist in pain.

    ¡°Do you really have to be number one?¡±

    Over the past month or so, this had already happened over forty times. Evenbining the number of sparring matches with Ice, Volka, and other students, the number of times he¡¯d sparred with Marie was higher.

    In the past, she had brushed it off, but the idea of being first seemed to be something genuinely important to Marie.

    ¡°Ugh¡­ I told you, that¡¯s why I came to the academy.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ Then why don¡¯t you just be the first ce?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want that.¡±

    ¡°How about aiming for first ce after I graduate?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s even worse.¡±

    What exactly was she trying to do? Ricardt had no intention of losing, but deliberately throwing the match would be an even worse offense to Marie, which left him in a dilemma.

    There was something that bothered him, he wanted Marie to learn something from this, but that wasn¡¯t up to Ricardt.

    Marie had a gentle and kind personality, but she also had a firm will and knew how to resist when faced with injustice. Moreover, when it came to swordsmanship, she had a certain pride and determination.

    Ricardt wondered if he should break that pride and make here to her senses.

    ¡°It¡¯s not easy to throw away everything you¡¯ve done so far and start something new, but it¡¯s still better to start, even slowly. You¡¯ll never beat me with just quick and strong attacks. What¡¯s the rush?¡±

    At his words about why she was in such a hurry, Marie bit her lower lip tightly. It seemed like there was some untold story, but Ricardt couldn¡¯t figure it out.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go again.¡±

    Marie said, opening her characteristically fierce eyes.

    Ricardt flicked the practice sword that had originally been Marie¡¯s, tossing it back to her. Marie easily caught it with her uninjured hand.

    Then she got into her stance again, and Ricardt also assumed a proper stance. At that moment, Marie felt as if her heart had stopped.

    Because usually, Ricardt stood awkwardly as if he had no clue about swordsmanship.

    But now, he was clearly different. He spread his legs forward and backward, angled his torso toward his opponent, and raised his sword beside his face.

    Most of all, there was something chilling in his eyes, as if they were imbued with a mysterious power. Meeting his gaze made her feel like she was being pulled in, like her body was freezing.

    And along the lines of Ricardt¡¯s body, there was a fiery energy she could sense.

    Marie bit her lip so hard that it almost drew blood. At the same time, she raised her mana to its limit. Her heart pounded vigorously, sending surging blood through her veins, fueling her strength.

    The mana reached the tips of her fingers, and her sword, as if an extension of her own limbs, began to absorb the mana.

    But mana was a force that had to be handled carefully. It was like rushing water and fierce fire at the same time. If mishandled, it could damage blood vessels and even internal organs.

    For more powerful force, it needed to be handled roughly, but to avoid damaging the body, it needed to be handled carefully. Finding that bnce point was truly difficult.

    That¡¯s why it was even more difficult to handle in actualbat where life was at stake.

    Marie pushed herself to the very limits of her strength, then sprang forward with explosive force, swinging her sword from below toward Ricardt. It was as fast as lightning, and the power behind it was like solid rock.

    However, in that brief moment, Ricardt moved slightly to the side and brought his sword down like a bolt of lightning onto Marie¡¯s de. His sword was not infused with mana.

    ng!

    ¡°Kyah!¡±

    As the swords collided, sparks flew. The practice swords, which were blunt and had no edge, split in two. The impact was so strong that Marie squeezed her eyes shut and fell to her knees.

    ¡°Wow!¡±

    ¡°Gasp!¡±

    The students watching couldn¡¯t help but exim in awe or gasp. It was already difficult to break a sword with a sharp de, but Ricardt had split the blunt practice sword in two.

    Surprisingly, Ricardt caught the pieces of the broken sword midair without even ncing at them, handling them lightly.

    Then, looking down at Marie who was kneeling, he said,

    ¡°There used to be a guy named Ice. You¡¯re like a weaker version of him. Because Ice quickly realized that simply attacking fast and strong wasn¡¯t the answer. He just couldn¡¯t find the solution after that.¡±

    Though he said this, his true feelings were different. In Ricardt¡¯s eyes, there wasn¡¯t much difference between Ice and Marie. However, the current Marie seemed to be chasing after something.

    Beingpared to someone else, Marie¡¯s pride was thoroughly hurt. She hung her head low, hiding her face behind her long hair, and muttered,

    ¡°I don¡¯t know who that is.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if you don¡¯t know. Because you¡¯re much worse than him.¡±

    Ricardt intentionally spoke coldly. He felt guilty, but he wanted her to calm that impatient heart of hers, even if it meant being harsh. Only that way, she could make real progress.

    Ricardt threw the practice sword and the broken pieces onto the ground and turned to leave.

    ng.

    ¡°Marie¡­¡±

    After Ricardt left, Boribori approached Marie, who was still kneeling.

    ¡°Let me see your hand for a second.¡±

    Marie, still hanging her head, listlessly extended her hand to Boribori.

    Boribori, being even more careful than when handling a squirrel, examined Marie¡¯s wrist. Fortunately, it didn¡¯t seem to be broken or seriously injured.

    He pulled out an herb from his pocket, one that was good for bruises, and chewed it in his mouth. Then, gently, he applied it to Marie¡¯s wrist.

    But as he did, water began to drip onto Marie¡¯s thigh. They were tears. It seemed the wound in her heart hurt far more than the pain in her wrist.

    There was nothing Boribori could do about that.

    ¡°Do you really have to be number one? Sometimes giving up on a foolish dream early is the best option.¡±

    Whether this was meant to beforting or just a realistic piece of advice, Marie, who had been crying, couldn¡¯t help butugh in disbelief despite her sadness.

    ¡°Pfft¡­ Don¡¯t make meugh, Bori.¡±

    ¡°Hehehe.¡±

    Seeing that Marie didn¡¯t seem too devastated, Boribori left her with her female friends and followed Ricardt.

    Thanks to that, Marie was able to gather her painful feelings and barely stand up. When she looked up, the sky was filled with gray storm clouds.

    Spring rain began to fall. Marie sat by the window, resting her chin on her hand, quietly watching the rain fall into the academy courtyard.

    Streams of water formed and flowed into the drains, while some energetic male students ran around,ughing loudly, not caring that their clothes were getting soaked.

    But soon, even those boys went back into the castle, leaving the rain-drenched courtyard filled with nothing but loneliness.

    Some people say their mood changes with the weather, but Marie wasn¡¯t one of those people.

    However, right now, it felt as if the rain falling from the cloudy sky was also pouring down on her heart.

    Unwanted memories from the past began to rise in her mind like smoke.

    ¡®You have to be someone useful. If not, there¡¯s no difference between you and a beggar on the street.¡¯

    Her grandfather¡¯s cold words echoed in her ears. In truth, those remarks didn¡¯t hurt as much, but there were other words¡ªwords she desperately wanted to erase from her memory.

    ¡®It¡¯s because of you that I¡¯m living like this. You should never have been born. No one ever wanted you.¡¯

    Marie¡¯s mother would often say those cruel words to her, despite Marie being an innocent child. Every time she heard them, it felt as if a knife was stabbing her in the heart.

    Perhaps that¡¯s why she had devoted herself so intensely to the sword¡ªto be someone useful, to be someone needed.

    Emperor udis, known as ¡®Virile Emperor¡¯ for his infamous virility, was renowned for his countless offspring, both legitimate and illegitimate.

    No one knew exactly how many illegitimate children he had, with some estimates ranging from 150 to as many as 400. Marie was one of them.

    Both her father and mother were of noble blood, but their union had not been a blessed one. Moreover, her mother was unmarried, making her birth unwanted by anyone.

    Marie grew up in her maternal family, a renowned household of swordsmanship. Perhaps because she had sensed her unstable position from a young age, Marie worked harder than anyone. She never wasted a single moment, constantly honing her skills day after day.

    Then, one day, as her skills were finally beginning to be recognized, she received news that her father, whom she had never met, had officially acknowledged her. That was how she finally gained a name and became part of the imperial family.

    Martellia von Nibelinger. That was Marie¡¯s full name and true name.

    But did that make her happy? Not at all. Nothing had really changed¡ªshe was still just a tool of the family.

    The higher the noble family, the more ruthlessly they used their members as tools, without any warmth or mercy.

    The reason she was acknowledged wasn¡¯t anything special. It was to show that even members of the imperial family were attending the academy, to encourage the enrollment of other nobles. That was all there was to it.

    Only then did Marie have a thought. She wanted to escape. She wanted to escape from all of this.

    When she asked her great-grandfather for help, he hadughed as if it was amusing and said:

    ¡®There is a genius at Beringen Academy. If you defeat that child and be number one, you may do as you please. Conversely, if you cannot defeat that child, you must marry him. That is what will benefit me, the family, and the Empire.¡¯

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    Marie half-closed her eyes as she listened to the sound of the rain falling heavily outside. But even that rain could not wash away the gloom and turmoil inside her.

    The cold, piercing gaze of Ricardt seemed to linger in her mind. Every time she thought of that gaze, her heart ached.

    Ricardt was a close friend to her, a swordsman she deeply respected, and an insurmountable wall at the same time.

    It wasn¡¯t just a matter of talent or effort. He had a strength that seemed to transcend the realm of humanity. Defeating him seemed impossible.

    What¡¯s worse, the fact that Ricardt couldn¡¯t even use manapletely shattered Marie¡¯s preconceptions, making her feel even more hopeless.

    Then what did all my efforts mean? How could he say I shouldn¡¯t rely on fast and strong attacks? What did that even mean?

    Yet, that despair felt strangely exhrating and made her heart flutter, even as it pulled her deeper into sadness. Because, deep down, she didn¡¯t want to be connected to him in such a way. Not like this¡­

    Her pride in her swordsmanship, her desire to escape her fate, and her feelings toward Ricardt all became chains that bound her, tightening around her.

    The unspoken weight of truth pressed down on her, making her feel that Ricardt, who had done nothing wrong, was somehow unfair and deserving of her resentment.

    Even her unhappy days didn¡¯t bring her to tears, but whenever she thought of Ricardt, her heart felt tight, painful, and tears seemed ready to spill. Yet Marie couldn¡¯t understand what this emotion truly meant.

    The sky darkened early as the overcast day grew dim. The dormitory room quickly became shadowy, and the other girls began lightingnterns one by one.

    Marie was about to leave the window and head to her bed when something caught her eye.

    She saw two figures entering the Academy through the main gates. Who could be arriving at this hour?

    They were a man and a woman, both wearing cloaks that reached down to their feet, with the hoods pulled low, making it difficult to see their faces. Judging by their height and build, they both appeared to be adults.

    The two figures, cloaked and soaked by the rain, nced around the academy courtyard before heading towards the inner castle.

    At that time, Ricardt was in his dorm room, joking around with Boribori and some of the other boys as they got ready for bed. Suddenly, someone banged on the door of the inner castle.

    They heard the sound of another student running barefoot down the hall. When the door finally opened, the sound of an outsider entering the building echoed through the halls.

    Then, one of the outsiders shouted loudly.

    ¡°Ricky! Ricky!¡±

    All the boys who had been gathered around Ricardt¡¯s bed turned to look at him. Then the voice called out again.

    ¡°Ricky! Get out here, you bastard!¡±

    Who in the world could it be? Ricardt, confused, slipped into some light clothing and went outside. In the central hall, he saw two people standing there, drenched from head to toe.

    When one of them turned and pulled back their hood, a huge grin spread across Ricardt¡¯s face.

    ¡°Volka!¡±

    As soon as he shouted, Boribori quickly rushed out as well, followed by other students who knew Volka. The ones who didn¡¯t know him just stood there, puzzled.

    Ricardt ran over to Volka, barefoot, and embraced him, not caring that they were both getting soaked.

    Volka, who had always beenrge, seemed to have grown even more in the time they hadn¡¯t seen each other. He looked as if he could easily overwhelm most adults now, and heughed heartily.

    ¡°Hahaha! Why are you running at me like a kid?¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t Ricky look a bit taller now?¡±

    The person standing beside Volka was Delphi. She had now fully grown into a finedy, radiating a calm, mature grace.

    ¡°What brings you here? Aren¡¯t you busy these days?¡±

    Ricardt asked with a wide smile still stered on his face. But at that question, Volka¡¯s expression turned a bit awkward.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s because we¡¯re from the same n, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, of course.¡±

    ¡°We kind of need your help. Soon, Academy students might be drafted too. We wanted to take you before that happens.¡±

    ¡°¡­Ah.¡±

    It seemed to be because of the guild war. There was no way the guild would let someone like Ricardt sit idle during such a critical time. On the other hand, the Vi n also desperately needed Ricardt right now.

    With just Volka and Delphi, it would be impossible to aplish anything significant in the war. They couldn¡¯t afford to be pushed around by the other ns, joining battles where they would just get tossed about.

    ¡°Sorry it¡¯s not good news. I should¡¯ve waited until tomorrow to tell you. No¡­ actually, it¡¯s urgent. It¡¯s raining, it¡¯ste, and we need to leave.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. Give me a moment. Bori, let¡¯s pack our things.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡±

    Without any further words, Ricardt headed straight back to his room to gather his belongings. He donned his red cloak and slung his meteoric iron sword over his shoulder.

    Then, along with Boribori, he followed Volka and Delphi outside. The other students stood around, bewildered, watching the scene unfold.

    But just as Ricardt was crossing the courtyard, almost reaching the main gates, someone called out from behind him.

    ¡°Ricky!¡±

    Ricardt turned around, and as expected, it was Marie, standing there in her pajamas, getting soaked by the spring rain.

    ¡°Marie?¡±

    ¡°Where are you going!?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ It looks like I¡¯m going to have to use my sword. I¡¯m sorry about today. I¡¯ll go easier next time. Sorry.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    Hearing his casual apology, the frustration Marie had been feeling seemed to wash away. Just a nce from him had made her heart ache, but now, with just a few words, it felt like a terrible illness had been cured.

    Marie stood there, dazed, letting the rain fall on her. Then, snapping back to her senses, she suddenly shouted.

    ¡°Wait! I¡¯ming with you!¡±

    With that, she quickly ran back into the girls¡¯ dormitory.

    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡±

    Volka asked, not understanding what was happening.

    ¡°Ah, she¡¯s new this year. Her sword skills are decent, but I¡¯m not sure about herbat skills.¡±

    ¡°I could tell right away.¡±

    Delphi said.

    ¡°Huh? Tell what?¡±

    ¡°Never mind. This isn¡¯t something to just say out loud. You really are a bad guy, Ricky.¡±

    ¡°Huuuh? Me?¡±

    Ricardt was left baffled by being called a bad guy out of nowhere. Before long, Marie came back out with her things packed.

    Even though Ricardt wasn¡¯t sure if this was the right thing to do, Marie joined the group, and now there were five of them as they left the academy.

    Spring rain continued to fall. Rain seemed to fall within their hearts as well. But the world gave no time for sadness or gloom.

    *****

    TL Note:

    Hi everyone, I¡¯ve been quite busy with worktely, so I couldn¡¯t dedicate much time to tranting. Although my schedule is tight, I¡¯ll do my best to carve out some time for it.

    I¡¯m also considering starting a Patreon or Ko-fi to help support my trantions. As things get busier, it might be difficult to provide regr updates without some form of support or motivation.

    Thank you for your understanding and continued support!

 Chapter 49

    Chapter 49

    <strong>Trantor: Willia</strong>

    The building of the Beringen Adventurers¡¯ Guild at the foot of the hill was as quiet as an empty house. This was because not only was Dunkel absent, but there were no other adventurers present either.

    Only the sound of rain softly falling outside could be heard, with a young clerk sitting by the firece, the sole guardian of the building.

    It might have seemed a little too defenseless, but since the real guild headquarters was inside the castle on the hill, it didn¡¯t matter if this ce got raided.

    Especially during guild wars, the location of themand center and rallying points were top-secret information. No one in their right mind would use the usual headquarters in such times.

    It waste at night. Had it passed midnight? Without looking at the sky, it was impossible to know for sure.

    The young clerk, feeling the warmth of the fire, was nodding off when the sound of someone banging on the door startled him awake. What¡¯s going on? This ce was supposed to be safe.

    Bang, bang, bang.

    Once again, someone knocked on the door. With each knock, the clerk¡¯s heart pounded ordingly.

    Cautiously, he walked towards the door. He slid open the small window attached to the door to peek outside. There stood figures cloaked like grim reapers.

    The person at the front pulled back their hood, revealing their face, and spoke.

    ¡°It¡¯s me. Volka.¡±

    Recognizing the face, the clerk breathed a sigh of relief.

    ¡°Hah¡­ Volka hyung, you scared me. You should¡¯ve said something beforehand.¡±

    ¡°You idiot, what if the enemy overheard my name? Hurry up and open the door.¡±

    The clerk quickly unlocked the door and let them in. Five people, their cloaks thoroughly drenched, walked in one by one. Water dripped from the ends of their cloaks.

    Traveling all the way here from the Academy in the rain for five or six hours was no small feat.

    As expected, Volka immediately went over to the firece, threw on some more firewood, and stoked the fire. He took off his cloak and hung it nearby to dry.

    Ricardt, Boribori, Marie, and Delphi also took off their wet cloaks and hung them by the fire to dry. Just sitting down made their legs feel refreshed, as if they could finally rx.

    Volka leaned heavily against the back of his chair, tilting his head back and propping his legs up on another chair.

    ¡°Ah¡­ this feels good. How the hell did I manage to keep making that trip in the past? It¡¯s so fucking far, seriously.¡±

    Volka had been the most active, frequently traveling back and forth between the Academy and the city, but after graduating, it seemed the journey now felt unbearable.

    As Volka took off his cloak, his peculiar armor came into view. It was made of several connected tes of metal that covered his entire left arm, resembling the exoskeleton of an insect.

    Though not visible from the outside, metal tes underneath his outer clothes protected his chest and abdomen. The armor was designed to protect his vital areas while allowing maximum mobility.

    ¡°Hey, take off your gear and rest. You need to dry it out.¡±

    Delphi said as she started organizing her own equipment and belongings.

    ¡°Just let me rest a bit first.¡±

    ¡°Sigh, without me, you really¡­¡­¡±

    Sighing, Delphi helped Volka take off his gear.

    Ricardt pulled out his sword and began to tend to it. Though it wasn¡¯t particrly wet, he wiped it down with a cloth and then carefully applied camellia oil. Marie and Boribori did the same.

    After that, while they were sitting and catching their breath, the young clerk spoke up.

    ¡°Volka hyung, want something to eat?¡±

    ¡°Is there anything left?¡±

    Volka asked in return. Most of the supplies had beenpletely ransacked, so there wasn¡¯t much left at the guild.

    ¡°Breadcrumb soup. With jerky bits. There are also a few potatoes.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s have that then.¡±

    The clerk brought out wooden bowls. He lifted the lid of the pot simmering over the fire anddled out the soup.

    One bowl after another was passed around, and Ricardt took his, blowing on it before slurping down a mouthful.

    It was a thin, milky gruel with a decently salty vor. Rather than for taste, it was simply warm enough to heat their bellies.

    When Ricardt was about halfway through his porridge, he asked Volka.

    By then, Volka had already taken off his shirt and was wiping his body down with a towel. His chest and stomach were covered in thick hair.

    ¡°So, where are we headed?¡±

    ¡°Kaitz. We¡¯ll be joining up with the Widowmakers n there. We don¡¯t have enough people to handle an entire front on our own.¡±

    The Vi n consisted of four members, making it one of the smallest ns. Large ns could have nearly dozens of members.

    It was the same principle as nobles, where there were high-ranking aristocrats like dukes or grand dukes, and then smaller-scale nobles. Large ns could even dominate entire guilds.

    In rare cases, some ns wouldpletely break away from the guild.

    ¡°What¡¯s our mission?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re just guarding the passageway.¡±

    ¡°So, there hasn¡¯t been any real fighting yet?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard there¡¯s been some knife-fighting here and there, but it seems like we haven¡¯t had many casualties on our side. Looks like the guilds are all being cautious.¡±

    ¡°Cautious about what?¡±

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t we have to figure out who¡¯s an enemy and who¡¯s an ally first?¡±

    Guilds could form alliances with one another, but whether or not they could trust those alliances depended entirely on the judgment of the guild master.

    ¡°It¡¯s certain that war¡¯s going to break out, but no one knows exactly when things will get serious.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, buttely the signs are definitely bad. There are more and more guys walking around armed.¡±

    ¡°What kind of people are these Widowmakers?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re hotheads. Problem is, they¡¯re dumb as hell.¡±

    Delphi, who was busy tending to Volka¡¯s equipment, answered the question for him.

    ¡°Ice is around too. I heard he¡¯s already killed five enemies. That¡¯s why he¡¯s now the number one target for the enemy.¡±

    ¡°Well, if it¡¯s Ice, that¡¯s not surprising.¡±

    ¡°Ice¡­¡±

    At the mention of a name she had beenpared to without even knowing who it was, Marie muttered quietly to herself. Volka and Delphi turned to look at her.

    ¡°Your name¡¯s Marie, right? Sorry for thete introduction. I¡¯m Volka.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Delphi. Nice to meet you.¡±

    ¡°Hello, I¡¯m Marie. I¡¯ve heard a lot about you from Ricky and Bori.¡±

    ¡°Feel free to speak casually. No need for formalities when we could die at any time. We only graduated recently too.¡±

    ¡°Volka, you¡¯re too blunt. Come here, I¡¯ll brush your hair.¡±

    Delphi said as she grabbed a brush and moved behind Marie.

    ¡°Huh? Ah, th-thank you¡­¡±

    ¡°No need for thanks. Just speakfortably.¡±

    Delphi, having just finished taking care of Volka¡¯s equipment, started brushing Marie¡¯s wet hair. She was truly a kind person, someone who always took care of others before herself. Despite her rough first impression, she had a gentle side.

    Ricardt, warming himself by the fire, thought back on the days he¡¯d spent with them. Then, looking at Volka, he called out.

    ¡°Hey Volka.¡±

    ¡°Yeah? What is it?¡±

    ¡°Do you think this war is worth fighting? Or are you just doing it just because you¡¯re in a guild?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then?¡±

    ¡°When a new area opens up, won¡¯t a new branch head be needed? I can¡¯t live my whole life being dragged around as a sword-for-hire. I need to start setting up roots and preparing to settle down. Honestly, I¡¯m not too keen on the north, but when an opportunityes, you have to take it.¡±

    ¡°Do you really think you¡¯ll be a branch head once the war is over?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. That depends on the higher-ups. Either way, I¡¯m stuck living off my sword. What else can I do? If I save up enough money, I¡¯m going to clear somend and build our own estate. Delphi and I will live there until we grow old and die.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    Delphi, who had been brushing Marie¡¯s hair, remained silent. She didn¡¯t tease him with her usual yful jabs but instead just blushed slightly.

    ¡°Volka, you sound like an adult.¡±

    Boribori, who was eating another bowl of nd soup, chimed in. Volka just leaned back in his chair and smiled faintly.

    ¡°I have to look after you guys too, you know. After all, I¡¯m the leader of the Vi n. If you don¡¯t have anything else to doter, you cane plow the fields at our estate.¡±

    This time, Ricardt let out a small chuckle. Just like during their days at the Academy, Volka seemed to have a strong sense of responsibility.

    ¡°Let¡¯s rest here for a bit and leave in the morning. If anyone wants to wash up, go ahead. Though it¡¯ll be cold water, of course. But you know we can¡¯t be picky right now, right?¡±

    Volka said. As he suggested, they warmed themselves by the fire for a while, then Ricardt, Boribori, and Volka went out to the well in the back courtyard of the building.

    The men roughly sshed water on themselves to wash up, while the two women used the bath barrel to clean themselves, though they couldn¡¯t heat the water.

    Afterward, they dried their clothes by the fire, and everyone found an empty room to lie down and rest, men and women separately, even if only for a short while.

    The sound of rain hitting the roof and windows served as a perfect luby, and though the sleep was brief, it was deep.

    Drip, drip¡­ drip¡­

    By morning, when they gathered their equipment and belongings and stepped outside, the clear sky greeted Ricardt and his group.

    ¡°Take care of yourselves.¡±

    The young clerk said, appearing quite proud to be guarding the building alone. Of course, he wasn¡¯t fighting enemies but just dusting and clearing cobwebs, but still.

    The world, damp from the rain, looked fresher than usual, though the ground was still soggy. However, once they left the city and walked across the fields, the footing improved.

    The group followed Volka and Delphi as they headed southwest. The ce called Kaitz was a sort of hignd, uninhabited.

    However, it had an old, ruined defensive tower that had long since lost its purpose. upying the tower would allow control over the surrounding area.

    Since anyone coulde down from the high ground and ambush travelers, it was nearly impossible to move safely without securing the tower.

    In short, it was a critical stronghold.

    Volka led the group, keeping an eye on the surroundings, while Ricardt took up the rear. Though there were only five of them, they moved in a well-ordered formation.

    Although it was an area with clear visibility in all directions, these were actually the ces you had to be most careful of.

    Even t terrain isn¡¯t truly t- slight rises and dips in thend can hide things that aren¡¯t visible from a distance but be apparent up close. Especially in spring or summer, when the grass grows tall, it¡¯s easier to conceal oneself.

    Enemies could hide in such ces, waiting tounch an ambush, so even in open fields, it was essential to stay alert.

    Ricardt, staying vignt as they passed through, didn¡¯t sense any immediate danger.

    The group quickened their pace, and byte afternoon, they arrived at an area where short grass and jagged rocks jutted up from the gently sloping ground. This marked the beginning of Kaitz.

    But just as they reached this point safely, they encountered five or six people. The group had been hidden behind the mountainside, but as they turned a corner, they came into view.

    They were armed, each person equipped with different, unique gear that was clearly suited to their individual preferences. They were obviously adventurers.

    The distance between the two groups was roughly 40 to 50 meters. It was an awkward distance¡ªclose enough to pass without acknowledgment if they didn¡¯t want trouble, but too far for an ambush. A distance where shouts could be heard.

    In other words, an ambiguous distance, and it was clear that neither group had been aware of the other until they stumbled upon each other.

    ¡°Hey!¡±

    ¡°Which guild are you with?¡±

    The other party shouted first. Should they fight here, or should they ignore them and continue up the path?

    Volka immediately nced up the road toward the defensive tower. But there, blocking their path, more people had appeared, observing what was happening below.

    The enemy found it suspicious when no one answered their question about affiliation. At that moment, Ricardt quickly shouted.

    ¡°Brabant!¡±

    The Brabant Guild was one of the guilds closest to the central northern region, alongside the Beringen Guild. In other words, they would never be on the same side as these people, so Ricardt cleverly shouted out the name, hoping to mislead them.

    It was a good move, but it was a flimsy lie.

    ¡°Brabant? Is Brabanting too? Hey! Not the guild! What n are you with?¡±

    It seemed the deception wasn¡¯t going to work.

    ¡°Let¡¯s head up. Volka will clear the path. I¡¯ll take the rear.¡±

    Ricardt said quietly, making sure only his group could hear.

    ¡°Got it.¡±

    Volka nodded. There was no time for discussion. They couldn¡¯t run away from here either. Trying to shake off a chase would be more dangerous and exhausting. It was better to break through and quickly join up with the Widowmakers n at the defensive tower.

    Without needing to agree out loud, Volka casually started heading up the path first. So far, neither side had drawn their weapons.

    When they had covered some distance, the people up ahead noticed something was off and shouted.

    ¡°Don¡¯te any closer. We¡¯ll consider you enemies.¡±

    ¡°Hey! Put your weapons down!¡±

    ¡°These bastards are from Beringen!¡±

    With that, Volka charged at the enemies above like a raging bull.

    They weren¡¯tplete novices either, as they quickly grabbed their swords or maces to face him.

    As an enemy¡¯s sword swung toward Volka at the front, he deflected it with the iron armor on his left arm, then rammed his body into the attacker.

    Thud!

    At the same time, he shoved an arm between the enemy¡¯s legs, lifted him uppletely, and hurled him down the slope toward the others.

    ¡°Whoa!¡±

    ¡°Dammit!¡±

    ¡°Stop them! Don¡¯t let them climb!¡±

    The man Volka threw knocked down several of hisrades, but those who were still on their feet fought desperately to block Ricardt and the group.

    Volka drew a short, broad sword from his waist and charged recklessly. He fought at close range, punching, throwing, or stabbing with his sword.

    It was such a rough fighting style that there were bound to be some openings, but Delphi covered those openings perfectly.

    Volka broke through the enemies in one rough exchange.

    Marie and Boribori quickly followed behind, and as Ricardt, wearing his scabbard diagonally, followedst, an enemy who had rushed over tried to stab him in the back with a sword.

    But as if Ricardt had eyes in the back of his head, he suddenly spun around, shing his sword with lightning speed.

    ng!

    The enemy¡¯s sword broke, and in the same motion, Ricardt¡¯s sword cut through the enemy¡¯s chin while simultaneously slicing his throat.

    ¡°Gurgh!¡±

    One man went down, but two more charged at Ricardt from both sides. This was while the broken sword was still in the air.

    The attacks from both directions had a slight time difference. Ricardt responded to the attack from the right first, pushing his sword forward to meet it head-on.

    ng!

    Once again a metallic sound rang out, and as the attack from the left cut through empty air, Ricardt twisted his wrist to disengage the locked swords and immediately swung his sword.

    Whoosh!

    The enemy closest to him had his neck cleanly severed, and the one on the left had his throat shed. With a single sh, Ricardt had killed both men.

    The fragments of the broken sword ttered against a nearby rock.

    ng!

    In the blink of an eye, the attacking enemies were stunned. Ice had earned his reputation by killing five enemies, but Ricardt had already cut down three in mere moments.

    Standing on the sloping path, Ricardt stared down at the remaining enemies, bloodied sword in hand. The wind caught his crimson cloak, causing it to flutter slightly.

    One of the enemies, as if suddenly realizing something, pointed at Ricardt and shouted loudly.

    ¡°You! Red Cloak! It¡¯s Ricky, the Red Cloak Ricky!¡±

    ¡°You know me?¡±

    Ricardt, who had just killed three people in an instant, asked in confusion. However, instead of answering, the person ran across the hignd field shouting like a shepherd warning about wolves.

    ¡°It¡¯s Ricky! It¡¯s Red Cloak Ricky!¡±

    The other enemies, hearing this, turned and fled in a panic. Seeing this, Volka, Delphi, Boribori, and Marie, who had been climbing ahead, turned around in confusion. No one was more puzzled than Ricardt himself. What the hell was going on?

    The enemies kept shouting the same thing as they ran.

    ¡°It¡¯s Red Cloak Ricky!¡±

    ¡°Ricky is here!¡±

    Ricardt didn¡¯t really want to chase after the fleeing enemies, but he was curious about who they were trying to alert with such shouting. So, he ran after them, dashing across the hignd fields.

    As he turned around the mountainside, he unconsciously drew in a sharp breath.

    ¡°Hah!¡±

    This was because there were what looked to be easily over a hundred people swarming far below in the hignds.

    Volka and the rest of the group, who had followed behind, were just as shocked when they saw the scene.

    ¡°My god¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°What is this¡­¡­ Is this a real war?¡±

    Guild wars were different from actual wars. It was usually just a series of skirmishes between swordsmen, with people killing each other here and there. At most, only a few dozen people would be involved.

    Guilds varied in size, but even thergest ones capable of gathering a hundred or more people wouldn¡¯t normally mass them in one ce like this. It seemed clear that multiple guilds had allied together.

    In any case, it was obvious that things were getting very serious.

    The enemies who had encountered Ricardt and his group ran towards the swarm of adventurers, shouting all the while. Ricardt¡¯s name echoed across the hignds.

    ¡°It¡¯s Red Cloak Ricky!¡±

    *****

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 Chapter 50

    Chapter 50

    <strong>Trantor: Willia</strong>

    One shouldn¡¯t judge people solely by their appearance, but sometimes, it was hard to think otherwise.

    Reinhardt, the leader of the Widowmakers n, looked like a bandit, no matter who looked at him. The way he spoke and acted also matched that of a bandit.

    ¡°Hey! We could be dead tomorrow, so just drink up!¡±

    A burly man with a thick beard sat sprawled on the floor inside the defense tower, speaking in a rough tone. He looked to be around two meters tall, and his exposed belly looked like a small hill pushing through his clothes.

    A massive wooden club, about the height of a person, leaned against the wall, leaving a strong impression. Given its weight, one couldn¡¯t help but wonder if it could even be used as a weapon.

    Yet, the club was covered with dried blood, bits of flesh, and strands of hair.

    ¡°No, forget the drinking! I¡¯m telling you, there are about a hundred enemies gathered down below right now!¡±

    Volka shouted, clearly frustrated.

    ¡°We know, you idiot! So what? You suggesting we abandon this ce and run? But the orders I received were to defend this ce, weren¡¯t they? So whether a hundred or a thousande, we defend it, what do I care!¡±

    With that, Reinhardt gulped down another bowl of liquor. He drank it all in one go, letting out a massive burp afterward. It was strong enough to stir a breeze.

    ¡°Buuuuurp! Hic!¡±

    ¡°Ugh, gross!¡±

    Delphi turned her head, grimacing. Ricardt, Boribori, Marie, and Volka all did the same.

    They fanned their hands continuously, but it was no use. The foul stench, emanating from deep within his stomach, was overwhelming.

    Volka cursed inwardly. No, the curse slipped out before he could contain it.

    ¡°Damn it.¡±

    Even so, Reinhardt didn¡¯t seem to care. Instead, he grinned with his mouth big enough to swallow a person whole. He seemed satisfied seeing the young ones suffering from his burp.

    ¡°Hehehe, you little cuties, go if you want. I won¡¯t force you to stay. But my brothers and I, unless we get other orders, we¡¯re prepared to die here.¡±

    Was it a sense of responsibility? Loyalty? Even noble chivalry wasn¡¯t this extreme. Anyone could see that retreating was the right choice when faced with obvious defeat.

    But the reason he was so stubborn seemed to align with Delphi¡¯s assessment. He was just¡­ dense.

    Reinhardt didn¡¯t consider anything else. Orders hade from above, he¡¯d agreed to carry them out, and so he would. That was all.

    Unlike Volka, Ricardt thought the guild leadership had made an excellent decision in cing Reinhardt here.

    In the military, everymander had a distinct temperament and personality. Some were suited for offense, while others were better at defense.

    Of course, there were those who excelled at both, but setting talent aside, such characteristics truly existed.

    Among them,manders who were good at holding positions tended to be exceptionally stubborn, fierce, and resilient.

    It seemed that the leadership of the Beringen Guild had taken these traits into ount when they stationed Reinhardt here.

    However, this wasn¡¯t a typical war fought with regr military forces. While simr, there were certainly different aspects to it.

    At that moment, Reinhardt turned his gaze to Ricardt, who was standing beside Volka, his eyes lighting up.

    ¡°Hey, Red Cloak. Is it you? The genius swordsman they say killed the Mad Dog?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    Ricardt nodded in confirmation.

    Volka, Delphi, and Marie, unaware of this fact, looked at Ricardt with wide eyes. The Mad Dog? Surely not¡­ could he be referring to that man, one of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords?

    Initially, the fact that Ricardt and Boribori, along with Nameless, had taken down the Ernburg Five was highly ssified, so the rumor hadn¡¯t spread far.

    However, high-ranking individuals, including n masters, were all aware of it. Ironically, Volka and Delphi, who were close to Ricardt, hadn¡¯t known.

    Reinhardt wasn¡¯t a n master in charge of overseeing multiple ns, but he held a stature within the guild almost equivalent to one, so he had picked up on the story along the way.

    ¡°He¡¯s not someone you could kill by luck alone. Even with the help of Nameless, it wouldn¡¯t have been easy. I know that well. I¡¯ve seen that mad, terrifying bastard with my own eyes.¡±

    The slightly tipsy Reinhardt was naturally reminded of a particrly intense memory.

    Steiner, standing against the backdrop of a burning vige, with a blood-red sword in hand. His eyes gleamed with a crazed light, like a rabid dog, and just the sight of him made Reinhardt¡¯s knees go weak, as if Steiner might lunge at him at any moment.

    It had only been a chance encounter while he was passing by on a mission, and he was incredibly relieved that they hadn¡¯t met as enemies.

    A Sword Master was someone who had transcended human limits. From that day on, Reinhardt believed it was impossible for an ordinary human to kill a Sword Master.

    Yet, Steiner had been killed¡ªby the hand of this young genius swordsman. Of course, it was only possible because of the powerful ally, Nameless, but still, it was an incredible feat. After all, Reinhardt himself wouldn¡¯t have been capable of such a thing at that age.

    ¡°To catch a tiger, you need the guts to enter its den. Whatever else people say, you¡¯ve certainly done something remarkable. But remember this. fame is a double-edged sword. It may seem like it¡¯ll lead you to glory, but in reality, it¡¯s a rope stretched over a cliff. You could fall at any time. And there will be plenty of people trying to kill you to steal that fame for themselves.¡±

    Listening to Reinhardt¡¯s words, Ricardt thought that this man wasn¡¯t just a simple brute. With a faint smile, he replied.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t kill him for fame. I just took down a rabid dog that needed to be put down. And I¡¯m already used to peopleing after me for my reputation.¡±

    Ten years as a shepherd, ten years on the battlefield, and ten years as a notorious killer. In his past life, he had spent a decade killing those who came for his fame.

    During those years, Ricardt had encountered all sorts of people, experienced every kind of trick, and survived every sort of crisis.

    ¡°What are you, someone who¡¯s lived two lives? You¡¯re not cute at all, kid.¡±

    Reinhardt looked at him with an expression that seemed to say, ¡°What kind of kid is this?¡± Ricardt just smiled at his words that unexpectedly hit close to the truth.

    With that, he stepped out of the defense tower. Outside, the sun was just beginning to set, casting the sky in a warm glow.

    ¡°That ¡®Mad Dog¡¯¡­ that¡¯s not THE Mad Dog Steiner of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords, is it?¡±

    Volka, still looking bewildered, hurried over to ask.

    ¡°Ask Bori about it.¡±

    Ricardt answered nonchntly and began inspecting the area around the defense tower.

    The cylindrical defense tower was built of brick, but its top had crumbled, leavingrge stones scattered around. Overgrown vegetation covered the stone debris, as if to remind them of the passage of time.

    In short, the defense tower had lost its defensive function and was only suitable as a temporary shelter.

    Around the tower, members of the Widowmakers n had set up tents to live in. There were only about a dozen of them. Combined with Ricardt¡¯s Vi n members, they numbered around twenty in total.

    Ricardt walked steadily to survey the southern side of the defense tower. Below was a sheer cliff, making it seemingly impossible for enemies to approach from this direction.

    At the base of the cliff, a stream flowed from east to west, with a path running alongside it. If one headed west along this path, it split into two, leading north and south.

    This path was crucial for the enemy. To reach the central northern region of the Empire, specifically the area around Siegfringer, they had to pass through here.

    Walking a bit west from the defense tower, there was a suspension bridge extending to the mountain on the opposite side. The old ropes still looked sturdy, but the footboards were half-rotted and appeared unstable.

    In other words, the likely points of enemy attack were the gentle slopes to the north and east. Even there, the path near the defense tower was narrow.

    They could hold their ground if they tried, but if arge number of enemies swarmed in and blocked the entrance, they would be at risk of starving to death.

    Ricardt came to a conclusion in his mind. Although the defense tower had be practically useless, its location was undoubtedly a strategic stronghold. The terrain offered a good view in all directions, and there was even an escape route if needed.

    ¡°What are you going to do?¡±

    Marie, who had been following Ricardt around, asked him.

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°I mean, staying here doesn¡¯t seem like a great idea, just like Volka-ssi said.¡±

    ¡°Why do you keep calling him ¡®Volka-ssi¡¯? Just call him Volka.¡±

    ¡°No, really, what are you going to do?¡±

    ¡°From what I see, it¡¯s defendable. Even if it weren¡¯t, we shouldn¡¯t just hand this ce over. If we give up everything whenever the enemyes flooding in, what will we have left? We need to inflict some damage, at least. What do you think, Marie?¡±

    ¡°What about requesting reinforcements?¡±

    Ricardt shook his head. The guild was probably using almost all their manpower just to secure newly acquired territories. They were likely just as overwhelmed there as here, if not more so.

    Not that Volka¡¯s reaction or Marie¡¯s suggestion were wrong. They were reasonable and perfectly sensible.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you afraid of dying, Ricky? Is it confidence in your own skill?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not sure myself. What do you think it looks like to you?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s just because you¡¯re brave.¡±

    Ricardt didn¡¯t respond and merely gave a faint smile. Honestly, he himself didn¡¯t fully understand that part about him.

    If one looked at Ricardt¡¯s actions so far, he seemed recklessly willing to put his life on the line. But even he wasn¡¯t sure if it was simply because he was courageous.

    Ricardt moved on, heading to scout the enemy forces positioned below the eastern high ground. From here, a hundred or so didn¡¯t look like too many, but it was certainly arge number.

    However, to Ricardt¡¯s eyes, the enemy seemed poorly organized, as if they were simply a crowd of people gathered together. They hadn¡¯t dug trenches or nted stakes to establish any fortifications.

    It looked like a random assortment of people, grouped together to make up the number. They had merely formed a loose alliance of individuals from different ns to reach a hundred in total.

    Most importantly, they didn¡¯t have a separate supply unit. There was no system or organization in ce to ensure a steady provision of food. They were just relying on whatever they had brought with them, so it seemed likely their supplies would run out soon.

    It was easy to tell that they had acent attitude, thinking, ¡°As long as there¡¯s arge group of us, we¡¯ll manage somehow.¡± They looked like a group of beggars camping out in tents. Although, of course, their appearance wasn¡¯t quite that shabby.

    Perhaps they didn¡¯t even have amander. If they did, they wouldn¡¯t just be idling around down there. They¡¯d be spread out, trying to form a proper encirclement.

    Of course, even if there was amander, it wouldn¡¯t matter if no one listened to them. Adventurers, with their strong individualistic streaks, were difficult to manage like regr soldiers.

    Theirbat skills were exceptional, but they varied greatly, making it hard for them to fight effectively as a cohesive unit.

    As the sun set further, casting a deeper red glow over everything, a few groups began to separate from therger crowd of enemies. They started walking up towards the defense tower.

    Judging by their weapons, they wereing to fight. But if they intended to attack, why weren¡¯t theying as a whole group? Why were theying up in small numbers?

    Ricardt soon found the answer to his question.

    A man with a longsword at his waist walked halfway up alone and shouted towards them.

    ¡°Hey! Red Cloak! Red Cloak Ricky! Come out here! Let¡¯s duel!¡±

    This was precisely what distinguished this from a typical war. Individual ambition was more important than the overall objective. It was about earning fame.

    Ricardt watched the man who hade forward and, gripping his sword in one hand, began walking down towards him.

    ¡°R-Ricky¡­¡±

    ¡°Ricky!¡±

    Marie, flustered, called out to Ricardt, and Volka, who had been talking with Boribori, also shouted in surprise. It wasn¡¯t a fight he needed to respond to.

    But Ricardt didn¡¯t look back, continuing his steady descent down the gentle slope covered in short grass. The rocks jutting out here and there were tinged red by the sunset.

    Ricardt held his sword in his left hand and casually walked down, stopping a short distance away to face his opponent. The spot where Ricardt stood was on slightly higher ground.

    ¡°I am Eberstein, the Second Sword of the ¡®Three Swords¡¯ n.¡±

    It was a n Ricardt had never heard of before. It might be famous elsewhere, but this was his first time hearing the name.

    The man, with a beard covering his lower jaw that left a strong impression, observed Ricardt quietly before speaking again.

    ¡°You¡¯re younger than I expected, Red Cloak. I hold no personal grudge against you.¡±

    With that, Eberstein stopped wasting words and drew his sword. He took up a stable stance, pointing the tip of his de at Ricardt. Judging by the look in his eyes, there was no room for carelessness.

    To be honest, most of Ricardt¡¯s victories so far hade from exploiting his opponents¡¯ moments of overconfidence, taking them down in a single strike. The Vilton brothers who had approached carelessly, the powerful foes who underestimated him due to his young age and rushed in recklessly.

    If there was a reason Ricardt had been able to rise so rapidly, it was because he seized those briefpses in judgment with precision, never missing an opportunity.

    However, now his reputation had spread far and wide, and people no longer underestimated him. No one thought less of him just because he was young.

    Beyond mere mastery of the sword, he was now facing increasingly difficult battles.

    But while Ricardt had often won by exploiting carelessness, that wasn¡¯t all there was to him. Nor did he rely on that alone.

    Scattered across the high field, members of the Beringen Guild looked down from above, while the enemies watched from below.

    Not only Ricardt¡¯s friends but even Reinhardt hade out, putting his drink down to watch. Every gaze was fixed on Ricardt and his opponent.

    All those of great renown in the world were expected to prove whether they were truly worthy of their fame.

    Moreover, the closer one walked toward bing the strongest, or even if they had already achieved it, or were aiming for something beyond that, a swordsman¡¯s fate was to prove themselves until the day they died.

    Without introducing himself, and without a single word, Ricardt drew his sword. While he didn¡¯t care about proving himself, proof wasn¡¯t done with words anyway.

    His cloak fluttered gently in the breeze, and the de, stained by the sunset, glowed a deep, blood-red.

    *****

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    Hi everyone, I¡¯ve created a Patreon for extra chapters and to provide a way for you to support the trantion of this novel. I n to release 4 chapters weekly for Patreon subscribers. For readers here on Woopread, I n to release 3 chapters weekly.

    Patreon Link ¨C </a>

    *****

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 Chapter 51

    Chapter 51

    <strong>Trantor: Willia</strong>

    The crimson sunset looked as though it was stained with blood, or perhaps as if it were aze. Beneath that sunset, more than a hundred pairs of eyes watched the duel, each carrying their own thoughts.

    Some were filled with encouragement, some with anticipation, some with boundless curiosity, and some¡­

    In Marie¡¯s eyes, she saw Ricardt¡¯s back. The boy who had stepped up for the duel was not trembling. Rather than courage, he seemed to have no lingering attachment to life. Strangely, that was the impression he gave.

    The opponents had climbed to higher ground to watch the duel more closely. They were scattered here and there, but they were so close that it was almost concerning to see them approach without hesitation.

    Despite this, the boy waspletely unfazed, as if it didn¡¯t matter whether a hundred or a thousand people came at him.

    Between Ricardt and his opponent, Eberstein, was the red sun, slowly sinking over the distant ridge.

    Because of this, Ricardt and his opponent each had one side of their bodies dyed red, while the other side was cast in shadow.

    Who would make the first move? In a life-or-death duel, that was always the most crucial thing.

    Just because one was skilled didn¡¯t mean the fight wouldst long. In fact, most often, it was over in an instant.

    In many cases, it ended with the first strike. Even if one side won, they might still get severely injured. Such was the nature of swordsmanship.

    Therefore, those who engaged in life-or-death duels had to put all their skills, their entire lives, at the tip of their sword. Sometimes, even their very death.

    The red sun sank lower and lower. The onlookers were starting to worry that it might get too dark before anything happened.

    As the world slowly, gradually dimmed, there was a fleeting moment when it grew noticeably darker than before.

    At that instant, Eberstein took a swift step forward. It was light and agile.

    But his sword wouldn¡¯t be swung until after that step. That was how all swordsmanship was. Otherwise, the power of the sword would be diminished.

    So, Ricardt watched his opponent¡¯s eyes, and simultaneously, he observed everything as a whole, shifting slightly to his right even before the opponent¡¯s foot fully touched the ground.

    But in that extremely brief moment, Ricardt felt something was off about the distance. In other words, the opponent¡¯s attackcked sincerity.

    As the opponent¡¯s foot touched the ground again, someone suddenly leapt out from behind a rock to the right. So that¡¯s what they were aiming for.

    The opponent¡¯s foot hit the ground. Then, instead of shing with each other, the two swords sliced through empty air.

    Whoosh! Swish!

    ¡°Ricky!¡±

    ¡°The, there!¡±

    People were taken aback. Pretending it was a one-on-one duel, only to aim for an ambush.

    The person who suddenly appeared lunged at Ricardt. Ricardt quickly turned to face him. But the attack itself was a ruse.

    The ambusher didn¡¯t approach Ricardtpletely; instead, he quickly circled around, flinging throwing knives with both hands in rapid session¡ªwhoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

    The knives were infused with mana. They looked as if they could pierce even an iron te. Surely, with such tactics, he must have earned quite a reputation in the region.

    The more terrifying part, however, was that the first knife was intended to force Ricardt to dodge, the second to block his escape route, and the third was the real threat. Such precision!

    Indeed, Ricardt managed to avoid the first two knives but couldn¡¯t evade the third.

    Ricardt¡¯s upper body twisted sharply, bending backward. From a distance, anyone watching would think he¡¯d been struck by the knife.

    ¡°Ricky!¡±

    His friends¡¯ cries filled the air. However, the one closest to Ricardt at that moment was Eberstein. He quickly approached Ricardt to finish him off.

    But what was this? Suddenly, a dagger¡¯s tip appeared before his eyes. Ricardt had caught the third knife and thrown it back at him. Wait, is this even possible? No way!

    Eberstein felt as if time had slowed down for a moment. But because he knew better than anyone that there was no way to dodge, all he could do was experience the prolonged agony of fear and despair in the face of death.

    Thunk!

    The dagger pierced directly into the center of Eberstein¡¯s forehead. The de sank inpletely, leaving only the handle visible, reaching deep into his brain. The force behind the dagger caused his head to snap backward.

    At that moment, the one who had been holding a dagger and was about to join in to kill Ricardt hesitated, thrown off by the unexpected turn of events. In his vision, Ricardt¡¯s cloak spun like a top due to his swift movement.

    The red cloak red open roughly, and from beyond it, the tip of a sword thrust out toward him.

    ¡°Urgh!¡±

    In a situation he hadn¡¯t anticipated even in his dreams, his steps stumbled, and he staggered as if he were about to fall backward. In the end, all he could do was throw his hands forward in a futile attempt to block.

    Ricardt¡¯s sword pierced through his palm and continued forward, stabbing precisely through his throat.

    ¡°Guh!¡±

    Without bothering to confirm the man¡¯s death, Ricardt immediately pulled his sword out, swinging it in the air to shake off the blood.

    Then, with one hand, he flicked his slightly disheveled cloak back, ncing left and right as if to check if anyone else would dare to attack.

    On the groundy two corpses sprawled out, and despite the unexpected ambush, Ricardt had killed both skilled opponents without a hint of hesitation. He didn¡¯t even bother to unt his victory.

    Both enemies and allies alike couldn¡¯t help but admire him. Not even a well-rehearsed stunt could look this wless. It was truly the pinnacle of skill.

    ¡°Wow¡­¡±

    Even Ricardt¡¯s friends, who had been rushing to help him, stopped in their tracks, staring nkly. What just happened?

    But there was another problem, and that was Reinhardt, the leader of the Widowmakers n.

    ¡°Those cowardly fucking bastards!¡±

    Outraged by the cowardly ambush attempted during what was supposed to be a sacred duel, he dragged his massive club along the ground as he descended the slope.

    Although the ground didn¡¯t actually shake, his enormous stature and the way he stomped down made it feel as if it did.

    ¡°Hey, you dirty bastards! You call yourselves men!? Don¡¯t you feel any shame!? Huh!? What are you looking at, you sons of bitches!¡±

    The sun had already set, and the surroundings were dim, but his voice was so loud that his presence was impossible to ignore. And as their leader stepped forward, his subordinates followed him down in a group.

    Ricardt was momentarily taken aback. Wait, this isn¡¯t right. Who¡¯s going to guard the watchtower?

    Just then, several people started charging toward Ricardt. They were ones who harbored the foolish dream that if they killed him, they could take the vacant position among the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords for themselves.

    But because each of them had that thought, they weren¡¯t allies¡ªthey werepetitors.

    ¡°Get out of my way! Move!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m first!¡±

    Ricardt quickly scanned his surroundings once more, then rushed forward to meet them instead. He moved along the outskirts, swinging his sword under the faint light of dusk.

    Whoosh!

    The sound of cutting through air was heard as Ricardt¡¯s sword shed with an opponent¡¯s weapon. His opponent¡¯s weapon sliced through empty space, while Ricardt¡¯s sword cut through the tendons under his opponent¡¯s armpit.

    The opponent¡¯s arm didn¡¯te offpletely but dangled loosely.

    ¡°Aaargh!¡±

    At this point, the enemies, in a desperate frenzy, started charging recklessly, and soon got tangled up with each other.

    At that moment, Reinhardt, who had been thundering down the hill, swung his massive club and crushed one of the enemies to pieces.

    ¡°You shameless bastards!¡±

    Wham!

    With an overwhelming weight, he crushed through the enemy¡¯s armor and weapons alike. After killing one enemy, he swung his club left and right with booming force.

    To an outsider, it looked like he was just swinging wildly, but his strikes were so powerful that none of the enemies dared toe close.

    At that moment, Reinhardt¡¯s subordinates charged at the retreating enemies.

    ¡°You fucking bastards!¡±

    ¡°Get lost if you don¡¯t want your wives to be widows!¡±

    ¡°Long live the Widowmakers!¡±

    The members of the Beringen Guild were vastly outnumberedpared to their enemies, but with the chaotic situation and the dim evening light, it was impossible to tell what was going on.

    Among the hundred or so enemies, some were attacking Ricardt, some were fleeing from the Widowmakers n, and others were standing back, merely watching from a distance.

    The most outrageous sight was those who were looting gear off their fallen allies¡¯ corpses. Perhaps they didn¡¯t care who won or lost this guild war and just wanted to make some quick cash.

    It wasplete mayhem, with everyone doing whatever they pleased. It wasn¡¯t so much a battle as a brawl between people wielding des.

    In the midst of it, a few sharp-witted enemies tried to take advantage of the chaos to capture the watchtower.

    Despite the difficulty of discerning anything in the confusion, Ricardt urately picked up on their movements.

    The enemies charging at him were so tangled up with each other that they couldn¡¯t properly attack him, so he didn¡¯t have to worry about them.

    However, the enemies rushing up the slope toward the watchtower were a clear threat.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine! Defend the watchtower!¡±

    Honestly, Ricardt didn¡¯t even know where his friends were. The sun had set before he realized it, and darkness quickly enveloped the surroundings.

    Amid the confusion, Ricardt quickly assessed the battlefield. It was toote to hold Reinhardt back, and trying to defend the watchtower by going back was also out of the question.

    So, he simply charged toward the enemies. With darkness surrounding him, he swung his sword in all directions, cutting wherever he could. Arms were severed, sides were shed, and necks were sliced.

    The enemies couldn¡¯t tell friend from foe, nor did they know who was cutting them down.

    ¡°Fuck!¡±

    ¡°Aaaaaah!¡±

    ¡°Who is it! Get out of the way!¡±

    In the midst of this, Ricardt broke through the enemies and dashed down toward the lower slopes.

    Meanwhile, even amidst the noise, Boribori distinctly picked up Ricardt¡¯s voice. So he stood firmly blocking the narrow path leading to the defense tower to protect it.

    Boribori¡¯s weakness was that since his swordsmanship was based on writing characters, his steps weren¡¯t agile and thus he had to be conservative in utilizing space.

    But in a stationary fight, he was truly formidable.

    Sure enough, as the enemies charged toward him, he swung his sword at high speed. His mana-infused de left dark trails, even cker than the night.

    With rapid whips and thuds, the sound was like that of a butcher chopping and slicing meat.

    Heads and limbs dropped in front of Boribori, one after another.

    He calmly stepped back, swinging his sword, and the enemies, oblivious to the dismembered bodies at his feet, tripped over the severed limbs and tumbled to the ground.

    ¡°Boribori! Boribori the ¡®Five Body Part Slicer¡¯!¡±

    Someone shouted, and while he hated how people came up with nicknames like this, there was nothing he could do about it¡ªit was a name others had given him.

    However, there was a problem. He could handle enemies charging directly at him, but those keeping their distance and throwing iron balls ors were a different story.

    Despite appearances, these were people who each had a certain reputation in their own regions, so their skills with various weapons were far from amateur.

    One of the iron balls struck Boribori¡¯s fingers, which was gripping his sword.

    Crack!

    ¡°Ugh!¡±

    His right index and middle fingers broke simultaneously. Boribori clenched his teeth, gripping his sword tightly with the remaining fingers on his other hand to avoid dropping it. But in this state, he couldn¡¯t wield his full strength.

    ¡°Bori!¡±

    It was Marie¡¯s voice. He couldn¡¯t see her because of the enemies obstructing his view. She was probably beyond them.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine!¡±

    He shouted that he was fine, even though he wasn¡¯t. Letting his allies know he was still alive was necessary to prevent them from losing morale. Besides, it wasn¡¯t a fatal wound¡ªif he clenched his teeth and kept fighting, he could somehow hold out.

    ng! ng! sh!

    The sound of shing des rang out, both nearby and in the distance. asionally, the screams of those dying could be heard.

    His breathing becamebored, and all around in the darkened night, lights flickered like fireflies.

    Those lights were the traces left by people skilled enough to wield mana inbat. Though they might not be Sword Masters, they were at least capable of infusing their weapons with mana.

    Around these skilled fighters, the chaos seemed to be settling somewhat, and among them was Marie.

    As she struck the defenseless backs of the enemies attempting to climb the watchtower, they began to scatter to the sides.

    Without a solid strategy in ce andcking strong resolve, the enemies, realizing they were losing, dispersed in all directions and scrambled down the slope.

    In the narrow path, dismembered corpses were piled up to the knees, and Marie barely managed to join up with Boribori.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°My, my fingers are a bit¡­ What about Ricky?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Boribori spoke with conviction. Marie found it remarkable how he could be so confident, but there were more urgent matters to deal with right now.

    ¡°Let¡¯s do some first aid first.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡±

    The two of them started walking toward the watchtower. But at that moment, mes suddenly red up from below the high ground. Both of them instinctively whipped their heads in that direction.

    It was Ricardt who had set the fire. In the midst of the chaotic battle, he took what he considered the best course of action in that situation.

    Since friend and foe were indistinguishable anyway, Ricardt had charged into the enemy camp and set their supplies on fire.

    He ambushed those enemies who had stayed far from the fight, thinking they¡¯d be safe in their makeshift base, killed them, and then set everything aze using nearby campfires and torches.

    The fire quickly grew, illuminating the Kaitz high ground in ce of the sun. The eerie, reddish glow reached halfway up the slope, casting light on the chaotic battlefield that had been hidden in darkness.

    The enemies fighting on the high ground were hit hard psychologically by the sudden mes. Regardless of how many of them there were, the thought shed through their minds that they now had no way to retreat.

    Moreover, the majority of the corpses strewn around were, by all appearances, their own allies. If it had been darker, they might not have noticed, but seeing it so clearly made them suddenly fearful. Are we losing?

    And there, Ricardt was making his way back up the high ground, sword in hand. He didn¡¯t run; he was climbing slowly.

    What was astounding was that he wasn¡¯t retreating into the shadows after his surprise attack, but instead, he was boldly advancing upward, in full view of the numerous enemies.

    His crimson cloak billowed behind him, making him look evenrger. The shadow beneath his feet expanded like a giant¡¯s and wavered with each step.

    Ricardt¡¯s breaths were rough and heavy. He was calcting, like a machine, how many more enemies he could kill with the strength he had left. Dozens of strategies shed through his mind in response.

    That guy is clumsy, that one has some skill, that one¡¯s nearly out of stamina, if I maneuver to the right, I can take advantage of the nk¡­ Thoughts like these spun rapidly in his head.

    Moreover, the enemies¡¯ weapons, their condition, all these things entered his mind and were processed even without conscious effort.

    Ricardt looked at his enemies with eyes that weren¡¯t filled with fear, courage, or madness, but rather with a deep, calcting focus.

    To the eyes of those standing in stunned silence, watching Ricardt, he no longer looked human. There was an inexplicable aura emanating from him. This bastard¡­ he¡¯s not human.

    Then, one person broke and ran. With that as the trigger, the others followed suit, fleeing without a second thought.

    As Ricardt continued climbing the high ground, he stopped and looked around as the enemies in front of him scattered. He seemed to be surveying the scene, turning his head to take it all in.

    Corpsesy scattered around him, and the terrifying ze below illuminated Ricardt.

    As if it were a staged scene, it was incredibly frightening to those watching from afar. His giant shadow dancing as if in joy.

    There were the dead lying on the ground, the ones who had fled, and Ricardt, standing there alone. The contrast was stark.

    From a distance, Reinhardt also watched Ricardt. He too was nearly drenched in the blood of his enemies, yet seeing Ricardt¡¯s figure reminded him of the first time he¡¯did eyes on Steiner.

    In this world, there are beings who walk among us that are not human. A human cannot kill a monster. Only another monster can kill a monster. That was Reinhardt¡¯s belief.

    In the end, the boy with the crimson cloak wasn¡¯t human either.

    But in Ricardt¡¯s eyes, the scenery around him felt familiar. No, it was andscape he¡¯d known well, one he¡¯d almost forgotten.

    Fire and steel, blood, and death. All of it was vivid before his eyes, and he could smell it, too. Past and present ovepped in his vision.

    Perhaps because of his exhaustion, Ricardt¡¯s hearing felt muffled. He could barely make out other sounds; all he could hear was the loud beat of his heart and his heavy breathing.

    It felt as if a hand had suddenly reached out from the abyss, grabbing his ankle and pulling him down. Down into deep waters, or perhaps¡­ back into the past.

    *****

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 Chapter 52

    Chapter 52

    <strong>Trantor: Willia</strong>

    A man without a head was holding his head under his left arm. Ricardt was staring at the back of this person.

    As he slowly turned around to face Ricardt, it was none other than Steiner.

    The head, separated from where it should be, opened its mouth and spoke as if still alive.

    ¡°What difference is there between you and me?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re far worse than I am. Compared to you, I¡¯m nothing more than a mere minion of the devil King. Isn¡¯t that right?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°I simply never had them. A happy family, decent friends. The gods, the world didn¡¯t allow it, so is that my fault?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    Ricardt wanted to open his mouth and say something, but no words woulde out. The frustration was enough to drive him mad.

    Steiner scoffed with a ¡®Hmph¡¯, then spoke onest time before walking off into some unknown depth of the abyss.

    ¡°Life is suffering, and reality is hell, my friend. I understand that much.¡±

    Ricardt wanted to run after Steiner, grab him, and yell that they were different. But his arms and legs wouldn¡¯t move, and his words were stuck in his throat.

    Overwhelmed by the frustration, he struggled desperately, and with a scream, he jolted awake from the nightmare, sitting up abruptly.

    But as soon as he woke, he felt someone¡¯s head resting on his chest.

    ¡°Aagh!¡±

    ¡°Ah! You scared me!¡±

    Instinctively, Ricardt reacted. He grabbed the unknown person¡¯s hair, yanked it back, and reached for the dagger by his bedside, preparing to strike.

    The tip of the dagger stopped just under Marie¡¯s chin.

    Ricardt, his eyes wide with shock, stared at Marie. Marie, her head pulled back, also looked back at him in surprise.

    Their faces were close enough that they might as well have kissed. They could feel each other¡¯s startled breaths.

    Ricardt shuddered, quickly released her hair, and withdrew the dagger.

    ¡°S-Sorry.¡±

    ¡°N-No, it¡¯s fine.¡±

    Gathering hisposure, Ricardt looked around. They were in a tent, and Boribori was asleep in the corner under a nket, snoring soundly. Two of his fingers were wrapped tightly in bandages.

    A damp towely on the floor nearby, likely one that had been ced on his forehead.

    ¡°You were groaning in your sleep, and I thought you might have a fever¡­¡±

    Marie said, smoothing down her hair.

    ¡°Sorry. Really sorry. I had a bad dream. I¡¯m usually not like this, I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    An awkward silence filled the air. Ricardt, feeling embarrassed, touched his forehead and picked up the damp towel.

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing, we¡¯re just helping each other.¡±

    ¡°Did you get some sleep?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°You probably couldn¡¯t sleep well because of me.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s okay¡­¡±

    Ricardt was still feeling a bit out of it, when he suddenly noticed that his shirt was open in the front. Wait a second, wasn¡¯t someone¡¯s head resting on my chest just now?

    ¡°Well, um, it¡¯s just¡­ because I needed to listen to your heartbeat. It¡¯s standard procedure for patients.¡±

    Marie stammered, flustered.

    Ricardt tilted his head, doubtful. Was there really such a thing?

    ¡°Is that so? Anyway, thank you. Try to get some rest. I feel wide awake now.¡±

    ¡°I-I¡¯ve slept enough too. I¡¯m fine.¡±

    Ricardt couldn¡¯t shake off his feelings of guilt and gratitude. Since he was fully awake anyway, he fixed his clothing and stepped outside the tent. The sky was already beginning to brighten.

    He could see some members of the Widowmakers n keeping watch, while Volka and Delphi were sleeping in each other¡¯s arms in a tent with closed entrance.

    Surprisingly, there had been no casualties among their alliesst night. Even the enemies had suffered less damage than expected. A quick look around the high ground revealed only about a dozen bodies.

    Most of them had either pushed each other, mistakenly stabbed or shed one another, or rolled down the slope and fatally hit their heads on the rocks.

    The mes that had zed throughout the night were now smoldering, releasing faint trails of smoke. Strangely, however, the enemies hadn¡¯t fled far; they were still lingering around the Kaitz area, either sleeping or wandering about.

    It was hard to understand. If they had been regr soldiers, they would have fled all the way back to their hometowns. But since they were adventurers, they didn¡¯t seem all that shaken by defeat.

    In fact, most of them didn¡¯t even consider it a personal loss if the guild was the one that lost. That mindset was typical among lower-rank adventurers.

    Only intermediate-level adventurers or above, those whose positions were closely tied to the guild¡¯s sess or failure, were truly affected by the guild¡¯s fortune.

    As the day began to brighten, Ricardt suddenly turned his head to look at the eastern horizon.

    Though the sun hadn¡¯t appeared yet, it was already making its presence felt, casting a faint blue glow from below the distant horizon.

    Ricardt sat down and waited for the sun to rise. And beside him, Marie sat down too, gazing at the same spot.

    Then, Ricardt felt something gently resting on his shoulder.

    ¡°If you¡¯re going to lean, do itfortably. You look exhausted.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Wh-what? Is it really okay?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re already leaning, so why ask?¡±

    Ricardt let out a soft chuckle and gently wrapped his arm around Marie¡¯s waist, pulling her closer.

    Marie, surprised, nearly froze, but Ricardt held her head, guiding it to rest on his shoulder. Marie was terrified he might hear her heart racing.

    Ricardt quietly watched the sunrise. Although the sun rose and set every day, the grand spectacle was somehow always deeply moving.

    The sun peeked over the horizon, then slowly climbed up, stretching beams of light across the whole world in an instant. Who could ever hope to imitate such a sight?

    With a humbled heart, Ricardt watched the dawn alongside Marie.

    ¡°Ricky.¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ never mind.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Just saying, it¡¯s nice being together.¡±

    ¡°Me too.¡±

    The words exchanged were neither light nor heavy. But there seemed to be a slight disconnect in their hearts. Marie sensed this delicate difference. And so, she thought, This is enough as it is.

    As time passed, people began to wake up one by one. Reinhardt, up early, went to relieve himself at the base of a rocky cliff. He had drunk so much alcohol that his stream went on for an impressively long time.

    ¡°Ahh, that¡¯s refreshing.¡±

    Volka, Delphi, and even Boribori woke up, and the five of them gathered around a campfire, having breakfast. As usual, it was potatoes, sweet potatoes, and smoked ham.

    ¡°Hey,st night was awesome. Honestly, I was a little scared, but it turned out to be nothing much.¡±

    Volka said, handing a sweet potato to Delphi first. But Ricardt shook his head.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t going to work.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Why? Didn¡¯t you say it was doable?¡±

    ¡°The enemies aren¡¯t retreating as much as I¡¯d thought. In the long run, this isn¡¯t good.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t we just fight like we did yesterday?¡±

    ¡°No, we can¡¯t. That was just a gamble, not a nned fight. When incidents happen, we can¡¯t just act ording to the situation each time. We might win once or twice, but if we keep relying on luck, eventually a single mistake could cost us everything.¡±

    Since it was a chaotic battle between unorganized groups, even Ricardt couldn¡¯t predict what might happen.

    Though he analyzed and adapted to the situation based on his experiences from the past life, he wasn¡¯t fixated on that knowledge alone. Guild wars were new to him as well, so he kept observing.

    First of all, no one knew what kind of unexpected situations might ur. Without a propermander, and even if there was one, adventurers rarely followed orders, anything could happen at any time.

    Therefore, when a situation arises, the right judgment and actions must be taken to gain an advantage within that situation. However, with things progressing this way, the side with fewer people would inevitably be at a disadvantage.

    ¡°So what are we supposed to do? That pig doesn¡¯t seem like the type to listen.¡±

    Volka said, gesturing toward the defensive tower. Ricardt sighed through his nose before replying.

    ¡°For now, there shouldn¡¯t be any immediate issues. The enemies took a heavy hit too. But in the long term, we¡¯ll need support from headquarters. At the very least, headquarters should be informed about the situation here.¡±

    Ricardt wanted to understand the overall dynamics of the battlefield. But for now, he couldn¡¯t know for certain. He didn¡¯t even know how the battle was progressing or if they truly had no allies.

    ¡°Who¡¯s going to go?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the only one who knows where headquarters is, Volka. Go with Delphi.¡±

    ¡°Will that be alright?¡±

    Losing two people might not seem like a big deal, but it would actually make a significant difference in theirbat strength. They had very few members to begin with, the Vi n only had five people. Plus, Boribori had injured fingers.

    ¡°Bori, are you okay?¡±

    Ricardt asked, ncing at Boribori¡¯s fingers.

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t just say it, are you really okay?¡±

    ¡°I used a potion on them. It feels like a waste though.¡±

    ¡°Still, don¡¯t move your fingers recklessly for at least three days.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡±

    Ricardt turned back to Volka and continued.

    ¡°Let¡¯s do it this way. We¡¯ll monitor the situation for a few days, and if it seems manageable, then you two can head to headquarters.¡±

    ¡°That sounds good.¡±

    With this, the Vi n set their own course of action. It would be great if they could coordinate with the Widowmakers n, but Ricardt was concerned about whether they could actuallymunicate effectively.

    When Ricardt approached Reinhardt to ask what he nned to do next, it seemed that Reinhardt, after seeing Ricardt in action the previous day, wasn¡¯t his usual boisterous self. Instead, he mumbled awkwardly.

    ¡°I just¡­ n to keep holding this position¡­¡±

    ¡°But you attacked recklessly yesterday.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s because those bastards were acting dishonorably.¡±

    ¡°So who¡¯s going to guard the defensive tower?¡±

    ¡°Well, we defended it anyway, didn¡¯t we?¡±

    Ricardt was at a loss for words. Wow, what kind of logic was that?

    But he had a clear realization. The very idea of trying tomand adventurers ording to his own will was wed. Adventurers were not soldiers, and guilds and ns were not armies.

    In any case, the Vi n decided on their independent course of action, and as for the Widowmakers, they would try to coordinate with them as best as possible on a case-by-case basis.

    Ricardt observed the enemy from the high ground. They didn¡¯t look anything like defeated stragglers. And it seemed they, too, were acting independently.

    Some groups appeared to be moving with the intent of staying out of the conflict, while others seemed to be off gathering supplies.

    Out of the roughly 80 people in the enemy force, about 40 had dispersed and were heading elsewhere.

    A few individuals who seemed to be at the level of n leaders or higher were gathered and conversing. Judging by the hand-waving and head-shaking, it appeared that they, too, were struggling to reach a consensus.

    Around noon, a group of people suddenly began climbing up the high ground. It wasn¡¯t as if they were following orders, they were just doing as they pleased.

    ¡°Hey! Red Cloak Ricky! Let¡¯s have a duel!¡±

    A towering, bare-chested man with a massive two-handed sword resting on his shoulder shouted out.

    In terms of weapon ssification, a ¡®two-handed sword¡¯ was evenrger than a greatsword. In his previous life, Ricardt had used a greatsword.

    The opponent¡¯s sword was longer than Ricardt¡¯s height, from the hilt to the tip. It looked quite intimidating at a nce.

    But Ricardt dashed forward as if he had been waiting for this moment. In truth, Ricardt was just as prone to acting on his own whims.

    Ricardt¡¯s decision to step forward wasn¡¯t about showing off or proving himself, it was based on a calcted judgment that killing a skilled enemy during a chaotic situation could be beneficial. This was not an act of bravado.

    As Ricardt stepped up, unlike the previous day, the members of the Widowmakers n and his friends also came down. They scanned the surroundings thoroughly, keeping an eye out for any potential ambushes.

    The enemies, seemingly understanding the intent behind this, designated a t area on the high ground as the dueling site.

    Ricardt¡¯s opponent, perhaps attempting to intimidate him, spread his long arms wide, making his already towering figure appear evenrger.

    ¡°I am Falk, the ¡®Iron Horn¡¯ of Tanburk!¡±

    But Ricardt wasn¡¯t one to be cowed by such antics. He simply drew his sword and tossed the scabbard towards hisrades.

    ¡°Vi n, Ricky.¡±

    And so, the duel began. The man wielding the massive sword swung it in wide arcs, creating arge circle with each sweep, all the while cautiously measuring the distance.

    Ricardt held his longsword in one hand, resting the t of the de on his shoulder. He didn¡¯t take any specific stance; instead, he calmly walked around Falk, circling him.

    As he subtly closed the distance, Falk, no novice himself, suddenly swung his enormous sword powerfully towards Ricardt.

    Whoosh!

    The sword was so massive that Ricardt could feel the wind pressure from its swing. The reach was beyond imagination, and the destructive power was formidable.

    But Ricardt ducked low, almost grazing the ground with his upper body, and pressed forward towards his opponent. His sword rested on one shoulder, and his other hand braced against the ground.

    Falk realized his attack had missed. However, due to his long reach, he managed to retreat quickly. But as Ricardt relentlessly closed the gap, Falk swung his massive leg in a kick.

    At that moment, Ricardt nted his foot on the ground and swung his sword with full force.

    Whoosh!

    Thunk!

    Falk¡¯s knee was severed. He clenched his eyes shut in pain.

    His body tipped to the side, and before his head even touched the ground, before he could even let out a scream, his neck was sliced through.

    As soon as Ricardt had cut Falk¡¯s leg, he¡¯d immediately brought his sword up and struck. His skill with the de was almost supernatural.

    Whish!

    Thud!

    Thump.

    Therge man copsed, blood spurting out as hey there, missing one leg and his head. Ricardt rested his sword on his shoulder and scanned the enemies. His breathing remained steady, his inhale and exhale calm and controlled.

    What was surprising, however, was that no one seemed particrly frightened. Most of them looked like they had just watched an impressive performance, some even looking as if they were about to apud. To them, it was an entertaining show.

    Just as nobles didn¡¯t see it as their duty to die for their country, adventurers didn¡¯t care much about others¡¯ deaths unless they were in the same n. They simply watched in admiration and curiosity.

    However, a few individuals in the crowd observed Ricardt with a sharp, intense gaze.

    Falk¡¯srades approached and retrieved his body.

    Ricardt, as if to ask if anyone else wanted to challenge him, walked slowly around, looking at the enemies. Seeing that no one else was stepping forward, he returned to the defensive tower.

    The next day, another challenger requested a duel, and the day after that, yet another. It seemed that they were putting their heads together, analyzing Ricardt¡¯s fighting style, and trying to find a way to counter it.

    But every challenger met the same fate, they all died. Ricardt¡¯s fighting style had no set pattern that could be easily broken down.

    In fact, those who attempted to counter his swordsmanship in an awkward way often ended up unable to use their full strength and died without a proper fight.

    But as the days passed, something astonishing happened. Civilians began gathering around Kaitz, and soon they settled down as if intending to stay.

    The reason they came was simple: they wanted to watch the duels.

    In an era where public executions were a form of entertainment, duels fought to the death became a rare spectacle for the people.

    Ricardt had no idea what to make of this situation. Was this what guild wars were supposed to be like?

    *****

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 Chapter 53

    Chapter 53

    <strong>Trantor: Willia</strong>

    Under the warm sunlight, the area near the hignds of Kaitz was bustling with people, as if ate spring festival was being held.

    An inn powered by a waterwheel, turned by the flow of the valley stream, stood by the roadside. Since it couldn¡¯t amodate everyone, many people had set up tents outside to stay.

    The reason why so many people had gathered here was to watch fights.

    In an era when even public executions of criminals were treated as spectacle, no one would want to miss the rare sight of a duel between skilled fighters.

    As people gathered, merchants who smelled money naturally followed, and, like a snowball rolling down a hill, even more people kept flocking to the area.

    In one spot, which could be mistaken for a festival ground, someone had apparently brought a goat, skinned it, and was roasting it as a whole barbecue. Arge crowd gathered around, listening to someone¡¯s story.

    The smell of roasting meat made their mouths water, and the loud story being told was equally enticing.

    ¡°I saw it! I really did! It¡¯s true! I was there that day! When Red Cloak ughtered dozens all by himself, it was like a demon had appeared!¡±

    The storyteller spoke with conviction. His persuasiveness was so strong that he might have been better off switching careers to this instead of being an adventurer.

    Some people listened to his words intently, while others half-dismissed them, chuckling. Demon? What demon?

    ¡°What did this demon look like?¡±

    Someone asked.

    ¡°Red Cloak isn¡¯t that tall, but his shadow, I swear¡ªit grew as big as that mountain over there! If that¡¯s not a demon, what is it?!¡±

    Depending on the angle and intensity of the light, shadows could stretch long and appearrge. It¡¯s easy to perceive things like that if one is frightened and caught off guard.

    Especially for people without scientific knowledge or formal education, such a sight could only seem supernatural.

    ¡°Anyway, how did Eberstein die? I mean the Second Sword of the Three Swords n. Tell us more about that.¡±

    Another person asked, clearly uninterested in the talk of demons and such.

    However, the storyteller hadn¡¯t seen it clearly due to the darkness and didn¡¯t have much to say on the matter.

    But, feeling a sense of obligation from the curious gazes of the people around him, he started rambling on.

    ¡°I thought it was just a duel between the two of them, but someone else jumped in midway. And they seemed to throw something wrong and hit their own ally. So, well, Red Cloak ended up killing them both. Those Three Swords or whatever they¡¯re called were nothing but cowards. I was shocked too, you know? I was like, ¡®Huh? Is this really happening?¡¯ I got all confused. And in that confusion, we got pushed back and all our supplies got burned! So, really, we lost that day all because of those Three Swords n bastards.¡±

    There was one thing the storyteller got wrong. It wasn¡¯t a mistaken throw that hit their own ally; it was Ricardt who had caught the thrown dagger mid-air and immediately hurled it at Eberstein.

    However, he had been some distance away at the time, and it was dark, so he could have seen it that way. He wasn¡¯t lying on purpose¡ªjust exaggerating and interpreting things in his own way.

    The problem was that people like him didn¡¯t care whether the Guild won or lost. Why? Because it didn¡¯t affect them personally. And, remarkably, that¡¯s exactly how they thought.

    The storyteller was nothing more than a low-ranked adventurer, who wouldn¡¯t gain anything if the Guild seeded nor suffer a loss if it failed.

    He had no intention of risking his life in a fight, and if it seemed like they were going to lose, he would simply flee.

    On the other hand, those for whom the rise or fall of the Guild mattered were at least intermediate-level adventurers or higher.

    Moreover, there were people whose reputations and fame were their livelihoods. For known ns, if rumors spread that they were cowards or ipetent, it could be fatal.

    Not only would it affect their ability to make a living, but sometimes, pride, something more important than mere sustenance, wouldn¡¯t allow it.

    ¡°That can¡¯t be true.¡±

    Someone sharply denied the storyteller¡¯s words. Dressed in a cloak, it was hard to discern his exact appearance, but the bulge at his waist suggested he was armed with a sword.

    ¡°Uh, huh? Were you there that day too?¡±

    ¡°No. I just know. And let me give you a warning. I don¡¯t care what nonsense you¡¯re spouting, but you¡¯d better watch what you say about the n. Unless you want your tongue cut out.¡±

    A murderous glint flickered in his eyes from beneath the shadow of his hood. The storyteller, taken aback, fell silent.

    Naturally, people¡¯s gazes turned toward the cloaked man, but he quickly left the spot and soon disappeared into the crowd.

    The smell of roasting goat was gradually overtaken by other odors and grew fainter as he reached the path leading up to the hignds.

    However, that path was blocked off by a makeshift fence, with people lined up in a long queue.

    ¡°The next duel will take ce before the sun sets over the ridge! If you want to enter, do so now!¡±

    A man shouted through a funnel-like megaphone, his voice echoing like a town crier¡¯s.

    Of course, it wasn¡¯t free to enter; they had to pay. And the admission fee was getting more expensive by the day.

    Those without money climbed the mountain on the opposite side to watch from a distance. Even now, people who had gone up early were peeking down from above.

    Seeing this, it was clear that the Guild was no less shameless. Were they trying to wage war or put on a show?

    But there was an unavoidable aspect to this arrangement, as it allowed them to filter out riffraff like the storyteller from before and maintain control over the scene. Plus, it was a nice way to make some extra money.

    The man in the cloak and hood ignored the long line and walked straight toward the fence. People naturally watched him, but his unusual air kept anyone from trying to stop him.

    The person guarding the fence noticed him and asked.

    ¡°Are you with a n?¡±

    ¡°Three Swords n. First Sword, Gramschvitz.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. But there¡¯s a duel in order,so you¡¯ll just have to wait and see.¡±

    The adventurer guarding the fence let him pass without charging an entrance fee. Those with verified skills, especially those who held a grudge against Red Cloak, were allowed to enter freely.

    After passing through the fence and walking for a while, he could see the top of a watchtower above the hignds. The area around him still bore many scorch marks from recent battles.

    Adventurers gathered in groups with people they knew, scattered around here and there, while the wealthy spectators who had paid for entry had already spread out mats and taken the best spots. They were friends or couples.

    Gramschvitz looked around and noticed that there were a few people like himself who hade alone. Their serious, expressionless faces and intense atmosphere made them look dangerous even from a distance.

    The people seemed to fall into three main categories: those who hade just to watch the spectacle, those who hade to kill Red Cloak and make a name for themselves, and finally, those who hade solely to kill Red Cloak, with fame being a secondary concern.

    Themon thread among all of them was that the Guild War was of little importance, and their interest centered solely on Red Cloak.

    The rumor that Red Cloak had killed one of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords had already spread widely.

    Initially, opinions were divided. Was the rumor true or false? If it was true, was it merely luck, or had it been exaggerated?

    But as time passed, people began to say that not only had he indeed killed one of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords, but that he might even be worthy of taking one of those esteemed positions himself.

    Red Cloak, Ricky. His name was gaining weight with each passing day. Moreover, he was now being hailed as the greatest genius of all time. The genius who, at the age of twelve, killed one of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords and took that position.

    To a casual listener, it sounded unbelievable. Yet he was proving it, not just once, but multiple times over the past few days. Today marked a week since the first battle had taken ce.

    ¡°Hawk w Gramschvitz? Is that you?¡±

    Someone called out from behind. When Gramschvitz turned around, he saw a middle-aged man with short hair and a brown beard, apanied by three or four others.

    ¡°So it¡¯s you. I am Wolfgang, n Master of the Heigen Guild. Are you here for revenge?¡±

    A n Master was someone who managed multiple ns under the Guild Master, much like Lorenz, whom Ricardt had previously killed.

    The Three Swords n had only three members, who were all brothers: First Sword, Hawk w Gramschvitz, Second Sword, Hawk Wing Eberstein, and Third Sword, Hidden de Elrich.

    Their unique technique involved the two older brothers drawing attention while the youngest would finish off the opponent with throwing daggers. This method was almost like a secret art known only to them.

    Their tactic was so clever and refined that no one who faced it had ever survived. Because of this, the technique was little known, and they had a reputation for always seeding in their assignments.

    However, with two brothers killed overnight, only the eldest remained. With this, the n was essentially disbanded.

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°If revenge is your goal, join us. You won¡¯t have a chance in a duel. Red Cloak is the real deal. Watch himter, and think about it.¡±

    With that, Wolfgang moved away. Gramschvitz remained silent.

    As time passed, the sun reached its peak and then slowly began to sink, drawing closer to the mountain ridge.

    A group of people descended from the hignds. Among them, a boy in a red cloak caught Gramschvitz¡¯s eye. He had a young face filled with an air of youth and innocence, with blonde hair.

    For his age, he was tall and had a well-built physique, though it was clear his growth wasn¡¯t yet fullyplete, and his frame hadn¡¯t fully matured.

    When Ricardt appeared, the murmurs in the crowd fell silent. The main event of the day was about to begin.

    There had been one duel per day, sometimes even two. Today marked the twelfth duel since the battles had started a week ago.

    Sixteen people had died so far because Ricardt fought without regard for the number of opponents.

    The results spoke for themselves. Despite his young age, he was proving himself worthy of a ce among the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords.

    What was even more surprising was that he fought these duels publicly. Most warriors preferred private duels with minimal witnesses to avoid exposing their secret techniques or risking their swordsmanship being analyzed.

    Was he arrogant or simply fearless? They would soon find out.

    Ricardt took off his cloak and handed it to a young female swordsman nearby. Carrying only a single sword, he stepped into the dueling ground, where his opponent, bare-chested and wielding a round shield and sword, awaited him.

    Members from the Beringen Guild and the allied faction had set up the dueling area and prevented people from approaching.

    Under the warm sunlight, the bare-chested man rotated his shoulders, taking exaggerated deep breaths. Then he let out a battle cry.

    ¡°Hup! Hup! Ah-ja! Ah-ja! Ah-jaja!¡±

    It seemed like he was trying to release as much tension as possible for this life-or-death fight. Meanwhile, Ricardt showed no particr reaction¡ªneither overly confident nor especially tense. He simply drew his sword in a calm manner.

    Ricardt¡¯s opponent spread his arms wide, brandishing his sword and shield, and shouted loudly.

    ¡°I am Rischlen, the Heart Ripper of Muerheim! Today, I¡¯ll defeat you and im my ce among the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords!¡±

    Though he shouted with a gruff voice, his nervousness was still obvious. Ricardt drew his sword and casually tossed the empty scabbard back toward his allies, then responded.

    ¡°Vi n, Ricky.¡±

    With the introductionsplete, the duel began. The crowd watched with bated breath.

    Those who had already seen multiple duels held no particr anticipation for the oue. They were merely curious to see what new techniques Ricardt might disy this time.

    Rischlen approached carefully, using his shield to lead, as if he were hunting a wild beast. His steps were tentative, almost shuffling, with his feet barely leaving the ground to be ready to react at any moment.

    Ricardt stood still, letting his sword hang loosely at his side. Rischlen, seemingly startled for no reason, quickly backed off, then resumed his cautious approach. He repeated this five times.

    ¡°Huff! Huff! Huff!¡±

    They hadn¡¯t exchanged a single blow, yet Rischlen was already sweating and breathing heavily, his tension apparent.

    Just as Ricardt tilted his head slightly, as if bored, Rischlen seized the opportunity, charging fiercely with his shield up, determined not to miss that single moment.

    However, Ricardt smoothly dodged to the side. Despite his tension, Rischlen adapted with surprising agility, swinging his shield toward Ricardt¡¯s new position and shing with his sword.

    Whoosh! Swish!

    Ricardt simply widened the gap, leaning back slightly to avoid the attacks. Rischlen quickly pulled back again, holding his shield in front.

    Then, suddenly, a jolt of pain struck Rischlen¡¯s head, and he lost consciousness. Ricardt had kicked him in the head.

    Rischlen¡¯s vision had been obscured by his own shield, allowing Ricardt tond a high kick from his blind spot.

    With a dull thud, Rischlen copsed to the ground, his head hitting the dirt. He waspletely knocked out in one blow, his body limp and motionless.

    Ricardt stood over him, looking down quietly, then turned around and simply walked away. He hadn¡¯t even swung his sword. He proceeded up the path toward the watchtower alongside the members of the Beringen Guild.

    With the duel concluded, the paying spectators began voicing theirints.

    ¡°This is it?¡±

    ¡°Send out a real opponent next time!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re charging us three silver coins for this kind of crap?¡±

    ¡°Well, since we¡¯re here, why don¡¯t you at least execute the loser or hang him or something!¡±

    But the Guild Alliance adventurers ignored the crowd¡¯sints and started ushering them out.

    ¡°Hey, listen to me!¡±

    ¡°No, no, this is ridiculous. Honestly, this is too much!¡±

    ¡°Everyone! The duel¡¯s over! Out! Get out!¡±

    Like herding sheep, the adventurers drove themon folk down from the hignds. The disappointed spectators grumbled as they left, muttering that they¡¯d been swindled or that the Heigen and other guilds were pathetic.

    Rischlen eventually regained consciousness, but he couldn¡¯t stand on his own and had to be supported by hisrades.

    Gramschvitz watched the entire scene in silence as Wolfgang approached him again.

    ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°¡­It¡¯s too soon to be certain, but he has no habits or predictable patterns. No constraints either. There are no signs of formal training from anyone. Honestly, it¡¯s hard to believe. To reach that level at his age¡­¡±

    It was a remarkable insight. Even after witnessing a fight that was almostically one-sided, Gramschvitz had managed to grasp the essence of the situation.

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±

    Wolfgang nodded somberly, acknowledging Gramschvitz¡¯s assessment.

    ¡°All the capable fighters who entered the duels died three days ago. Only guys like that one are left now. The rest of the skilled ones don¡¯t care about the duels. So, what do you want to do? If you¡¯re willing, we can set up a duel for you as soon as tomorrow.¡±

    In other words, the only strong fighters left were those who sought to kill Ricardt purely for revenge, not for fame. They were willing to use any means necessary.

    By doing so, they could restore their tarnished honor, settle personal grudges, or gain an advantage in the war. Each person¡¯s objective was finally converging into a single purpose.

    After a moment of thought, Gramschvitz asked, half-agreeing.

    ¡°What¡¯s the n?¡±

    ¡°Follow me.¡±

    Gramschvitz followed Wolfgang, the n Master of the Heigen Guild, to a secluded area.

    Ricardt was watching them intently from above. The location of the watchtower itself doubled as an observation post, allowing him to see the entire surrounding area.

    Though the people were packed so densely that it was difficult to tell one person from another, Ricardt¡¯s almost supernatural eye for detail made it easy for him to distinguish between the riffraff and those who exuded an unsettling aura.

    Ricardt knew, too. All the worthy opponents who were worth killing in a duel had already died about three days ago, and the remaining skilled ones were undoubtedly plotting something.

    What exactly they were scheming would require some thought, but one thing was clear.

    The true fighters, those who were ready to die, were about to make their move.

    Ricardt sensed instinctively that if he was going to defend this watchtower to the end, he would need to stop those guys.

    And Ricardt also knew that people with extraordinary resolve were more difficult to deal with than those with mere sword mastery.

    To face such people, it wasn¡¯t about technique or skill. He, too, would need to have a simr resolve.

    But what did Ricardt hold in his heart at this moment? Unlike in his past life, there was no burning resentment or anger directed at the world, no bitter self-hatred.

    Loyalty to the guild? Just as otherscked that, Ricardt felt no particr loyalty either. It was only Volka¡¯s words that lingered somewhere in his mind.

    ¡®I¡¯m going to clear out some emptynd and make an estate of our own. I¡¯ll live there with Delphi. Until we¡¯re old and ready to die.¡¯

    Yes, someday, I too¡­

    However vague, Ricardt also had a modest dream. In his mind, he saw his old friends smiling. For that vision, he was willing to risk his life.

    Revenge and dreams. Here on the Kaitz Hignds, those two things intersected. Even if it was just a spectacle to some.

    Who was right and who was wrong? Who was just and who was in the wrong? There was no need to ponder such things.

    Because no one in this world was without their own story, and especially in the death of a swordsman, there was no room for excuses.

    So there was no need to get sentimental. Even if he were to lose and die, he resolved to hold no resentment, no regrets. If anything, that was Ricardt¡¯s resolve.

    *****

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 Chapter 54

    Chapter 54

    In any battle, the biggest challenge in defense was theck of initiative.

    Not knowing when the opponent would strike made one naturally on edge, and it was more mentally exhausting than one might think.

    While they didn¡¯t have to worry about food supplies, Ricardt and his friendscked a reliable wall to rely on.

    There wasn¡¯t even a trench or stakes around the watchtower, leaving them without the most basic defensive facilities.

    Adventurers would rather die than pick up a shovel. This was the biggest difference from a regr army. In an actual army, soldiers spent far more time holding shovels and pickaxes than weapons.

    Moreover, it had been three days since Volka and Delphi left, with no sign of their return. Worrying about friends was also one of the things that wore down their mental stamina.

    It wasn¡¯t just Ricardt who sensed that a real attack was imminent. But the question was¡ªwhen?

    Below the high ground, there was a festival-like atmosphere every day. It was rare for people to gather inrge numbers outside of vigemunities, so they seemed simply excited and merry.

    People would keeprge fires burning even at night, grilling meat, singing songs, or dancing. Minstrels yed lutes, and jesters performed amusing antics.

    Since everything below could be seen clearly from above, even couples sharing physical affection in secluded spots were visible.

    ¡°Ugh! You shameless horny bastards! Take this!¡±

    Perhaps irritated by the sight of intimacy, the members of the Widowmakers n would throw excrement or stones at the couples.

    When the couples, startled, hurriedly gathered their clothes and fled, the Widowmakersughed and cackled as if it was the most amusing thing.

    Reinhardt, meanwhile, enjoyed the festival atmosphere, drinking himself silly, while Ricardt, Boribori, and Marie took turns guarding the suspension bridge.

    A round full moon hung in the night sky. It was a brighter night than usual. When moonlight was this bright, it almost felt like morning.

    Under the strangely bright moonlight in the pleasantly cool temperature, Ricardt was warming himself by the campfire with Marie.

    However, Marie kept inching closer to him, and Ricardt subtly moved away. Then she woulde closer again, and he would move away again. This repeated a few times.

    Ricardt, being somewhat perceptive, understood the girl¡¯s feelings to some extent by now. But once or twice was fine; if she kept doing this, it became troublesome.

    When Ricardt consciously kept avoiding her, Marie, a bit embarrassed, finally spoke up.

    ¡°Um, Ricky¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°I mean, you know¡­¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t let our guard down, Marie. We didn¡¯te here to y.¡±

    Ricardt spoke intentionally with a cold tone. Marie, who seemed about to say something, closed her mouth and lowered her head.

    A night with the moonlight this bright could feel special, but right now, it only felt cruel. It was because, rather than soothing the heart, the moonlight seemed to expose it.

    If she¡¯d known it would be like this, she wouldn¡¯t have gotten close. She wouldn¡¯t have spoken up for no reason. Regret over something so trivial surged in Marie¡¯s heart.

    However, just as Ricardt had sensed, something unusual was indeed happening.

    Dozens of people, each holding a torch, were climbing up toward the watchtower.

    Ricardt jumped up, and Marie, who had been looking down, was startled. She, too, soon sensed that something unusual was approaching.

    ¡°Hey!¡±

    Ricardt shouted toward the Widowmakers n. His shout meant they should stop messing around and keep a proper watch on the cliff below.

    At first, the Widowmakers looked confused, wondering what was going on, but they quickly snapped to attention when they saw the dozens of torches. What¡¯s that?

    The people approaching the watchtower weren¡¯t civilians. They all had weapons strapped to their waists. Adventurers.

    As if performing some kind of religious ritual, they strangely did not draw their weapons and remained silent. They merely kept a certain distance, standing still. What¡¯s with them? What are they doing?

    Suddenly, the person guarding the narrow path to the watchtower screamed as blood sprayed.

    ¡°Aagh!¡±

    Ricardt¡¯s head whipped around. Out of nowhere, armed enemies had broken through the entrance and were rushing up. A realbat situation had begun.

    Drawing his sword, Ricardt spoke to Marie.

    ¡°Stick close to Boribori. If things go south, cross the bridge.¡±

    ¡°Ri-Ricky, what about you?¡±

    Ricardt didn¡¯t answer and ran toward the entrance. However, when the person who had killed the guard at the entrance saw Ricardt, he immediately darted off in another direction.

    Then, five or six others, each holding a shield as tall as a person, pressed together and advanced toward Ricardt, pushing forward in a tight formation.

    Ricardt paused, thinking, They¡¯vee prepared.

    With the wall of shields advancing on him, Ricardt found himself with few options and tried to quickly reposition, but the enemies, who had clearlye with a n, weren¡¯t going to let him get away.

    The shield wall surged toward Ricardt, and in an instant, he realized, They¡¯re trying to shove me right off the cliff.

    Meanwhile, dozens of people holding torches stood watching, not engaging in the fight.

    This was because they had been instructed to only join in if victory seemed assured and they didn¡¯t need to fight.

    They were low-ranking, unreliable fighters who didn¡¯t listen well or offer much help; their job was simply to create a distraction.

    Whoever had given the orders had seeded in capturing attention, and it seemed they were a rather clever strategist.

    However, the enemies were holding shields sorge that they blocked their view, and because they were tightly packed, it was difficult for them to change direction quickly.

    One of them briefly poked his head over the top of his shield, and Ricardt, with ghost-like precision, swung his sword. With a crisp tack, the top half of the man¡¯s skull, including his eyes, was neatly sliced off.

    The remaining shield bearers, now in a panic, recklessly charged forward, shoving anyone in their path¡ªincluding an unfortunate member of the Widowmakers n who got caught up in the push.

    Unable to react, the Widowmaker was shoved right over the cliff.

    ¡°Uwaaahhhhhh!¡±

    He iled his arms as he fell, crashing into the crowd of people who were enjoying themselves by therge fire below the high ground. One unlucky person below collided with the falling man, and both died instantly.

    Crash!

    The impact shattered their bones in multiple ces, with jagged fractures piercing through their flesh. The once festive scene below turned into chaos in an instant.

    ¡°Kyaaaaaaah!¡±

    The cliff top was no less of a pandemonium. Reinhardt, who had been drinking when he noticed the enemy attack, he picked up his massive club and began smashing through the shields.

    ¡°You bastards! Perfect timing when I was getting bored!¡±

    Bang!

    His attack was so powerful that he simply shattered the shield, and the nearest enemy had his face wed at and ripped apart by Reinhardt¡¯s outstretched hand.

    With the shield bearers neutralized, Ricardt quickly scanned his surroundings to assess the battle situation.

    The torchbearers, uncertain of whether to advance or not, hesitated, while the enemies of intermediate rank and higher started drawing their weapons and actively engaging inbat.

    Ricardt shouted at the lower-ranked adventurers holding torches.

    ¡°Come any closer, and you¡¯re dead!¡±

    When Ricardt, of all people, shouted at them, they flinched, but simultaneously, the higher-ranked enemies who had heard his voice all targeted Ricardt at once.

    ng! Thud! Shing!

    Finally, Ricardt swung his sword, and the moonlight gleamed brilliantly off the de. And, without fail, he broke an enemy¡¯s sword while cutting a neck and slicing off an arm.

    As Ricardt¡¯s uniquely swift and lethal swordsmanship took down two enemies in a single stroke.

    Witnessing his terrifying skill firsthand, someone shouted,

    ¡°Fall back! Bring thes! Drive him toward the cliff!¡±

    Ricardt realized, ah, this bastard must be the leader. Indeed, having someone who knew how to lead a group made things quite troublesome.

    The n Master of the Heigen Guild, Wolfgang, was directing the battle from a safe distance, well out of Ricardt¡¯s immediate reach.

    As the intermediate-level adventurers moved ording to his orders, they weren¡¯t quite as coordinated as a trained army, but they still managed to corner Ricardt effectively.

    From a distance, they threw projectiles at him, and every time he showed an opening, they casts his way, avoiding direct confrontation. Ricardt, like a hunted tiger, could only keep moving and evading.

    Fundamentally, he was already at a numerical disadvantage, and now the terrain had also turned against him.

    At that moment, Ricardt instinctively realized: these people weren¡¯t here to capture the watchtower¡ªthey were here to kill him.

    As soon as he understood this, Ricardt quickly decided that his best chance was to draw them away from here.

    No sooner had he made this decision than Ricardt leaped off the ridge and ran straight towards the lower-ranking adventurers holding torches.

    ¡°Ahhh!¡±

    The low-level adventurers, startled, scrambled to get out of his way.

    ¡°What the hell are you doing, you idiots? Stop him!¡±

    Wolfgang, enraged and bewildered, screamed at them. But the low-ranking adventurers just internallyined, Weren¡¯t you the one who said we didn¡¯t have to fight?

    Ricardt sped down the high ground, and the senior adventurers who had been waiting to finish him off immediately gave chase.

    Thanks to Ricardt¡¯s tactical judgment, a gap opened up in the enemy¡¯s formation around the watchtower, allowing the Widowmakers n to begin their counterattack.

    With their forces suddenly split in two and all the senior adventurers, the core of their strength, pursuing Ricardt, Wolfgang was momentarily thrown into panic. How did ite to this? We were so close!

    Meanwhile, the low-ranking adventurers holding torches just stood there, staring nkly. What¡¯s going on? Are we losing? Good thing we didn¡¯t fight, we would¡¯ve just been in danger. Phew, what a relief.

    The senior adventurers, on the other hand, had a personal vendetta; they were focused on killing Ricardt to settle scores or restore their n¡¯s tarnished honor. From the start, they had no real interest in capturing the watchtower.

    Caught in the middle, the intermediate-level adventurers found themselves stuck, unable to advance or retreat.

    At that very moment, Boribori, who had been guarding the suspension bridge, finished securing that area and joined the fray in earnest. The intermediate adventurers stood no chance against this new onught.

    ¡°F*ck¡­¡­¡±

    Wolfgang stood frozen in shock, cursing under his breath. And when Boribori¡¯s sword swung toward him, his consciousness faded almost instantly.

    Meanwhile, Ricardt was leading the senior adventurers further down the high ground, steering toward an area free of civilians as he continued to run.

    With his breathing in ragged gasps and his vision blurring, Ricardt found himself encircled by persistent swordsmen who had spread out to surround him.

    One of them finally drew close, and Ricardt halted his run to counterattack.

    However, these were senior adventurers, whose reflexes and physical abilities had been honed to the utmost human limits. They didn¡¯t allow Ricardt any easy openings.

    They had clearlye prepared, abandoning any notion of an honorable duel. Instead, they kept him at a near-but-unreachable distance, focusing solely on maintaining the encirclement.

    Their expressions made it clear: they were hell-bent on killing Ricardt, no matter the cost.

    Both Ricardt and his pursuers were drenched in sweat, their eyes fully focused, showing their unbroken concentration.

    Ricardt could tell just by looking. That these enemies were willing to sacrifice themselves to take him down. And it wasn¡¯t just one or two people¡ªit was ten of them.

    Is this where I die? Is this as far as I go? The thought briefly crossed his mind. But he felt no fear. It was just that¡ªnothing more.

    In this moment of heightened tension, taut as a string, someone suddenly addressed Ricardt in a calm voice. It was Gramschvitz.

    ¡°Do you have a brother? Losing a brother¡­ it¡¯s like losing a limb. That pain and sorrow.¡±

    Though he didn¡¯t know who this person was, Ricardt understood the words, as he, too, had brothers. He could imagine the depth of resentment this man harbored toward him.

    But now wasn¡¯t the time for mutual understanding. The ties bound by vengeance could only be severed with a sword.

    ¡°Hiyaah!¡±

    A shout erupted from behind Ricardt. But instead of turning around, Ricardt charged forward at the enemy in front of him. If someone attacked from behind, they¡¯d be forced to engage in tandem to keep up the pressure.

    Sure enough, this time the enemy in front, abandoning any sense of caution, lunged at Ricardt with his sword, ready to die. Simultaneously, the attackers on both sides moved in with a slight dy.

    Ricardt twisted his upper body, bending his knees tightly, and raised his arms so that the de was pressed close to his torso.

    Pulling his sword with force, his de swung horizontally, deflecting multiple swords at once.

    Chaaang¡ª!

    With that, he created a golden opportunity, and Ricardt gritted his teeth as he swung his sword again.

    Whish! Thud!

    Thump.

    In the end, after deflecting multiple attacks, Ricardt managed to slice halfway through one man¡¯s waist. Though these opponents were considered some of the strongest in their respective regions, they now trembled in fear.

    ¡°Wh-what a monster¡­!¡±

    Even these warriors, prepared to face death, were unnerved.

    But once Ricardt seized an opening, he didn¡¯t let go. He kept pressing his advantage relentlessly.

    He approached the momentarily disoriented enemies with swift steps, swinging and striking his sword from side to side in a wless disy of offense and defense.

    ng! ng! Thud!

    This was no mere swordy¡ªit was on the level of art. If there was only one true swordsmanship in the world, this felt like it.

    Two more men copsed, blood spraying from their bodies. Blood was also trickling down Ricardt¡¯s upper arm.

    As the shadow of death loomed closer, Ricardt felt an odd sense of exhration instead. Like an unnamed storm, he relentlessly drove the enemies back.

    He was like a fierce current of water, like a wild me¡ªboth powerful and precise.

    The swordsmen fighting Ricardt, who had dedicated their lives to the sword, found themselves captivated. How could something be this beautiful?

    But this would only end with Ricardt¡¯s death, or theirs. As three of their ten had fallen in an instant, the remaining enemies retreated to regroup, panting heavily as they steadied their breathing.

    However, their encirclement was no longer perfect, allowing Ricardt to exploit a gap and run back toward the high ground. The enemies, of course, resumed their pursuit.

    And then it happened.

    ¡°Ricky!¡±

    Ricardt looked up in surprise at the high ground. Marie was sprinting down toward him, and Ricardt¡¯s eyes widened at the sight. What? Why?

    The remaining seven swordsmen were also thrown off by the appearance of a new person. However, unlike the Ernburg Five, they weren¡¯t vicious enough to immediately think of taking Marie hostage. Though she wouldn¡¯t have been easily taken hostage anyway.

    Ricardt kept running, and he and Marie finally met midway. Neither spoke a word. They simply ran side by side, looking in the same direction. In a way, it was almost a ridiculous situation.

    As they rounded the mountainside, a field of buckwheat flowers stretched out before them. It looked as if a light snow had fallen, and under the soft moonlight from the round full moon in the sky, the scene was breathtaking.

    Ricardt and Marie ran through the field of flowers. They didn¡¯t know how the situation had led to this, or even why they had to keep running; they just ran. The sound of waist-high grass brushing against them made a swish-swish sound that tickled their ears.

    But they couldn¡¯t run for long. Ahead of themy a sheer cliff.

    And yet, perhaps due to the peculiar madness mingling with the moonlight, a fleeting thought crossed their minds: that it might be okay to just hold hands and leap together.

    Ricardt stopped running and turned around to see the seven swordsmen also standing in the field of buckwheat flowers. Ricardt¡¯s meteoric iron sword and Marie¡¯s true silver sword, along with the seven other swords, all reflected the moonlight.

    Everyone was breathing heavily, their breathsing in ragged gasps. Ricardt spoke.

    ¡°I¡¯ll veer off to the right. Marie, put some distance between us. The enemies wille after me. That¡¯s when you should join the fight.¡±

    Even in this moment, Ricardt was making tactical decisions.

    ¡°No, um¡­¡­¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but¡­ if I don¡¯t say it now, I might never get the chance.¡±

    Ricardt turned to look at Marie. She looked back at him. Both had sweat-soaked blonde hair sticking to their faces.

    Their eyes, one pair shifting between green and brown, the other like blue jewels, were iparably beautiful. They were close enough that if either leaned forward, their lips would meet.

    Ever since their earlier conversation, Marie had been afraid it might be herst chance to speak. But now, she could finally say it. Her heart was pounding.

    ¡°I¡­ I think I like you¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    It was, admittedly, a terrible time for a confession. But the buckwheat field bathed in moonlight was so beautiful that she thought if she didn¡¯t reveal the pure feelings she had carried for the first time in her life now, she might never do it.

    Ricardt was silent for a moment. Then he gave a faint, bittersweet smile and spoke gently.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t believe in things like love. But¡­ I could die for you.¡±

    The boy could understand the resentment his enemies held toward him, but he couldn¡¯tprehend the girl¡¯s pure love. Or rather, to be precise, he couldn¡¯t ept it.

    Because he still believed that love was just another name for the cruelest curse and the seed of misfortune. Love and resentment were very much alike.

    Marie¡¯s mind went nk for a moment, unable to think. Wait, what did he say? I was¡­ rejected?

    Without another word, Ricardt threw himself to the right. As he¡¯d expected, the enemies were wary of Marie but focused their attention on him.

    The sound of grass swishing apanied his movements. Soon, the seven swordsmen and Ricardt shed.

    In the bright moonlit night, the metallic ngs rang out intermittently, and red blood sttered across the field of white buckwheat flowers.

    One by one, they fell, making the buckwheat field their grave. Gramschvitz fell too. One by one, their grudges dropped like withering flowers.

    To Marie¡¯s eyes, Ricardt, wielding his sword, looked more beautiful, more tragic, and more magnificent than ever. That jerk¡­¡­

    But as the wounds on Ricardt¡¯s body began to increase, Marie, half in a daze, found herself running forward to fight alongside him.

    What a strange situation this was: a girl who had just experienced heartbreak now entrusting their lives to each other in battle. Entrusting one¡¯s life is something you can only do with someone you trust most deeply.

    The swordsmen, for their part, didn¡¯t flee, and in the end, all of them fell in the field of buckwheat flowers.

    But it wasn¡¯t just bodies lying there. There, too,y an unfulfilled vengeance and an unrequited first love turned down.

    The round full moon seemed to hold its breath as it watched over them. Neither of them spoke.

    The quiet moonlight, the simple buckwheat flowers, the blood and sweat trickling down the boy¡¯s body, and a single tear rolling down the girl¡¯s cheek¡ªall of these things spoke in ce of words.

    Chapter 10 ¨C Unfulfilled Feelings. End.

 Chapter 55

    Chapter 55

    In a group of ten people, about two of them would be brave. At most, three.

    When these ten people fight against another group, typically those two or three brave ones would take the lead while the rest would simply follow behind.

    If those two or three brave ones were killed, the remaining people would naturally scatter. Therefore, when fighting ten enemies, it wasn¡¯t necessary to kill all ten.

    Just two. Or three. If the core fighting power could be neutralized or driven off, that battle was effectively won.

    When a Senior Adventurer died, it was a huge blow and burden for the guild. This was because it was these Senior Adventurers who determined the guild¡¯s reputation and standing.

    However, when a hundred brave people gather, one among them would be a Hero.

    On a night with an exceptionally bright full moon, ten Senior Adventurers died all at once. And they weren¡¯t the only ones as many had died in duels before that.

    Of course, they weren¡¯t all from the same guild, but it was no small number.

    As a result, the attempt to capture the Kaitz Hignds was naturally thwarted. By one boy Hero.

    The guild alliance, which hadn¡¯t had much trust in each other from the beginning, dissolved, and each guild withdrew from the war.

    Now, they were in a situation where they could barely take care of their own affairs. They¡¯d messed with something that seemed tempting, only to be badly burned and forced to retreat.

    But the war wasn¡¯t over. The guild alliance, including the Heigen Guild, had onlye to scavenge whatever scraps they could get.

    The true enemy of the Beringen Guild was elsewhere. It was the guilds around Siegfringer, led by Brabant.

    The reason the leadership of the Beringen Guild hadn¡¯t properly supported the Kaitz Hignds was because of this.

    They had a real enemy to deal with, so they couldn¡¯t afford to allocate their forces to those who¡¯de just to scavenge.

    However, they couldn¡¯t ignore them entirely either, so it had been a source of frustration¡ªuntil the boy Hero appeared.

    And the appearance of that boy Hero spread beyond the guild, reaching even themon folk.

    The story of how he subdued the notorious Ernburg Five, his twelve duels, and his defeat of the ten vengeful swordsmen spread from mouth to mouth.

    As is often the case with rumors, the stories became embellished, sometimes gruesome, sometimes thrilling.

    In taverns, on the streets, children and adults alike, whether poor or wealthy, highborn or lowborn, from prostitutes to nobledies, whispered the boy Hero¡¯s name. Ricky. Ricky. Ricky¡­

    There was power in that name. Hearing it, speaking it, made hearts race with admiration, desperation, and exhration.

    Of course, people believe what they want to believe, and much of it was drawn from their imagination. So the stories were far from the actual events and the reality of the person involved.

    What, then, was the true feeling of the person behind that much-whispered name? And what was in his heart?

    Only he could know. And it was something he had to bear alone.

    A gust of wind made his red cloak flutter. Ricardt¡¯s figure, standing at the edge of the cliff, looked somewhat precarious.

    If he took a misstep or if someone pushed his unguarded back, he could fall straight down.

    But whether he was unaware of such dangers or simply didn¡¯t care, Ricardt let his hair flutter in the wind as he gazed off into the gentle ridge in the distance.

    ¡°Ricky.¡±

    A familiar voice came from behind. When Ricardt turned around, he saw Boribori.

    ¡°Did you have a fight with Marie?¡±

    Ricardt couldn¡¯t help but smile. Perhaps Boribori was asking because things seemed a bit tense between themtely.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°No? Hmm, it doesn¡¯t seem like a no¡­¡±

    Boribori furrowed his brow, cing his hand on his chin, as he fell into a rather serious contemtion.

    Ricardt found his innocent appearance cute and had to suppress augh, but he didn¡¯t want to discuss matters between men and women in detail. Well, maybe he could tell Boribori a little?

    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ we can¡¯t get any closer than just friends. I think it¡¯ll be okay with time. It¡¯s something that¡¯s out of my control.¡±

    Boribori¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°Getting closer than friends? Is that even possible?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not so sure myself.¡±

    ¡°So even Ricky has things he doesn¡¯t know. If you have something on your mind, just tell me. I¡¯ll listen.¡±

    Somewhere along the way, Boribori had really grown into quite a mature person. It probably started when he met Nameless.

    Ricardt and Boribori were no longer just in a simple leader-follower rtionship. Now, they were friends who supported each other as equals.

    ¡°¡­Yeah, thanks.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re still going to stay friends with Marie, right?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like that too. But it¡¯s not something I can force¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d better go let her know.¡±

    ¡°What? Hey, hey. Hey!¡±

    Boribori turned around and trotted off with a determined stride. Even as Ricardt called out urgently, Boribori didn¡¯t look back.

    Marie was sitting near the watchtower, chatting with Delphi. It looked like she was either getting advice or beingforted, as Delphi gently stroked Marie¡¯s back in a soothing manner.

    Boribori ran up to Marie, pointed in Ricardt¡¯s direction, and started saying something to her.

    Seeing this, Ricardt felt his face flush red. Talking to Boribori suddenly felt like a life-altering mistake. Bori, you traitor¡­

    However, Marie showed no change in her expression. She merely nced at Ricardt with a nk face, then turned her gaze to the gentle ridge in the distance.

    Boribori came running back to Ricardt.

    ¡°Marie says she understands. It looks like you two can stay friends.¡±

    ¡°Hey¡­ you¡­¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°¡­Nothing¡­¡±

    Getting upset over Boribori¡¯s well-meaning efforts would aplish nothing. Ricardt just decided he shouldn¡¯t tell Boribori about such things anymore.

    As he looked down from the cliff, he saw that the bustling crowd had disappeared, leaving only litter scattered here and there across the valley.

    This meant there was no longer anything to see, and it signified that the battle for this area was over.

    Since it was an uninhabited and rarely visited ce to begin with, the Kaitz Hignds had returned to its former quietness once the battle was over.

    From a strategic perspective, they had secured the rear well, and now Ricardt wondered if there was even a need to continue holding this ce.

    It had been four days since the victory news had been delivered, and Ricardt and his friends were waiting for someone to arrive from headquarters.

    That person arrived just after noon. Walking up the Kaitz Hignds, their feet made soft crunching sounds on the short grass. To Ricardt¡¯s surprise, it was someone he knew.

    ¡°Sandy?¡±

    ¡°Well, well, well, look at our little young master all grown up! Making your noona run errands?¡±

    How long had it been, two years? Sandy, smiling yfully with that familiar grin, hadn¡¯t changed a bit. Her brown hair was tied up tightly behind her, and her slightly upturned eyes made her a striking beauty.

    Out of sheer happiness, Ricardt gave her a light hug.

    But the moment they separated, he felt an unusual tension. Turning around, he saw Marie lowering her head, breathing heavily as if trying to suppress her anger.

    Realizing his mistake, Ricardt quickly exined.

    ¡°This, uh, this is Sandy. She¡¯s the one who brought me to the Academy from Reinfurt. That¡¯s all. Just someone I know. My senior, really, my senior.¡±

    Ricardt didn¡¯t even realize he was speaking as if he were making excuses. Marie, still looking down, took a deep breath to calm herself.

    Noticing the interaction between Ricardt and Marie, Sandy immediately caught on and smirked knowingly.

    ¡°I told you, didn¡¯t I? That you¡¯d end up making a lot of girls cry.¡±

    Ricardt could only give a sheepish smile, unable to refute her. Although¡­ it wasn¡¯t really a lot of girls¡­

    Of course, including Daisy, he had made two girls cry, but Ricardt hadpletely forgotten about Daisy.

    Sandy, with the wisdom of an experienced senior adventurer, gave Marie some advice that reflected her years of experience.

    ¡°Don¡¯t show your feelings so openly. If you do, it¡¯ll only make other girls target him more.¡±

    However, it seemed this wasn¡¯t the right time for advice. Marie shot Sandy a sharp look, her eyes shing with the same fierceness she disyed in battle, and responded curtly.

    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean? Don¡¯t pretend like you know me.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ looks like you were rejected recently. You need to let go of some of that resentment. It¡¯s just sad to see someone as pretty as you like this.¡±

    ¡°What? Huh!¡±

    Marie was so taken aback that she was left speechless. When it came to a verbal sparring match, Marie was still too young to take on Sandy.

    Feeling a cold sweating on, Ricardt hurriedly tried to defuse the situation by introducing his other friends. A woman¡¯s intuition was scarier than the sharpest de.

    ¡°Ah, shouldn¡¯t we do introductions first? This is Boribori, over here is our n leader, Volka, this is Delphi, and¡­ this is Marie.¡±

    Sandy gave Marie a look that was somewhere between amused and condescending, then turned to greet the others.

    ¡°I¡¯m Sandy from the ¡®Fighting Cock¡¯ n. I¡¯ve heard a lot about you, Volka.¡±

    ¡°Me? Not about Ricky?¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re leading the n that Ricky¡¯s in, wouldn¡¯t that make you famous? And Boribori, you¡¯re a lot cuter than I expected. I heard you enjoy chopping people up.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ I don¡¯t actually enjoy it¡­¡±

    Perhaps Boribori was the one suffering the most from the rumors. People practically saw him as a crazed killer.

    ¡°Anyway, it¡¯s crazy these days, absolutely crazy. Whenever two adventurers meet, all they talk about is your n. And what¡¯s withst year¡¯s graduates? There¡¯s this guy named Ice too¡­ the master seems to be having trouble handling them when dealing with enemies is already tough enough.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean ¡®having trouble handling¡¯?¡±

    Ricardt found the phrase ¡®having trouble handling¡¯ somewhat grating.

    ¡°The pie is only so big, right? It¡¯s probably hard to figure out how much to divide up. I heard some voices in the leadership are even suggesting they stop giving out missions altogether. But I don¡¯t know the details.¡±

    Every organization had its own internal politics. Within an organization, there could be factions formed around influence and power.

    These factions sometimes led to mutual development throughpetition, but at other times, they gnawed away at the organization from within.

    It was a troublesome issue, but as long as humans lived in societies, it was an unavoidable one. Across cultures and eras, it was a problem that always cropped up.

    Factional conflicts had been around a thousand years ago, and they would still be around a thousand years from now. The core of the problemy in how to distribute limited resources and power.

    The Beringen Adventurers¡¯ Guild was no exception to this issue. There were established ns and Senior Adventurers with influence within the Beringen Guild, and now, suddenly, Ricardt and the Vi n were rising rapidly.

    In times of war, their abilities were desperately needed, so they were put to use. But now that things had settled down a bit, the question of how much reward they deserved had be an issue.

    If they were given too little, they¡¯d feel discontent, but if they were given too much, the existing factions would get a smaller share.

    It would be ideal if rewards could be distributed fairly based on merit, but the world didn¡¯t operate so simply.

    There were two things in this world that made people lose their minds: power and money. When these two came into y, reason went out the window.

    It wasn¡¯t rare for situations to arise where everyone became both an aggrieved victim and a vicious perpetrator, driving each other mad.

    Kings killed their own children, princes rebelled against their fathers. When power and money were involved, even family ties could be forgotten¡ªsuch was human nature.

    ¡°So?¡±

    Ricardt asked, sensing something unsettling.

    ¡°Leave this ce to the pig, and the master wants to see you guys. That¡¯s the message I came to deliver.¡±

    The ¡®pig¡¯ Sandy referred to was Reinhardt, the n leader of the Widowmakers n. Perhaps his simple-minded way of living was the wisest of them all.

    ¡°What¡¯s the situation on your end? You didn¡¯t share much thest time I visited,¡± Volka asked.

    ¡°At first, they nned to split the territory into three parts, but that guy Ice turned out to be far more impressive than expected. So then they thought about dividing it in two instead, and since things seem to be under control here too, it seems the thinking has shifted to maybe just letting Rickye and they take it all. At least, that¡¯s what it looks like to me. I don¡¯t know exactly what headquarters is thinking.¡±

    ¡°¡­That¡¯s not good.¡±

    Hearing Sandy¡¯s exnation, Ricardt muttered to himself.

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t conduct a war like that. You need to set a clear objective and end it cleanly once the goal is achieved. If you keep thinking, ¡®Maybe we could take a little more,¡¯ or ¡®Maybe it¡¯s not quite enough,¡¯ and drag things out, you end up losing everything.¡±

    Ricardt had seen many operations fall apart in his past life precisely because of that kind of half-hearted strategy. Whenever things went wrong, it was always that sort ofcent thinking from themander that was the root of the problem.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a fan of it either, but what can we do? It¡¯s not our decision to make. Guilds are never something you can rely on. They always let you down if you expect too much. The only thing you can truly depend on is your n. That¡¯s how everyone lives and thinks. But then again, Ricky, your case is one of a kind, so even I can¡¯t say for sure how it¡¯ll turn out.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    Knowing it was pointless to argue with Sandy about it, Ricardt held his tongue.

    If you looked back through history, there were plenty of cases where achieving too much sess created its own problems. For those at the top, having ipetent subordinates was an issue, but overly capable ones could be just as troublesome.

    Ricardt had never met the guild master, so he didn¡¯t know what kind of person he was, nor could he predict how things might unfold.

    However, he did have one small measure of reassurance. He had told him to reach out if he encountered any trouble, so if things went awry, he could always do that, right? (TL: Here, ¡°He¡± refers to Heuman, the Emperor¡¯s Champion)

    Anyway, after having a meal with Sandy and telling Reinhardt they were leaving, they all departed from the Kaitz Hignds together.

    Their destination was Siegfringer, the ce where Ricardt, Boribori, and Nameless had operated during the past winter.

 Chapter 56

    Chapter 56

    Siegfringer was a region in the central northern part of the Empire, governed by the Duke of Siegfringer.

    This region had onerge city and several medium and small cities. The ces where Ricardt and Boribori primarily operated with Nameless included about four medium-sized cities, such as Lunenberg.

    Over the past winter, they avenged Nameless in those cities, and in the process, they eradicated various thief guilds and criminal organizations.

    Because of this, even before the recent battle in the Kaitz Hignds, Ricardt and Boribori had already gained quite a bit of fame in the Siegfringer area.

    Here, they weremonly referred to as the Heros of Siegfringer, or sometimes the ¡®Siegfringer Trio¡¯: Ricky, the Red Cloak, Boribori, the Five Body Part Slicer, and Nameless X.

    As Ricardt followed Sandy past the outskirts of a small town, he felt a familiar sensation. Memories of the past winter spent with Nameless came back to him. However, it wasn¡¯t merely a beautiful memory but something more bittersweet.

    Because now, Nameless was gone. Winter had already passed, and even spring was nearing its end.

    It felt as though he could almost see the figure of him walking alongside them on this path. Despite the cold of winter, Boribori hadughed unusually often back then. But now, the weather itself was warm.

    He didn¡¯t feel particrly empty or mncholic. That was because he believed that white mourning attire was more appropriate than ck for mourning Nameless ¡®s death.

    He had been saved. So there was no need to be sad. That was Ricardt¡¯s perspective, and Boribori felt the same way.

    Now, however, they were passing through these ces filled with memories ofst winter, apanied by new people and in a new season.

    It wasn¡¯t a matter of covering up or erasing the past, but simply adding anotheryer. One by one, like stacking memories.

    Of course, it was impossible to know yet whether whaty ahead would be cherished memories or things they¡¯d rather forget.

    ¡°Ricky.¡±

    Marie¡¯s call snapped Ricardt out of his reverie, and he turned to look at her. She shyly held something out to him. In her palm were a few bright red wild berries.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Ricardt took one and ate it. The tiny, bumpy seeds of the berry popped in his mouth, releasing a tart yet sweet vor.

    But sensing something odd, he nced back and saw Volka, Delphi, and Boribori staring intently at him and Marie. Ah, so they were behind this.

    ¡°Ha¡­ You guys, really.¡±

    ¡°We were just watching, that¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°Sure you were.¡±

    Volka spoke as if it was nothing, but it was obvious to anyone that he was deeply invested in whatever was going on between Ricardt and Marie.

    Meanwhile, Sandy, who had been walking nearby and observing all this,mented with an exasperated tone.

    ¡°That¡¯s not how you win a man¡¯s heart. It¡¯s like you¡¯ve got it backward.¡±

    ¡°How do you win it, then?¡±

    Delphi asked.

    ¡°You have to seduce him. Ricky¡¯s still young, so he doesn¡¯t understand yet. Time will sort things out. Don¡¯t rush it too much. If you do, a man¡¯s heart will just slip further away. When he¡¯s grown enough down there, that¡¯s when you tempt him. Then he¡¯ll fall for you in no time.¡±

    Whether she was shameless or just didn¡¯t care, Sandy spoke casually right in front of the person in question.

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±

    Ricardt let out a faint hum. Surprisingly, Marie seemed to be taking her advice to heart. When he¡¯s grown enough down there¡­

    Still, she extended more berries toward him, as if encouraging him to eat more.

    Ricardt felt awkward but didn¡¯t reject the berries. As embarrassing as it was, he didn¡¯t want to trample on the girl¡¯s innocent feelings. He wasn¡¯t hard-hearted enough to decisively cut things off.

    Contrary to Sandy¡¯s opinion, he just hoped that, in time, Marie would naturallye to terms with her feelings.

    ¡°But Ricky.¡±

    Sandy called out to him.

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°A woman¡¯s courage disappears after her first love. So, treat her with care, okay? I can¡¯t dictate your feelings, but¡­¡±

    The age gap between them was only about six or seven years, but Sandy offered advice as if she were a wise elder.

    ¡°I get it, but isn¡¯t it a bit much to say that in front of the person involved?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with saying it? We don¡¯t know when we¡¯re going to die.¡±

    ¡°¡­Fair enough.¡±

    It reminded him of when he first saw Sandy¡¯s n two years ago. His initial impression of adventurers back then had been that they were both closed-off yet, in some ways, open and honest.

    This contradictory nature stemmed from the underlying reality that they never knew when they might die.

    They were closed-off because they had to be wary of others, yet open and honest because there might not be a ¡®next time¡¯.

    Perhaps Marie¡¯s confession was along those same lines. It could very well have been driven by a fear and anxiety that this might be herst chance, but that didn¡¯t mean her feelings were fabricated or insincere.

    Marie¡¯s feelings were genuine. Ricardt knew that better than anyone. And because of that, even if he couldn¡¯t ept her feelings, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to trample on them either.

    ¡°I won¡¯t say I¡¯m sorry. But thank you.¡±

    ¡°¡­Yeah. But you know.¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to change your mind about that, right?¡±

    ¡°About what?¡±

    ¡°That stuff about not believing in love. So, that means you won¡¯t love any other woman either, right?¡±

    Ricardt suddenly felt that something was seriously off. A chill ran down his spine.

    But Marie¡¯s gaze remained pure. Which only made it feel scarier.

    ¡°Uh¡­ y-yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll believe you.¡±

    Was the word ¡®believe¡¯ really this frightening? Ricardt couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that he¡¯d gotten himself into something he couldn¡¯t escape.

    Whether it was religion, love, or any other belief, there was an inherent madness to the act of faith. The sweet taste of the wild berries still lingered in his mouth, but he couldn¡¯t enjoy the vor anymore.

    Unaware of Ricardt¡¯s inner turmoil, his friends looked on in satisfaction. He thought they must all be crazy.

    Maybe it was just the times they lived in, or maybe it was just his friends who were like this, but they seemed to believe that as long as it could be patched up with a needle and thread, it was good enough.

    Ricardt closed his eyes. Just as he couldn¡¯t ept Marie¡¯s feelings, he couldn¡¯t tell her to stop liking him either. He¡¯d have to endure it himself; what else could he do?

    Anyway, he followed Sandy into the forest on the outskirts of town.

    After walking through the woods for about an hour, they could hear the sound of water trickling nearby. Eventually, they arrived at a ce where there was a small cabin.

    A few adventurers were scattered around the area near the cabin. Some of them looked familiar, though he didn¡¯t know their names. They were people whose faces he recognized from frequently visiting the guild building down the hill.

    Some of them touched the brims of their hats or lifted a hand in a casual greeting. Ricardt nodded to acknowledge them in return.

    Sandy approached a woman with short ck hair who was squatting next to the cabin and started talking to her. Ricardt and his friends stood a bit further back, watching.

    The woman who had been squatting stood up. She was dressed in ck clothes that weren¡¯t tight but fit closely enough to outline her figure to some extent. Her face was half-covered by a scarf.

    After listening briefly to Sandy, the woman turned and walked toward Ricardt.

    Pointing at Volka and Ricardt, she said,

    ¡°Just you two, follow me.¡±

    The woman in ck led Volka and Ricardt somewhere. It seemed the guild master wasn¡¯t in the cabin.

    Following her, the sound of trickling water grew louder. Soon, they reached a clear brook deep in the forest.

    Near the brook, three people were waiting¡ªtwo standing and one sitting on a small folding chair.

    They had lit a fire and seemed to be cooking something, as a delicious aroma wafted over to where Ricardt was standing.

    The woman gestured with her hand as if telling them toe closer, and when Ricardt and Volka approached, the person who had been sitting turned his head to look at them. To their surprise, it was Dunkel.

    ¡°Huh? What, it¡¯s Dunkel?¡±

    ¡°Hahaha, that¡¯s right. It¡¯s not like I was trying to deceive you on purpose. Our line of work has some simrities to a thief guild, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Dunkelughed as he spoke. The guild master of the Beringen Guild was none other than Dunkel.

    Ricardt epted it calmly, though he was a bit surprised. In contrast, Volka¡¯s eyes were wide with shock. After all, he was the one who had known Dunkel longer than Ricardt, and he never would have imagined this.

    ¡°First, have some of this. It¡¯s a delicacy.¡±

    Dunkeldled some of the bubbling red soup from a pot onto a tray. Surprisingly, it contained freshwater crawfish, corn, and other fruits. Then, using a dagger, Dunkel sliced a lemon in half and squeezed it over the two trays.

    ¡°Here, watch. You eat it like this.¡±

    Dunkel demonstrated by peeling a crawfish. He twisted off the body, separated it from the head, peeled back the firstyer of shell, and then pressed the end of the tail to pop the meat out.

    Ricardt and Volka, slightly bewildered, sat down on the gravel and began peeling the crawfish. Before long, their hands were covered in sauce.

    When they took a bite of the crawfish meat, it was incredible. It was their first time tasting such a refined dish, made with an abundance of expensive spices. Who knew such vors existed?

    Throughout his previous life, Ricardt had subsisted on nothing but dried rations, salty preserved meat, jerky, and nd gruel, so he was astonished, his eyes wide with shock.

    Dunkel watched with a satisfied smile as Ricardt and Volka ate a couple of crawfish. Then, after washing his hands in a jug of water poured by someone else and drying them with a towel, he spoke.

    ¡°I knew things would go well if you joined, Ricky.¡±

    Ricardt paused in the middle of eating and thought for a moment before replying.

    ¡°But¡­ I kind of feel like I was used.¡±

    ¡°You weren¡¯t used. I didn¡¯t order your n leader, Volka, to do anything. All I did was casually mention that academy students might be mobilized.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ sounds just like the whisper of a devil.¡±

    ¡°Hahaha, I¡¯ll take that as apliment.¡±

    ¡°So, why did you want to see us?¡±

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll get to the point. What do you want?¡±

    Dunkel leaned back in his folding chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he asked. Judging by the look in his eyes, it seemed he already knew what they wanted.

    Ricardt looked over at Volka, since he was the n leader.

    ¡°A branch office. It would be nice if the location had farnd, but it¡¯s fine even if it doesn¡¯t. It would be great if there was somend that could be cultivated.¡±

    ¡°Of course, of course, you¡¯ve got to start preparing for retirement while you¡¯re young. If you wait until you¡¯re old, it¡¯ll be toote.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re really going to make us branch head?¡±

    Ricardt asked.

    ¡°Do I have any choice in the matter?¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re the guild master.¡±

    ¡°I know you¡¯re a noble, and I know the old man¡¯s backing you. So it¡¯s not like I have much of a say in the matter, do I?¡±

    ¡°N-noble? What are you talking about?¡±

    Volka looked back at Ricardt with wide eyes. He was stunned, realizing that Ricardt, like Dunkel, had been hiding his true identity. (TL: Poor Volka, two surprises of this level in the same hour¡­)

    Ricardt gave an awkward smile and said,

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing special about being a noble. I had to leave my family anyway. My real name is Ricardt von Caldebern.¡±

    ¡°Oh my¡­ It sounds like some foreignnguage or something.¡±

    ¡°Everyone says that. That it sounds like a foreignnguage.¡±

    ¡°Who else knows besides me?¡±

    ¡°Sandy and Bori.¡±

    ¡°Was it really necessary to keep it a secret?¡±

    ¡°If I hadn¡¯t, do you think we would have be friends otherwise?¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ yeah, if I had known you were a noble from the start, I probably wouldn¡¯t have dared to pick a fight with you.¡±

    ¡°Hey you. What kind of tone is that?¡± (TL: Refering to the way Volka, amoner, speaking casually to a noble.)

    ¡°¡­?¡±

    ¡°Just kidding.¡±

    Ricardt and Volka looked at each other and chuckled. Thinking about it, their rtionship had developed in a rather amusing way. Initially, Ricardt had just beaten Volka up, and he hadn¡¯t expected to grow close to him.

    But he had been drawn to Volka¡¯s dedication toward his fellow students, and through various experiences together, they had grown even closer. They¡¯d be a n, a group that could almost be considered family.

    ¡°So, does this mean we officially have a branch now?¡±

    Ricardt asked, looking at Dunkel.

    ¡°That¡¯s right. But, there¡¯s nothing in this world thates for free. Whether it¡¯s friends, family, or wealth, it only truly bes yours if you have the strength to protect it and actually do so.¡±

    Ricardt thought about Dunkel¡¯s words for a moment. With his sharp mind, he quickly grasped the underlying meaning.

    ¡°So, you¡¯re giving us a branch in an unstable area affected by the war.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. If you can protect it, then it¡¯s yours. My role is nothingplicated. I just align the ambitions of adventurers and the dreams of their ns with our own goals.¡±

    ¡°And if they can¡¯t be aligned?¡±

    Dunkel responded with a mysterious smile. Ricardt guessed that the answer was simple¡ªeither they would be eliminated or expelled.

    While Ricardt might surpass Dunkel inbat skills and fighting techniques, he had to admit that Dunkel was more skilled when it came to managing organizations and handling people.

    ¡°How¡¯s Ice doing?¡±

    Volka asked, his tray now full of discarded crawfish shells and empty corn cobs.

    Dunkel picked up the tray, dumped the food waste unceremoniously onto the ground, and refilled it, replying as he did so.

    ¡°It¡¯s best not to get too close to him. Sooner orter, he¡¯s going to part ways with both the guild and you guys.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Since I¡¯ve already revealed my identity, I might as well tell you. Ice is from the Order of Judgment. He¡¯s not just a believer; he holds a significant position within the Order. He had his own purpose when he joined the academy. I kept him around because he was useful, but in the end, he¡¯ll choose the Order over anything else.¡±

    ¡°What¡­?¡±

    Volka looked utterly stunned, as if today held one surprise after another. Even Ricardt was quite taken aback.

    He had known Ice was involved in some kind of dubious cult, but he hadn¡¯t realized he was such a devoted follower. Being entangled that deeply could mean facing real inquisitions.

    ¡°You guys didn¡¯t notice? You¡¯re amateurs, then. It was obvious if you just looked closely. That guy¡¯s obsessed with bing a Sword Master for the Order¡¯s sake. That¡¯s why he¡¯s trying so hard to be a top-tier adventurer. But that¡¯s not my decision to make. It¡¯s for the elders to decide.¡±

    ¡°Who are these ¡®Elders¡¯? Are there more people involved than the ones I know?¡±

    Ricardt asked, but Dunkel merely smiled again, opting to remain silent with that enigmatic expression.

    ¡°I¡¯ve said what I needed to say. You might run into Ice now and then, but I¡¯m not the type to dictate what you should do. You handle it as you see fit.¡±

    Dunkel brushed off his clothes and stood up, as if he was heading somewhere. Before leaving, he gave Ricardt a final piece of advice.

    ¡°Ricky, the title of one of the Empire¡¯s Nine Swords is like being the winner of a jousting tournament. There are always challengers, and there¡¯s no guarantee you¡¯ll win the next match. If you¡¯re struck down, even the champion can end up gravely injured or dead. Just like how you killed Steiner.¡±

    ¡°Ah, that reminds me of something ¨C about the Ernburg Five. I heard the Emperor was behind them, is that true?¡±

    Dunkel sighed, feeling both amused and exasperated. This guy really didn¡¯t listen, did he?

    ¡°They were like high-ss courtesans, taking only the clients they wanted. They yed their cards well, so the higher-ups were still deciding whether to kill them or let them live. And then you went and killed them yourself. Thanks to that, you¡¯ve made things easier for quite a few people. Anyway, I¡¯m off. See you next time. Take care of yourself. Sally will fill you in on the branch office details.¡±

    Dunkel walked across the gravel path with his group. Only the woman named Sally, who had guided Ricardt here, stayed behind and approached the two of them.

    ¡°Are you going to finish that?¡±

    Sally asked, pointing at the pot.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m asking if you¡¯re going to eat it all.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no. I¡¯m fine. What about you, Ricky?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m good too.¡±

    At that, Sally sat down next to the pot anddled some of the stew onto a tray. She must have really wanted to eat it. To be fair, the smell was fantastic.

    The crawfish dish was certainly delicious, but after hearing all those side stories, Ricardt felt a bit unsettled, like there was an unpleasant aftertaste.

    Maybe it was because he felt like he¡¯d been manipted, like a puppet on a string without even realizing it. Did it matter, though, if he¡¯d gotten what he wanted in the end? He wasn¡¯t sure.

    And now, thinking about Ice stirred up mixed feelings. The Order of Judgment¡­

    The words Ice had once said to him in Griffinswald echoed faintly in his mind.

    ¡®¡­No matter what you do, you can¡¯t save me¡­ Just let me die¡­¡¯

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 57

    <strong>Trantor: Willia</strong>

    Bing a branch head was neither simple nor straightforward.

    First, one had to establish a contract with the guild, which was simr to a vassge contract.

    Since transportation andmunication were underdeveloped in this era, a branch head wielded nearly independent authority within the branch, but was obligated to provide supplies and military force as needed to address guild-level issues collectively.

    Conversely, the guild was responsible for providing initial settlement funds to the branch head and had a duty to protect the branch. In other words, it was a mutual, bteral contract.

    Secondly, branch heads needed to localize in their respective regions. This was the difficult part.

    They first had to present gifts and tributes to the lord of the area to obtain the so-called business rights, then either cooperate with the existing local powers or, if necessary, fight them to establish a foothold in the region.

    Although the Beringen Guild had already formed a basic contract with the Duke of Siegfringer, being a feudal society, the branch still had to establish separate contracts with the duke¡¯s vassals.

    Once the business rights were secured,petitors eliminated, and the foundation sessfullyid, personnel management became essential.

    The n of the branch head, who had signed the branch contract with the Guild Master, wasmonly referred to as the ''core n''. However, to operate the branch, the core n alone was not enough.

    They needed to recruit adventurers and manage them to ensure theypleted requests without causing trouble.

    Gatheringpetent and reliable people was difficult in itself, and managing them effectively was an exceptionally challenging task. This was because all sorts ofplex issues inevitably arose at this stage.

    Therefore, if necessary, one had to expel, coax, threaten, or even eliminate them.

    All of this responsibility fell on Volka¡¯s shoulders. Ricardt and his friends were tasked with helping him so that the branch could stabilize and run smoothly.

    ¡°Simple, right? First, go present gifts to Count Reinhold. Since the contract with the Duke is already in ce, he¡¯ll ept it without issue.¡±

    Though it was far from simple, Sally spoke as if it was. Unknown to them, she was actually the Deputy Master of the Beringen Guild.

    Seated opposite her at the table were Ricardt and his party. But for some reason, they were looking at her with a slightly dazed expression. This was because a mountain of tes was stacked in front of Sally.

    ¡°What? Haven¡¯t you seen a person eating before?¡±

    Sally said, epting another te brought by a server. On the te was a whole boiled chicken. The server¡¯s expression wasn¡¯t much different from Ricardt and his friends.

    ¡°...No. You¡¯re quite a big eater, but you manage to keep your figure well.¡±

    Delphi said.

    "That''s because I move around a lot. That bastard Dunkel hasn''t moved at all since bing master. He''s totally lost his touch."

    She grumbled while tearing into the chicken with her hands. Was this her third chicken already? Is that even possible?

    Ricardt looked at her with a somewhat dumbfounded expression, then gestured to Volka that it was time to go.

    ¡°Well then, we¡¯ll be taking our leave.¡±

    "Yeah yeah, be careful out there. Not just with work, but there are still hostile guilds lurking around."

    ¡°Yes, you too, Sally.¡±

    Ricardt and Volka each picked up a chest and left the inn. Although the chests weren¡¯trge, they were quite heavy, filled with silver coins. It was the initial settlement fund provided by the guild.

    The two headed to the stable attached to the inn, draped a cloth over a donkey, loaded a chest on each side, and tied them securely with ropes.

    Boribori stroked the donkey¡¯s head, feeding it a carrot, and said,

    ¡°Let¡¯s go, Magnoli.¡±

    Magnoli was the donkey¡¯s name, a variation of ''Magnolia''. (TL: Magnolia is a flower)

    Of course, the name was something Boribori had given whimsically. As the n''s first asset and the top item on their asset list, it held a special meaning for the other friends as well.

    Boribori gently took hold of the reins and led the donkey. Magnoli began to follow, clip-clopping along.

    The Vi n¡¯s destination as they left the small town was none other than Ernburg.

    Ernburg was the base of operations and primary activity area of the Ernburg Five.N?v(el)B\\jnn

    It felt symbolic somehow. Since Ricardt had been the one to eliminate them, it almost seemed like a trophy.

    At the same time, it was also the closest location to Lutzerat, a hostile guild. This area was a kind of frontier and, effectively, the current front line.

    Establishing themselves there was the Vi n''s assignment and mission. And it was also the dream that the five of them, none of whom were even twenty yet, were working to achieve.

    ¡°Ah, so you must be the boy hero with the red cloak. Then, does that make you the Five Body Part Slicer, Boribori?¡±

    A man with impressively curled mustaches at both ends said while stamping a red wax seal with his ring. This man was Count Reinhold, the Count of Nordrhein, which included Ernburg.

    ¡°No, Boribori, the Five Body Part Slicer is him.¡±

    The Count was looking at Volka when he spoke, but Volka corrected him while pointing at Boribori.

    "Eh? This innocent-looking boy? Somehow gives me chills. To think he enjoys dismembering people with such an innocent face."

    ¡°I don¡¯t enjoy it¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, anyway, I¡¯ve received your gifts. You have permission to conduct business in Ernburg. However, I won¡¯t be protecting you. What I mean is, I''ve also given permits to other guilds for money. You¡¯re free to sh with each other, but don¡¯t cause trouble for innocent people. I¡¯ll overlook some of it, but you all know well enough, so I won¡¯t add anything more.¡±

    On the Count¡¯s desk was a chest filled with silver coins. Half of the initial settlement funds had gone to him as a gift.

    In this era, there wasn¡¯t really a concept of ''bribes''. Offering a gift, or tribute, to secure a business license was amon practice.

    However, there was no set amount, and if a lord didn¡¯t want to grant it, no amount of money could change his mind. Fortunately, Count Reinhold was rtivelyid-back.

    Honestly, it was convenient for him to have a reliable adventurer guild in the region, especially since it was essentially free money.

    The guild could help maintain public order, and he could assign troublesome tasks to them. Mobilizing the military or hiring a mercenary band was a burden even for a count.

    It wasn¡¯t cost-effective either. Who would fully arm their soldiers and deploy them on horseback just to catch a single fly?

    Moreover, since there was no need to manage them, the rtionship between adventurers'' guilds and noble lords was simr to that of crocodiles and plover birds.

    ¡°Still, taking down the Ernburg Five was like pulling out a sore tooth. For Red Cloak''s sake, I¡¯ll tell the mayor to find a good building for you. Do you have anything else you wish to discuss?¡±

    Volka looked around at his friends, then spoke to the Count.

    ¡°No, we don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Good. I wish you luck. You may go.¡±

    Ricardt and his group, now holding the all-important business permit, left Count Reinhold¡¯s castle.

    The castle, built ages ago and expanded and renovated over the years, was quite grand. It couldn¡¯t even bepared to the castle in Stormhertz, Ricardt¡¯s hometown.

    Even a lord residing in a castle like this found it difficult to mobilize an army. This was an era where lords had to arm themselves and fight personally.

    Magnoli the donkey carried their now lighter load and began walking towards Ernburg.

    Since it was a day¡¯s journey from the Count¡¯s castle to Ernburg, the group had to camp out along the way. The difference between having a donkey and not was significant here.

    With the extra travel equipment, they could set up a decent tent, bring along a pot,dle, and utensils, allowing them to eat a wider variety of food.

    Moreover, with spring nearing its end, the weather was mild. While it was still chilly at night, it was nothingpared to winter¡¯s bitter cold.

    In the north, the grass grew short, but the trees were thick, straight, and tall, mostly fir trees.

    Though it wasn¡¯t quite a full tent, their tarp could still block the wind and rain. By hanging the durable fabric on branches, pulling the ropes taut, and securing the stakes, there was enough space for all five of them to fit insidefortably.

    They lit a fire in front of the tent and fed the donkey dried bean stalks and simr scraps. One person washed the pot and fetched water from a nearby river, while another cut fruits and vegetables, preparing ingredients.

    The five of them really felt like a family. Ricardt and Marie worked together preparing what they considered a feast, looking almost like a young married couple.

    "Did I slice it too thick?"

    Ricardt asked, cutting a turnip. Normally, he wasn¡¯t picky about his food, but now that they were cooking, he couldn¡¯t tell if he was doing it right.

    ¡°Give it here. I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    Marie said. She took the turnip from Ricardt and, without even using a cutting board, expertly sliced it with a sharp dagger, then tossed the pieces into the pot with a ''plop, plop''.

    From the way she handled it, Ricardt could tell Marie probably wasn¡¯t sure about what she was doing either. Her bangs kept falling down, obstructing her view, so he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear.

    Ricardt had no idea that such a casual, thoughtless gesture could make Marie¡¯s heart flutter.

    Despiteing from a noble family, Marie didn¡¯t shy away from hard work. She didn¡¯t seem to mind if her appearance got a bit disheveled either.

    Even with messy hair, clothes that sometimes slipped and exposed a bit of side, or dirt and stains on her face and clothes, her appearance never lost its charm. In fact, she seemed to shine even more.

    As for the meal they were making, it was, to be honest, a bit of a mishmash. They were just throwing whatever they had into a single pot and boiling it all together. Perhaps they could at least appreciate that they were getting a bnced mix of nutrients.

    In any case, they ended up making a strange concoction that was neither soup nor porridge and each scooped out a portion to eat. Surprisingly, it tasted decent enough.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s the n from here?¡±

    Delphi asked, blowing on her spoonful of the mishmash stew before taking a sip.

    ¡°We¡¯ll meet the mayor and establish our branch first, right?¡±

    Volka responded, as if it was obvious.

    ¡°No, that¡¯s not what I meant. That¡¯s just procedural stuff. What I mean is, do you think our enemies will just leave us alone?¡±

    ¡°¡­True. That¡¯s going to be troublesome.¡±

    In the Kaitz Hignds, their enemies had been clear and visible. The problem there was their numbers, but at least they knew who to fight.

    Here, however, it was different. They had no idea when, where, or how many enemies might appear.

    "There''s a way in times like these."

    Boribori suddenly dered confidently, surprising everyone. When they all turned to look at him, he grinned and shouted,

    "Ricky-ricky, help!"

    Ricardt couldn''t help butugh at the absurdity. What''s with ''Ricky-ricky'' anyway?

    ¡°I don¡¯t have any sure method either. The best way would be topletely wipe out the enemy''s base. Whether it¡¯s Brabant or Lutzerat, if we stormed their headquarters and killed everyone, that¡¯d solve things cleanly. But since that¡¯s not realistic, we should gather information first. Figure out who our enemies are and how they operate.¡±

    "Should we visit the thieves'' guild?"

    ¡°That¡¯ll be tough.¡±

    Boribori replied.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because we already destroyed all of themst winter.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±

    In fact, going around and wiping out various criminal organizations had been an unbelievable aplishment, mostly thanks to the help of Nameless.

    He was an excellent vanguard, so as long as they backed him up, he could charge through and decimate most groups. Volka had a simr charging style, but he couldn¡¯tpare to Nameless.

    ¡°We need to build our ownwork and forces first. Let¡¯s start by gaining the help of the locals. I heard Ernburg has a renowned stonemasons¡¯ guild. How about we reach out to them?¡±

    There were all kinds of guilds in the world. Guilds were essentially associations of people in the same trade, banding together to protect their interests.

    Naturally, they were established based on local areas and wielded considerable influence within those regions.

    In this era, whether in business or anything else, one needed to have enough strength to defend themselves, so even guilds of merchants and artisans couldn¡¯t be underestimated.

    In particr, the cksmiths'' Guild and the Stonemasons'' Guild were known for their grueling andbor-intensive work, so much so that many of them could be as intimidating as professional fighters.

    "But don''t thieves'' guilds just grow back like poisonous mushrooms no matter how many times you eliminate them?"

    Delphi said.

    ¡°That¡¯s true, but do you think they¡¯ll look favorably on us?¡±

    Ricardt was doubtful, especially given what they¡¯d donest winter. He didn¡¯t mind working with the Thieves¡¯ Guild if necessary, but they weren''t people worth getting involved with.

    "I''ll handle that. I roughly know how to deal with it."

    Volka said. While he didn¡¯t have Ricardt¡¯s strategic mind, Volka was better at handling people. He knew how to coax, persuade, and intimidate when needed.

    He would show strength to those who respected power, soothe those who needed calming, and pay off those motivated by money. The ability to use the right approach for each person was a skill in itself.

    When this went wrong, problems arose, but Volka had been adept at it since his Academy days. He had a knack for helping students find jobs and would step in to handle troublesome situations, so he had built up plenty of experience.

    ¡°Once we secure a building for the branch, let¡¯s split into two teams. One team will guard the branch while the other operates outside. Volka and Delphi, and me with Bori and Marie. We¡¯ll divide up that way.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good. But five people is a bit tight.¡±

    Volka said, sucking on his fingers after finishing his meal.

    The Vi n members were all highly skilled fighters, but they still needed manpower to get things done.

    One of the branch¡¯s main roles was to recruit and lead capable and trustworthy adventurers.

    With the core n at the center, they could potentially expand to oversee multiple ns, dominating the region and possibly even surpassing the guild headquarters.

    But with just five people, as Volka had pointed out, it was a tight situation.

    At least they had the advantage of Ricardt and Boribori¡¯s reputation, which gave them some initial leverage. They¡¯d seen that earlier when they met Count Reinhold.

    If they¡¯d tried to establish a branch from scratch, bashing their heads against the wall every step of the way, it would¡¯ve driven anyone insane. Nothing would work out, from one to ten.

    Perhaps Ernburg might be their second home. Though they had been born elsewhere, they¡¯d have to treat this ce as their final resting ground.

    Because the most important thing in establishing a branch was blending in with the locals and sharing life¡¯s ups and downs with them.

    If they couldn¡¯t integrate with the localmunity, they¡¯d remain outsiders, and there were limits to what outsiders could achieve.

    It might seem insignificant, but in critical moments, the localmunity would either drag you down or lift you up.

    Ricardt wondered that perhaps it was human destiny to leave one''s birthce and choose thend where one would be buried.

    Living and dying in one¡¯s birthce wasn¡¯t a bad thing, but he found it meaningful to bestow upon others the familial affection and local attention that one had received like nutrients from their hometown.

    They were all, in one way or another, abandoned children. There had been people like them in the past, and there would always be more in the future. Was there anything more meaningful than gathering together, supporting each other, and holding each other up?

    Human rtionships could sometimes feel like a terrible burden, but as they had learned from Nameless, only people could ultimately save each other.

    Ricardt looked up through the tangled branches of the forest and saw stars shining in the night sky. The stars were the same as they had always been, but the feelings they evoked were different.

    Suddenly, he could almost see himself growing older over the years, plowing fields together with his friends. And beside him, Marie was smiling.

    Could I really attain that kind of happiness? An anxious shadow fell over the vision, casting doubt. In the end, Marie was the brave one, while he was the coward.

    Feeling a pang of guilt, he chose not to voice an apology, as he¡¯d decided long ago. Instead, Ricardt sat close to Marie, wordlessly gazing up at the stars together.

    Ricardt often said that there¡¯s no need to get sentimental, but perhaps he was the one who fell into sentimentality the most.

    His first friend, Caldebert, had once told him he had the qualities of a poet. Strangely enough, the only person who truly knew Ricardt¡¯s sentimental side was a friend from a hundred years ago.

    A poet¡¯s soul walking the path of the sword. Perhaps he was distancing himself from happiness out of fear of unhappiness.

    I am a coward, Marie. I¡¯m sorry. Forgive me. Ricardt thought to himself as he felt a gentle weight rest on his shoulder.

    Night deepened. As the darkness grew, the stars shone even brighter.

    But just as the quiet night was settling everything into silence, Ricardt, who was sleeping close to his friends, was suddenly awakened by a strange, discordant sounding from afar.

    Volka, who was on watch by the campfire, turned his head towards the direction of the sound.

    "Did you hear it too?"

    Ricardt asked. Btedly realizing Ricardt had woken up, Volka replied,

    ¡°It was the sound of swords shing.¡±

    ng......

    Even before Volka finished speaking, another metallic sound echoed from the distance.

    ¡°Wake the others. I¡¯ll go check it out.¡±

    Ricardt said as he rose and grabbed his sword.

    ¡°Got it. Be careful.¡±

    Volka responded, not bothering to stop him. He knew from experience that it was hard to imagine anyone could be a match for Ricardt.

    Without donning his cloak or even fastening a belt around his waist, Ricardt held only his sword in one hand as he walked towards the source of the sound. Since this was a fir forest, there were few shrubs or undergrowth to get in his way, though visibility was low.

    As he walked deeper into the dark forest, the sounds of people became clearer. He could hear the thudding of running footsteps, shouts, and the final cries of those who were dying.

    Ricardt kept his distance, intending only to assess the situation, but suddenly, someone came rushing towards him.

    He prepared to draw his sword in a sh, but then stopped short as he caught a glimpse of the person¡¯s face in the faint moonlight. Astonishingly, it was Ice.

    Ricardt and Ice collided, their bodies brushing against each other. With a dull thud, they both tumbled to the ground, rolling over once or twice. Ricardt quickly got up and grabbed hold of Ice.

    In Ricardt¡¯s arms, Ice looked up at him with trembling eyes. His face was contorted, as if he was about to break down and cry, unable to utter a word of recognition.

    Ricardt, equally shocked, found himself at a loss for words. The state Ice was in was almost unrecognizable; whatever he had been through, it had clearly taken a toll.

    He was emaciated to the point of being skeletal, and his once beautiful silver hair had lost its luster, now brittle and lifeless. He looked like a wounded deer being hunted, fleeing desperately for its life.

    Ricardt had only heard rumors of Ice¡¯s remarkable exploits, but he had never imagined that Ice would end up in such a state.

    So this is what it means to feel a whirlwind of emotions. In that brief moment, Ricardt felt an overwhelming rush of mixed feelings.

    Ice had ended up like this because the guild had relentlessly pushed him, to the point of cruelty.

    Dunkel had already made up his mind about Ice. Either he¡¯d leave on his own, or he¡¯d die on a dangerous mission. He pushed Ice to the brink with ruthless assignments. Despite his outstanding abilities, Ice was treated as a discard by the guild.

    Ricardt recalled Dunkel¡¯s words echoing in his mind.

    ''It¡¯s best not to get too close to him. Sooner orter, he¡¯s going to part ways with both the guild and you guys. That guy¡¯s obsessed with bing a Sword Master for the sake of the Order.''

    So what? Ricardt thought. If he were the type to be swayed by words like that, he would never have made friends in the first ce. And he hadn¡¯t forgotten the promise he had made to himself.

    ¡°Even if you abandon me, I won¡¯t abandon you, Ice.¡±

    Ricardt spoke as if he were making a solemn vow. Then he stood up, drawing his sword.

    Seeing the boy act with the same unwavering resolve as always, Ice finally let his tears fall, unable to hold them back any longer.

 Chapter 58

    <strong>Trantor: Willia</strong>

    It was a night in the forest so silent that even the scops owl didn¡¯t cry. The loudest sound came from the fierce footsteps of men carrying torches. ''Turn over there'', ''no, to the left'', ''that fucking son of a bitch, I¡¯ll definitely kill him'', such voices could be heard.

    Ricardt, hiding behind a tree, estimated the number of enemies by the disordered sounds of their footsteps. Four? No, five.

    His ability to gauge the enemy count just by listening was almost superhuman, yet Ricardt could tell that these foes were no ordinary opponents.

    They were pursuing Ice, forming a makeshift encirclement while maintaining distance from each other¡ªnot an easy feat, especially at night.

    He thought, ''These people are definitely from the same n, and they¡¯re skilled, too.''

    However, Only he knew of the enemies¡¯ presence while they were unaware of his, there was no position more advantageous than this.

    Ricardt not only had a high level of swordsmanship but also knew how to fight. It wasn¡¯t about swordsmanship but aboutbat techniques.

    A hundred years ago, what had truly made Ricardt the strongest was not his swordsmanship but this aspect. Surprisingly, most people didn¡¯t understand this.

    And so, in their obsession to be Sword Masters, they couldn¡¯t evene close to imitating him.

    The enemies moved cautiously through the forest filled with tall, straight trees, checking behind each one as they closed the distance. However, they couldn¡¯t afford to be slow, as they risked losing Ice, the ermine if they were. (TL: It seems Ice''s nickname is ''Ermine'', which is an animal. )

    Ricardt saw the torchlight getting closer. Hiding in the darkness, he focused on the approaching footsteps. Without conscious thought, he could picture their spacing, weight, and posture in his mind.

    Then, he heard footsteps entering the precise range he¡¯d calcted.

    Step.

    Whoosh!

    Thwack!

    Rather than looking at his target, Ricardt sprang out and swung his sword first, slicing cleanly through the enemy¡¯s neck.

    The enemy¡¯s head flew off before he could even react. The other pursuers, who had been keeping their distance, were startled and quickly realized what had happened.

    ¡°Over here¡­!¡±

    The man closest to his fallenrade shouted, shining his torch on Ricardt, but his cry was cut short.

    This was because Ricardt, darting back and forth between light and shadow, had rapidly closed the distance.

    The man, holding a torch in one hand and a sword in the other, hastily retreated and assumed a defensive stance. However, such a clumsy posture was no match for Ricardt¡¯s sword.

    As befitting his old nickname, ''Ricky the Server'', which he¡¯d earned in the Beringen area, Ricardt shattered the man¡¯s poorly held sword and swiftly severed his neck as well.

    ng! Thwack!

    After felling his second opponent, Ricardt immediately leapt back into the darkness. The remaining three, chasing after him, quickly turned their torches in his direction, but a sword tip suddenly appeared before their eyes.

    Whoosh! Thwack!

    ¡°Ugh!¡±

    A sword pierced through one man¡¯s chest. He copsed backward. Anotherrade nearby, shocked, looked at his fallingpanion, then turned his head back, only to see a boy wielding a dagger rushing  at him.

    In a sh, Ricardt¡¯s dagger sliced through the inner thigh and armpit of his enemy like a gust of wind.

    ¡°Aaaaargh!¡±

    A scream echoed through the quiet forest. With his major tendons severed, the man dropped his torch and slumped powerlessly to the ground.

    Thest remaining man instinctively focused on his screamingrade.

    As his torch flickered wildly, Ricardt appeared from behind, seized him by the forehead, tilted his head back, and slit his throat.

    "Kugh! Kuluk!"

    Blood gushed, clogging his windpipe. He copsed and convulsed right in front of hisrade, whoy with his tendons severed.

    Thud.

    The enemy with the cut thigh and armpit tendonsy paralyzed on the ground, so shocked and terrified that he gasped sharply, filling his lungs. His body froze in ce.

    Trembling, he raised his head. He was so consumed with fear that thoughts echoed through his mind: I¡¯m dead, I¡¯m dead, I¡¯m dead, just kill me already.

    Ricardt stabbed the neck of the man who hadpletely lost the will to fight, slicing through the cartge and finishing him off. His gaze was calm and indifferent, with not a trace of pity orpassion.

    The man slumped to the ground, his torso falling forward and copsing over the body of hisrade. Blood spread out in a trickling pool.

    After killing all the enemies, Ricardt looked around the scene. Torchesy scattered here and there. Their light only partially illuminated the corpses, casting a deeply ominous atmosphere.

    However, just because he had killed them all in an instant didn¡¯t mean these were low-level enemies.

    While the enemies had relied solely on the light from their torches, Ricardt had been able to picture the entire battlefield situation almost like foresight, relying on sound alone. That difference made all the difference.

    On top of that, he¡¯dunched a surprise attack, so no matter how skilled they were, the enemies stood no chance.

    When he fought ten swordsmen on the hignds of Kaitz, it was a night with a full moon as bright as morning, and there was no ce to hide or take advantage of the terrain.

    Because of that, he had to face them with pure swordsmanship alone, and Ricardt had no choice but to struggle.

    Even so, the fact that he¡¯d defeated them all was remarkable, and it was something people often spoke of.

    Ricardt knew how to assess the battlefield environment and the enemy¡¯s psychology, using their weaknesses to his advantage. This wasn¡¯t an ability that could be developed just by practicing swordsmanship.

    It was a skill that required innate intuition, realbat experience, and the luck to survive.

    Ice had an innate talent for swordsmanship, but herey the stark difference between him and Ricardt.

    Of course, Ice had aplished impressive feats so far, but the reason he couldn¡¯t produce monstrous results like Ricardt was due to this very aspect.

    ¡°Ricky?¡±

    It was Marie¡¯s voice. Ricardt looked over at her while wiping his sword and rummaging through the spoils of battle. It was obvious she had rushed over to help.

    However, seeing that it was already over, Marie wore a dumbfounded expression.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    "Ah, no. I came to help."

    ¡°What about the others?¡±

    ¡°They took Ice to the campsite.¡±

    ¡°Is he okay?¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t have any external injuries, but he fainted. Seems like he was exhausted. He must¡¯ve been chased for quite a while.¡±

    "That''s somewhat fortunate. Can you help me?"

    ¡°With what?¡±

    "Need to collect equipment. And money if there is any."

    "Huh? Oh, r-right."

    Marie seemed a bit flustered, as if she¡¯d never looted a corpse before, even though she had killed people. She felt like this wasn¡¯t quite right, but seeing Ricardt rummaging through the bodies nonchntly, she followed suit.

    ¡°Uh, how far do I need to search?¡±

    "Huh?"

    ¡°I mean, I¡¯m not putting my hand inside their pants or anything.¡±

    ¡°Hahaha, you don¡¯t have to go that far. Just pat them down a bit, and if there¡¯s a money pouch or something, take it. Focus on the weapons. Just take as much as we can carry. If we take too much, it¡¯ll weigh us down and could affect ourbat strengthter. Don¡¯t get greedy, Marie.¡±

    To strip everything down to their underwear would be ideal for a thorough looting, but as Ricardt said, it wasn¡¯t necessary to go that far.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t really being greedy¡­¡±

    ¡°I was joking. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    Ricardt gathered two swords and a money pouch. Then he headed back to the campsite with Marie.

    Ice was lying down covered with a nket. There were traces of pale tears on his face. Boribori had ced some unknown herbs beneath his nose.

    "He''ll have an appetite when he wakes up."

    It was one of Boribori¡¯s usual, baseless folk remedies, but sometimes they worked.

    However, Volka, who was looking down at Ice, had aplex expression. Lost in thought, he only btedly noticed Ricardt¡¯s return.

    ¡°Did you kill them all?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Can we talk for a moment?¡±

    ¡°Why? Just say it here. Honestly, everyone already knows.¡±

    Ricardt, with his almost supernatural intuition, could already guess what Volka was about to say.

    Perhaps because of what he¡¯d heard from Dunkel, it seemed Volka wanted to discuss with Ricardt about how to handle Ice.

    Boribori and Delphi, who had spent time with Ice at the Academy, knew he was involved with the heretical sect. However, they didn¡¯t know the full extent of it, so they looked confused and bewildered.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it better to discuss this together? We¡¯re in the same n, after all.¡±

    Ricardt said once more. Although Marie wasn¡¯t an official member of the Vi n, she was practically halfway in. The others treated her that way too.

    Volka figured that this was the right approach and began to speak openly.

    "You probably know Ice is from the Order of Judgment. But it¡¯s not just a matter of simple belief, he seems to hold an official position within the Order. If he¡¯s that deeply entangled, it could be a problem. If he ends up judged as a heretic, it could drag us down with him.¡±

    For those who didn¡¯t know, this was shocking news. Having an official position in the Order marked someone as a confirmed heretic, and if it were exposed, there¡¯d be no trial, just a direct sentence to the stake.

    ¡°So... um, my opinion is that we should treat him and send him on his way. Besides, we¡¯re already busy with branch matters.¡±

    Volka carefully voiced his opinion. The atmosphere was heavy, but at some point, the scops owls and night insects had begun to chirp.

    The crackling of the campfire could also be heard. But those who were awakete into the night remained silent.

    Boribori squatted beside the sleeping Ice, looking down at him and then spoke.

    ¡°I¡¯m not really sure. Ice is someone I¡¯m grateful to. But... the n isn¡¯t just about me alone¡­¡±

    He shared a simr view to Volka¡¯s. Although he wasn¡¯t entirelyfortable with it, he thought it might be best to part ways for the group¡¯s sake.

    But despite his words, Boribori¡¯s expression betrayed his sympathy and concern. His heart seemed to have softened due to feelings of debt andpassion.

    As for Delphi, who was practically married to Volka, she was likely to follow his opinion, leaving only Ricardt¡¯s opinion left to hear.

    But, surprisingly, Marie spoke up.

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to worry about a heresy inquisition. The ones cracking down on the Order of Judgement are the royal families of each nation, not the Holy See.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a bitplicated, but from what I¡¯ve heard, that¡¯s the case. People have been leaving theirnds, and it¡¯s said the Order is the reason. The Imperial Family is just standing by. When the power of the kingdoms weakens, it benefits the Imperial Family.¡±

    The rtionship between kings and the Emperor was somewhatplex and unique. The Emperor was considered the supreme ruler of the world, ranking above kings, but he couldn¡¯t treat them recklessly either.

    The kingdoms held their own military authority and autonomy, wielding significant influence within the Empire.

    In simple terms, if the kingdoms grew too powerful, the Emperor would feel threatened; if the Emperor¡¯s authority grew stronger, the kingdoms would be restrained.

    While this was rarely spoken aloud, in reality, the rtionship between the Emperor and the kings was not far from that of mortal enemies.

    However, as a disrupted bnce of power would be detrimental to both sides, they were effectively on the same boat. Though they hated each other intensely, they didn¡¯t wish for the other¡¯s ruin.

    At critical times, they¡¯d support each other, and at other times, they¡¯d hinder each other, that was the kind of rtionship between the Emperor and the kings.

    Adding to thisplexity, the royal families of various nations and the Imperial Family were connected by blood through marriage alliances, making the situation even more tangled.

    In any case, it was a time when poption equaled national power. Without people, there was no one to farm, and there was nobor force to utilize.

    In other words, when peasants moved elsewhere, it signified a weakening of thend¡¯s strength. Moreover, relocating freely was illegal.

    But what if the destination of the migration was outside the kingdom? No matter how powerful a king was, once the emigrants entered the territory of the Empire, he could no longer interfere.

    Ricardt suddenly recalled Dunkel¡¯sparison of the Ernburg Five to prostitutes.

    As his sharp mind processed this information,bining various pieces, and reaching one conclusion that made him frown.

    ¡°Could it be... were the kings the ones behind the scenes, instigating the Ernburg Five?¡±

    The Ernburg Five had caused a lot of trouble all over, but the reason for their particr infamy was the massacres theymitted on a vige-wide scale.

    Most of their targets were settlements established by migrants who believed in the God of Judgement.

    From the perspective of the kings, it was necessary to kill these insolent migrants as an example. If left unchecked, their influence would only spread.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    Though not as powerful as the Emperor, kings could at least exert enough influence to prevent the Five from bing wanted fugitives. It was even easier if it involved not just one but two or more of them.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not entirely sure myself. But I think you¡¯re right, Ricky.¡±

    It was unclear whether the Imperial Family was knowingly turning a blind eye to what the kings were doing or if they were simply uninterested. However, it was bing clear that the Ernburg Five were starting to be a nuisance.

    ¡°But how do you know all this?¡±

    Volka looked at Marie as he asked.

    "Uh, huh? W-well, couldn''t I have heard it from s-somewhere?"

    Marie avoided his gaze, clearly evasive. Anyone could tell she looked suspicious. Volka, having recently discovered that Ricardt was a noble, thought, Maybe she is, too?

    While he wouldn¡¯t have guessed she was a princess, Ricardt and Boribori had noticed something peculiar about her from the very beginning.

    Ricardt stroked his chin, deep in thought. Everyone seemed to be waiting for him to speak.

    The nes first. That was clear. If he were to exin why he¡¯d risked his life fighting all this time, it wasn¡¯t just for personal honor or pride, most of it was for the sake of the n, to create a home they could call their own.

    But if epting Ice put the n in danger, should they really take him in?

    And yet, it was unclear if he would actually pose a threat. Should they reject him based on uncertainty alone?

    If they were to ept him, then for what reason? Because he was a friend? How far should they go for a friend? And, before that¡ªwhat even is a friend?

    The more he thought about it, the harder it became to find an easy answer. If it were just him, he would definitely ept Ice, but with the entire n involved, he couldn¡¯t force his personal opinion on everyone.

    Yet, these weren¡¯t questions meant to find a ''right answer''. In the end, it was about defining his own stance and rifying his thoughts.

    Ricardt could have spent an entire day contemting this issue, or even debating it for hours, but instead, he set aside all the words and focused on the core of the matter, speaking from his heart, without reservation.

    ¡°For now, let¡¯s protect him. Right now, we desperately need support, and he¡¯ll be a valuable ally. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s gathered plenty of information while fighting the enemies. And¡­¡±

    Ricardt trailed off. The n members listened carefully to his words, each considering them in their own way, with calm expressions.

    ¡°Right now, it doesn¡¯t seem like he has anywhere else to go. And if even we turn him away, isn¡¯t that too pitiful?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­¡±

    No one spoke. It was hard to tell whether they were for or against the idea. But his words about having nowhere else to go struck a chord in them.

    Because they, too, had each experienced being abandoned at some point. The sense of helplessness, the desperation - those who hadn¡¯t been through it couldn¡¯t understand. Maybe someone who knew that feeling should be the one to offer a hand.

    Although no one voiced explicit agreement, they all leaned toward epting Ice into the n.

    And thinking about it, Volka owed Ice his life once. Wasn''t it Ice who saved him from Lorenz at Griffinswald?

    Boribori also had a debt to Ice; without him, he might never have properly learned to use Mana Drive. If he had mishandled mana, it could have led to an ident that might have left him crippled.

    Aside from Ricardt and Marie, they all owed Ice in one way or another.

    It was a sleepless night. To be more urate, it was a night in which they had woken up in the middle and couldn¡¯t return to sleep.

    About an hourter, a deep blue color began to peel away the darkness from the edges of the world.

    With nothing else to do, Ricardt and his friends began preparing breakfast from the early hours of dawn.

    Whip! Whack! sh! Whack!

    "Ugh! Heuuk! Huk! Uk!"

    The sounds of whipping, and someone groaning through a gag, echoed through the air. This was no ordinary whipping¡ªthere was clear intent to kill in each strike.

    Young Ice stood facing the wall, listening to the sounds. He wasn¡¯t alone; a dozen or so children were lined up against the wall, facing it.

    This was the time for punishment and training to empty their hearts. Joy, sorrow, fear¡ªall of it had to be offered to the God of Judgement. Even their parents and families had to be sacrificed.

    Whip! Whack! sh! Whack!

    At some point, the groaning stopped. Perhaps... they were dead.

    Ice¡¯s gaze slowly traced the cracks in the cold brick wall.

    Imagine this as a path through a valley. As you follow the path, even if there¡¯s no exit, you can just keep walking. No need to wander, just walk. The path is already set.

    Doing this makes all thoughts disappear. No feelings arise. The sound of whipping, the groans, the final sounds of death¡ªall of it fades from hearing.

    When the priest ordered them to turn around, Ice turned to see a boy slumped over, his back yed to the ribs, barely recognizable in a mess of blood. The boy¡¯s crime had beenughing during training.

    The priest who had carried out the punishment was panting as if he might pass out. Another priest, with an extremely dry and emotionless expression, spoke to the children.

    "Brothers, the day of prophecy is near. We must push ourselves even harder. Let¡¯s not lose focus. Let¡¯s remain unwavering. Let us offer everything to the God of Judgement and return to the heavenly realm. Oh, God of Judgement, close your eyes upon us."

    ¡°Oh, God of Judgement, close your eyes upon us.¡±

    As the priest spoke, Ice and the other children echoed his words in a mechanical, puppet-like tone.

    At the priest¡¯s gesture, the children stepped forward one by one to spit on the dead boy¡¯s body.

    ¡°Ptui.¡±

    And then the next child, and the next, and the next¡­

    It was Ice¡¯s turn. He approached the boy who had died such a brutal death.

    For the briefest moment, whether it was a loud tremor or a tiny shiver, his heart stirred.

    Because the boy lying dead on the ground was his own younger brother.

    All eyes were on Ice. He couldn¡¯t show the slightest change in expression or any hint of inner turmoil. Ice spat.

    ¡°Ptui.¡±

    In that moment, Ice¡¯s heart died. He continued to live, but it was an empty existence; he was no longer truly human. He was merely a puppet that moved solely for the god.

    At least, that¡¯s how it should have been.

    Ice¡¯s eyes slowly opened.

    The clinking of dishes and the soft murmur of conversation reached his ears. It was aforting sound, gently tickling his senses.

    He could hear birds chirping in the early morning, and he could smell the delicious aroma of food.

    He saw Ricardt and the familiar faces around him. His heart, which had been pounding from the nightmare, gradually calmed down as a sense of relief washed over him.

    Ice was somewhat half-asleep from waking up in the middle of sleep. For a brief moment, he wondered if this ce was heaven.

    Ricardt, who was preparing food with Marie, looked over at Ice and spoke.

    ¡°Oh? You¡¯re awake.¡±

    Looking at the blonde boy, Ice unconsciously recalled a verse from the bible.

    <Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.> (TL: Matthew 11:28)

    Chapter 11 - Sanctuary. The End.

 Chapter 59

    <strong>Trantor: Willia</strong>

    The northern region was generally a in, but there were certain spots with raised terrain. ''Mount Ern'', also known as Ernburg, was one of those spots.

    It was too low to be called a mountain, more like a gentle hill. The city sprawled out from its center, with the entire city enclosed by a sturdy wall.

    The city wasn¡¯t particrlyrge, but a major river wrapped around its western side and flowed southward.

    The river, named the Main River, passed through the imperial capital Nibelungen, then continued to Reinfurt and beyond. Merchant ships came and went at the docks.

    The hill had been artificially carved into a series of steps, with buildings positioned at various levels. This ce was famous for its stonemasons¡¯ guild, so the buildings looked exceptionally sturdy.

    About halfway up the hill was an unusual building that seemed to be abination of two structures, one horizontal and one vertical.

    The first floor wasn¡¯t built with square bricks, but rather with stones that fit together precisely. The second and third floors were made of exposed wood, neatly stered.

    The tiled roof had a sharply pointed triangr shape, with two chimneys. The first floor had a back door, a side door, and a main entrance with an exterior porch.

    In the backyard, there was a well and a single apple tree, and next to the building, there was even a small stable.

    In the stable, a donkey waszily chewing on its fodder, gazing nkly at the people who were busily working, carrying heavy loads.

    It seemed that people and animals alike shared the cycle of working when needed and resting when possible.

    The items being carried with effort or lifted together included beds, tables, chairs, and barrels.

    ¡°You¡¯re tilting it too much to the left. No, it¡¯s too high. Just a little¡­ Okay, that should do it, right?¡±

    Ricardt looked up and said. Volka, who was standing on a chair in an ufortable position, stretched out his arms to support something. It was a signboard.

    The signboard had a carved image of an eagle holding a violet in its beak. It was the emblem representing the Beringen Adventurers'' Guild''s Ernburg branch. The violet symbolized the core n, the Vi n.

    ¡°Fuck¡­ I told you we should just hang it with iron chains¡­¡±

    ¡°You were the one whoined that it would creak in the wind.¡±

    Despite his grumbling, Volka finished his task properly. He hammered several t iron nails into the wall, securing the signboard firmly.

    He hammered in more nails than necessary, hoping that things would go smoothly from now on, and made sure it was tightly fixed.

    Bang! Bang! Bang!

    After confirming that the signboard was securely attached, Ricardt entered the building.

    As soon as he stepped inside, he saw Marie and Boribori each hauling a heavy bed up the stairs on their backs. The porters stared in disbelief, stunned.

    Since the two of them knew how to handle mana, activating their Mana Drive gave them much greater strength than ordinary people.

    Delphi was scrubbing the floor relentlessly with a boar-bristle mop, even though she had already cleaned it once.

    ¡°Ricky, all the beds are in. Can you arrange the tables?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    Ricardt dragged the heavy tables, scraping them across the floor. He roughly aligned four tables in the open area and ced a low table beside the firece.

    After arranging the chairs, he poured a little kerosene into the firece and struck a flint to ignite it.

    Keeping the fire burning would make the interior feel cozy, so it was good to have it lit at all times. The scent of burning wood lingered in the air, imparting an inexplicable sense offort.

    As Ricardt surveyed the interior, it seemed that they had managed to clear most of the dust and finish organizing. Satisfied, he simply sat down by the firece.

    Not long after, Ice, with his sleeves rolled up, walked down the stairs, followed by Marie and Boribori.

    ¡°Delphi, take a break. You¡¯re going to wear the floor out.¡±

    ¡°You have to do it right when you can. Once people starting, we won¡¯t have time for this.¡±

    Delphi spoke with a smile. Now, this ce was practically their home, so she seemed to feel no fatigue at all.

    Every corner of the building, down to the smallest details, had been touched by their hands. Someday, it would probably be a cherished memory.

    Ice¡¯s hair had regained its shine, and he had put on a bit of weight, looking somewhat healthier than before.

    He was tall and broad-shouldered, but his build wasn¡¯t particrly bulky, so even though he looked a bit lean, it was fine.

    Even though they could use mana, it wasn¡¯t exactly effortless, so Boribori and Marie twisted their stiff necks from side to side. Then, they began massaging each other¡¯s shoulders.

    Finally, Volka paid the workers and came inside. He slumped into a chair in front of the table, leaning his head back as he groaned in exaggerated exhaustion.

    ¡°Phew, I¡¯m exhausted. Let¡¯s close up shop and rest for the day.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not running a business, Volka.¡±

    They weren¡¯t a ce that served alcohol and food to the public or provided lodging. They were a ce that took requests, assigned missions, and offered shelter and supplies to adventurers.

    ¡°Whatever.¡±

    ¡°By the way, who¡¯s going to cook? When people starting, we¡¯ll need to have food ready, right?¡±

    "For now, couldn''t we just throw whatever we have in water and boil it?"

    "We should probably hire some staff too."

    ¡°Do we have any money? How much is left?¡±

    Ricardt, Boribori, and Marie all started talking at once without any structure. Volka had a hard time figuring out who was saying what.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have a single coin. We¡¯re basically broke now.¡±

    Volka, still leaning his head back against the chair, replied.

    After presenting the Count with their tribute, buying the building, beds, tables, food, and various other supplies, they hadpletely run out of money.

    ¡°Then if someone brings in a wanted criminal¡¯s head, how are we supposed to pay the bounty?¡±

    Boribori asked. Even though they weren¡¯t officially part of the Beringen Guild, they were still obligated to pay anyone who brought in a bounty target, either captured alive or just the head.

    "Ah, right."

    As if just remembering, Volka stood up, went to his room on the first floor, rummaged through his bag, and came back with a stack of documents. He then started stering them onto the wall.

    The faces of wanted criminals, each exuding a sinister aura in their own way, were now posted on the wall. The bounties ranged from as high as 50 gold coins to as low as 5 silver coins.

    After putting up thest one, he looked back at his friends and said,

    ¡°Now, it¡¯s time to make some money.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t we just go catch those guys ourselves?¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t go far, remember.¡±

    Boribori suggested, but Ricardt shook his head. While killing them wouldn¡¯t be hard, tracking them down would take time.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give it a try on my own.¡±

    Ice, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, spoke up. It seemed like he felt he needed to help in some way.

    "There''s no need for that. We need to catch bigger fish. We''ve graduated from catching these small fry."

    Ricardt shook his head again. It might have sounded boastful, but that wasn¡¯t his intention. They didn¡¯t have time, and they couldn¡¯t go far, so it was better to make big money nearby.

    "Bigger fish?"

    ¡°Yeah. Private requests from wealthy clients. After taking down the ¡®Ernburg Five¡¯, we had enough left over to buy clothes for all the academy kids, with some left to spare.¡±

    These weren¡¯t just any clothes; they were made from fabric dyed withpiszuli, a high-end material. Though the clothes weren¡¯t all finished yet, there was enough to make outfits for around 200 kids and still have money left over.

    "The Ernburg Five is a bit..."

    Surprisingly, Boribori seemed uneasy, showing a reluctant expression.

    Boribori had gained enough experience inbat by now. Reflecting on it with that experience, he realized that killing the Ernburg Five had been nothing short of a miracle.

    Thanks to some good fortune, the group of five had split into two and three, allowing them to take down two of them first and deal with each of the remaining opponents one by one. Nameless took the initiative to kill one of the remaining enemies and unsettled thest two, which was how they achieved that oue.

    But what if the situation had been reversed? What if they were the ones defending this ce, and the Ernburg Fiveunched an all-out assault? Could they actually survive?

    These foes had clear weaknesses, but their strengths were monstrous. If all five of them gathered and fought together in perfect coordination, it was hard to imagine how powerful they¡¯d be.

    There was that toad-like woman impervious to des, a giant of a man, a necromancer, and even a Sword Master. Although he hadn¡¯t seen it himself, he was certain the Phantom Sword was certainly no pushover either.

    Even if he could turn back time, Boribori would still fight them, but in their current situation, just recalling those enemies sent shivers down his spine.

    ¡°Even if it¡¯s not to that extent, there are plenty of wealthy clients. Let¡¯s start by making ourselves known at other guilds. Who says we have to wait for work toe to us? We can go out and see if there¡¯s anything avable. And I think we need to take control of the docks, or at the very least, understand how things operate there.¡±

    Ricardt hit the nail on the head. Anyone could see that Ernburg was a city sustained by trade. Listening to Ricardt, it felt like the fog was lifting, bringing everything into sharper focus.

    Volka had thought, surely they wouldn''t starve to death, things would work out somehow.

    Ricardt and his friends chatted freely about their ns for the future. Just then, someone entered the building.

    ¡°Excuse me.¡±

    The members of the Vi n paused their conversation and turned to look at him.

    It was a young man wearing a hat adorned with a hawk¡¯s feather. He wore a tunic embroidered with some detail, had a loose shawl draped over his shoulders, and his boots were spotless.

    Clearing his throat, he spoke in a resonant voice.

    ¡°Ahem, ahem. Greetings, brave adventurers. I am Harrison, a Dependent Schr of the Ernburg Trading Company. I am a lover of literature and poetry, traveling the world to capture its diverse stories and set them to song. Though I sometimes sleep beneath the open sky and call the bare ground my bed, isn¡¯t hardship the essence of romance? While gazing at the stars by night and the clouds by day, I heard word of a young hero in a red cloak arriving here, so I took the liberty ofing to meet you. It would be a tremendous honor if we could invite such a hero to ourpany¡¯s banquet.¡±

    Ricardt and his friends stared at him nkly for a moment. An awkward silence filled the room. What was his name again? Oh, right, Harrison. Who knew someone could say so much unnecessary stuff? That was a talent in itself.

    It took them a moment to mentally sort through his name and purpose.

    In any case, Ricardt agreed right away. They¡¯d been nning to make rounds and introduce themselves anyway.

    ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll go.¡±

    "How decisive. Might you be...?"

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s me. I¡¯m Ricky. The Red Cloak. Beringen Adventurers'' Guild, Vi n. Ricky.¡±

    As Ricardt introduced himself, the self-proimed bard Harrison observed him closely, careful not to appear impolite in his gaze.

    Once his inspection wasplete, Harrison walked over with a courteous stride, producing something from his pocket and extending it to Ricardt. Even as he offered it, he maintained an exaggeratedly formal posture, bowing and stepping one foot back.

    What Harrison handed over was an envelope. Breaking the red wax seal and reading its contents, Ricardt found it was simply an invitation. Addressed "To the honorable so-and-so" , it was filled with the usual formalities.

    The banquet wasn¡¯t being held especially for Ricardt; it was a regr event. However, it seemed that the presence of a well-known figure had piqued their curiosity, leading them to extend an invitation.

    ¡°Thank you. You may go now, Harrison.¡±

    ¡°It was an honor to meet you. It would be even greater if the other esteemed guests could also have the chance to behold the visage of a hero.¡±

    After exchanging final pleasantries, Harrison turned and left.

    "Is that how formal people usually are?"

    Volka asked Ricardt casually, hinting at the fact that he knew Ricardt was of noble birth.

    "I''ve only heard about it, never seen it myself. How about you, Marie?"

    "Me? Why, why me?"

    "Have you seen such formality before?"

    ¡°Well, how would I know...¡±n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    Marie tried to feign ignorance, but everyone except Delphi and Ice had already picked up on her background to some extent.

    ¡°Would you like to go with me in the evening?¡±

    ¡°To where?¡±

    ¡°To the banquet.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a dress.¡±

    ¡°So what? You''re pretty anyway."

    ¡°R-Really?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s go. Volka and Delphi can keep watch here, and Ice and Bori can check out the docks. Looks like we have just enough people.¡±

    Boribori widened his eyes and looked over at Ice. Ice looked back at him.

    There was a noticeable height difference between the two of them, and even when seated, Boribori had to look up to meet Ice¡¯s gaze.

    When Boribori grinned, Ice gave a faint smile in return. Watching Ice, Marie couldn¡¯t help but think that she¡¯d like to spar with him one day.

    This was because Ice had been the top rank at the academy before Ricardt, and Ricardt had oncepared Marie to Ice.

    But now wasn¡¯t the time for that. She decided that she¡¯d bring it up if the opportunity cameter.

    In any case, Boribori and Ice left the building first, and Delphi took Marie out to scrape together what little money they had to buy a dress.

    It was a in blue dress, the sort country girls might wear, but after some quick tailoring to fit her, it looked neat and presentable.

    Ricardt put on the cleanest spare clothes he had and strapped a dagger to his waist for self-defense before stepping outside.

    ¡°We¡¯re off.¡±

    "Yeah, have fun. No need to be too submissive. You know that, right?"

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t if I tried.¡±

    Ricardt said with augh. Then he walked alongside Marie through the evening streets.

    Only faint light escaped from the windows of buildings, leaving the city cloaked in darkness as dusk settled. Ricardt walked a little ahead, but Marie came closer and took his hand.

    Ricardt was slightly surprised, but then he realized that her hand was trembling slightly, and he could feel her small courage.

    A feeling of guilt brushed his heart, and Ricardt squeezed her hand once before loosening his grip. Instead of words, he conveyed his feelings that way. That there was no need to be shy, no need to tremble.

    They continued walking, asionally swinging their sped hands back and forth, and a childlikeughter bubbled up between them. They felt like a carefree boy and girl, simply enjoying the night.

    Ricardt and Marie walked down the slope toward the riverside. There was a mansion set apart from the docks, and even from a distance, the light spilling from its windows shone brightly.

    When they arrived, they saw several carriages parked in the courtyard, which was lit by torches here and there. These weren¡¯t transport carts for goods; they were designed for people.

    The carriages were quite valuable, requiring advanced craftsmanship to make the wheel axles properly.

    ¡°Do you know how to drink?¡±

    Ricardt asked Marie.

    ¡°No.¡±

    "Me neither. But wouldn''t it be weird if we only talk about work?"

    ¡°Who¡¯s hosting the event, anyway?¡±

    ¡°No idea. Since it¡¯s the merchants¡¯ guild, I guess it¡¯s a merchant noble? We¡¯ll find out when we go in, right?¡±

    Marieughed at Ricardt¡¯s cluelessness, since he could have easily looked at the invitation to check but hadn¡¯t bothered.

    "Stupid."

    Ricardtughed as well.

    In truth, neither of them had any reason to worry. They were both real nobility. Their bloodlines were fundamentally different from those of merchant nobility.

    One could trace their lineage back to the royal family and was a hero''s descendant. And one was of the current Emperor''s bloodline. Even though she was an adopted illegitimate child, a daughter was still a daughter.

    When they arrived at the mansion, there was someone checking invitations at the entrance. Ricardt presented the invitation, and the man inspecting it gave him a puzzled look, ncing back and forth between Ricardt and the invitation.

    ¡°Not quite what you expected, huh?¡±

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°Can we go in?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ Yes, of course.¡±

    For some reason, the gatekeeper responded with a slightly reluctant expression.

    Ricardt entered the mansion with Marie. From the central hall to the corridors, hundreds of candles illuminated the ce brightly.

    Beeswax candles weren¡¯t cheap, and the impressive wealth of this ce was evident right from the start.

    Following the sounds of lutes and flutes, along with theughter and chatter of people, they walked down the corridor and soon came upon a grand indoor hall that resembled another banquet hall.

    Some people were seated, while others stood, freely enjoying the festivities. Surprisingly, there weren¡¯t any full-grown adults in sight¡ªeveryone there appeared to be around Ricardt¡¯s age.

    Ricardt had grown quickly, now standing around the high 160s in centimeters, making him tall and sturdypared to others his age.

    Marie was of a simr height, so when this boy and girl entered the hall together, they naturally drew attention.

    There were about 30 people in total. While it wasn¡¯t as noisy as a bustling marketce, the atmosphere was lively and crowded enough.

    However, when the two neers stepped into the hall, everyone fell silent, almost as if it had been coordinated. Eyes lingered on Ricardt and Marie, and the gazes didn¡¯t waver.

    It didn¡¯t take long for Ricardt and Marie to instinctively understand why everyone was staring. Their attire was just too different.

    The other guests wore clothes embroidered with gold and silver thread, crafted by artisans with intricate skill, and they sparkled with various gemstones and jewelry.

    In contrast, Ricardt and Marie,pared to the others¡¯ extravagant outfits, looked not just in but shabby. Their clothing was simple, and they wore no jewelry on their necks, ears, or fingerspletely unadorned.

    Soon after, apanied by disdainful nces, whispers could be heard from here and there. Some of the them were clear enough to hear.

    ¡°Who let these lowly beggars in¡­?¡±

 Chapter 60

    <strong>Trantor: Willia</strong>

    Ricardt was well aware. That he didn¡¯t fit in here, and that people were looking down on him.

    For most people, those cold stares would have been enough to make them feel intimidated. But not Ricardt. He didn¡¯t flinch, nor did he resent the people around him. They all just seemed so weak to him.

    Because of that, only one thought crossed his mind: I won''t be able to stay here long.

    Marie wasn¡¯t intimidated either, though her perspective was slightly different from Ricardt¡¯s.

    She had spent her whole life training in a swordsmanship family, enduring the scorn of being treated as an illegitimate child. Then one day, out of the blue, she was told she¡¯d been legally recognized and ordered to enroll in the academy.

    An illegitimate child turned imperial princess overnight. But in reality, nothing much had changed. She had merely been notified of this fact, she¡¯d never even met her father, the Emperor, in person.

    Because of this, Marie despised people who unted their status, wealth, or power. She could sense that same air in the gazes directed at her, and it disgusted her.

    Ricardt merely gave a cursory nce at people his age, while Marie held her head high, meeting their condescending gazes with a cold and equally disdainful re.

    Perhaps because of the peculiar demeanor and atmosphere the two exuded, the way people looked at them began to change.

    Upon closer inspection, Ricardt possessed a gentle yet unyielding boyish charm, while Marie¡¯s beauty was simply overwhelming. It was as if her presence alone could render expensive clothes and jewelry irrelevant.

    The reddish glow of the candles seemed as though it had been lit solely for the boy and girl, giving the illusion that they were the focal point of the entire room.

    Ricardt took Marie¡¯s hand and began to walk, intending to take a look around the banquet hall. All eyes followed them.

    Their confident stride, unforced and natural, exuded an air of dignity that captivated the onlookers. Gradually, the gazes that had once been filled with disdain began to shift toward curiosity and subtle admiration.

    However, among those gazes, envy and jealousy simmered as well. Who do they think they are? Aren¡¯t they just penniless nobodies? Why are they acting so high and mighty?

    At any gathering, there''s always a dominant group, and within that group, there¡¯s always someone who ys the role of the leader.

    Near the firece, there was a group of young men and women seated together. Among them, a girl dressed in a deep pink dress adorned with pearls stood up, holding a fan in her hand, and began walking toward Ricardt and Marie.

    ¡°Hello there.¡±

    Ricardt, who had been casually observing the rare delicaciesid out on the table, lifted his head to look at the girl. She had a cute face, but the corner of her lips curved slightly upward, giving her an air of subtle mockery.

    "Yes."

    ¡°Is this your first time at a ¡®Rising Stars¡¯ gathering?¡±

    "Rising Stars?"

    ¡°Yes. This is a gathering of the heirs of influential families in Ernburg. Naturally, the term ¡®Rising Stars¡¯ suits us.¡±

    ¡°Well, it sounds kind of childish.¡±

    ¡°¡­What?¡±

    The girl''s eyebrow twitched for a moment, wondering if she had heard wrong.

    Out of nowhere, Ricardt found himself noticing how efficient the girl was at moving her facial muscles, her lip and eyebrow each moved independently, one at a time. He found it oddly impressive.

    "If I may ask, what is your name, young lord?"

    "Ricky. And you, mydy?"

    "I am Regina. Those close to me call me ''Cute Reggie''. If you be close to me, you might have the honor of calling me Reggie as well."

    Huh? What honor? What is this girl even talking about? Ricardt blinked, momentarily dumbfounded by her words.

    Regina wasn''t a traditional noble name. It was clearly the name of someone from a merchant family.

    While technically considered nobles, merchant families were in apletely different leaguepared to titled, traditional aristocrats. There was a stark distinction in this era.

    Still, Ricardt wasn¡¯t here to dwell on social hierarchies, so he continued the conversation without paying much mind to it.

    "By the way, are banquets usually this quiet? I thought banquets were supposed to be about people talking loudly, eating, and drinking."

    In Stormhertz, banquets were asionally held as well. However, they weren¡¯t simply for entertainment. They served the important purpose of fostering camaraderie between the lord and his retainers. It was one of the more significant events.

    Ricardt had seen even his stoic father loosen up with drink, exchanging crude jokes with the retainers during such gatherings. Because of this, Ricardt felt a certain disconnect with the atmosphere here.

    A knightly family was a lineage of warriors. While they were conservative, valuing discipline and honor, warriors were also known for their boldness when it came to revelry.

    Cultural differences existed from region to region, but such traits were usually the same across the board. Whether one was a count or a duke, families that upheld a strong martial spirit often shared this approach.

    Yet, at Ricardt¡¯s remark, Regina let out a satisfied smile.

    ¡°Hohoho, such banquets are something only country bumpkins indulge in. We¡¯re different. Shouldn¡¯t nobles maintain dignity and elegance at all times?¡±

    "Not honor and discipline?"

    "Those are things that mercenaries cling to. Unfortunately, the attire you¡¯re wearing seems far removed from anything elegant.¡±

    Regina quipped, her wordsced with barbs like tiny needles.

    However, her sharp tone had absolutely no effect on Ricardt.

    Ricardt fully understood the intentions and mindset behind Regina¡¯s words. But he merely considered her insignificant and thus felt no anger or offense.

    ¡°I¡¯m well aware that my clothes don¡¯t match this ce, If you¡¯d invited me when I had more money, I would¡¯ve dressed to suit the asion. But if my presence is so diforting, I¡¯ll dly take my leave.¡±

    ¡°Ohhohoho! No, no. Bestowing charity upon the less fortunate is also a virtue nobles should uphold. Take your time and enjoy yourself, just don¡¯t eat too greedily. It¡¯s unsightly, you know. And should you need money, depending on how you behave, I could even ask my father to lend you some.¡±

    Regina seemed to revel in what she thought was a sessful attempt to humiliate Ricardt, herughter brimming with self-satisfaction.

    But Ricardt inwardly dismissed her as nothing more than a pathetic little child. He saw no value in engaging with her further. However, Marie, who had been quietly listening by his side, could no longer hold back.

    Especially when it came to someone targeting Ricardt. This, she absolutely couldn¡¯t tolerate.

    "Excuse me, mydy. It seems you have quite the misguided fantasies about nobility."

    Marie interjected. Though her outward gaze was cold, there was a fire burning within.

    "What do you mean? I don''t quite understand. There''s no one here who isn''t noble. Naturally, that includes me. What about ''your'' family background, mydy?"

    Regina spoke confidently, raising her chin, as she was from one of Ernburg''s most prominent merchant families.

    But she was no match for Marie, whose father was the Emperor and whose maternal family held the title of Court Count.

    Though it was highly unlikely, if the two families were ever toe into conflict, Marie¡¯s side could crush Regina¡¯s merchant family with nothing more than the flick of a thumb.

    Marie found it amusing, letting out a quiet scoff. She had no intention of revealing her family background to crush such an insignificant insect. She didn¡¯t feel like it, nor did she see the need.

    "In my opinion, our family seems to be more prestigious than yours, mydy. Why? Because we can disy dignity and grace without adorning ourselves with expensive clothes and essories. How unfortunate. No matter how much you adorn yourself on the outside, it won¡¯t change the blood running through your veins. It''sughable that a mere merchant family would dare speak of elegance and dignity."

    ¡°¡­W-What did you just say?¡±

    "Besides, aren''t you just a puppet of your family, Lady Regina? You''ll soon be sold off like a pig ording to your family elders'' decisions, so where''s the dignity in that? Not me though. I''m free. Naturally, I have the freedom to choose what clothes to wear. So please, don''t project your insecurities, irritation, and frustrations onto others. It¡¯s quite pitiful to watch."

    If Regina hid needles in her words, Marie wielded a de, stabbing directly and mercilessly.

    Regina, perhaps overwhelmed by the shock, found that her once upturned lips had now ttened into a neutral line. The other merchant family heirs around her gasped, covering their mouths in astonishment.

    Regina, unwilling to admit defeat, tried to force her lips back into a smile, but it looked as difficult as lifting a boulder. She wanted to retort but ended up stuttering instead.

    ¡°W-what¡­ w-what do you mean by¡­ p-pig¡­ How¡­ how rude¡­¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you stay at home and quietly do some needlework. That suits you better."

    Marie said,pletely crushing Regina without hesitation.

    Ricardt, watching the situation, thought to himself, My mother used to do needlework all the time too, but he wasn¡¯t offended. After all, given the current context, it made sense.

    The atmosphere in the room was taut, like an overinted balloon about to burst. Just then, the voice of an adult man broke the tension.

    ¡°Hero?¡±

    Ricardt turned his head to see a middle-aged man wearing the loose-fitting hat typical of merchants looking directly at him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m a hero, but I am indeed from the Beringen Guild branch.¡±

    ¡°Ah, my apologies! I thought you hadn¡¯t arrived yet. Why didn''t that fellow report to me? My apologies again. I should have personally escorted you. Please,e this way.¡±

    It seemed like some sort of mix-up. It felt like he might have entered the wrong ce.

    ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure speaking with you, mydy. By the way, needlework isn¡¯t such a bad thing.¡±

    Ricardt said to Regina, then followed the man alongside Marie.

    The room, which had been quiet since Ricardt and Marie entered, remained silent even as they left. Meanwhile, Regina, though physically still, trembled with rage, her emotions boiling over inside her.

    "I am Marconis, the head of the Marconis Trading Company. I should have properly received you. It was my oversight. Please forgive me."

    The man who had invited Ricardt introduced himself in a reception room, where he served an expensive tea.

    The tea he served was a luxury that could only be obtained from the distant Sman region. It was more valuable than gold, not merely worth its weight in gold but literally more expensive.

    Ricardt sipped the tea with a soft slurp. It had an aroma he¡¯d never experienced before, something difficult to describe. Though the tea was hot, it gave off a cooling sensation.

    "Is the tea to your liking?"

    Marconis asked, smiling warmly. However, Ricardt felt something unsettling about that seemingly practiced smile.

    ¡°The aroma is unique. I like it,¡±

    "And you, mydy?"

    "It''s fine for me too."

    ¡°That¡¯s a relief. However, unfortunately, the banquet has ended. The ce you were in earlier was the social hall. It¡¯s where heirs from influential families in Ernburg gather to get acquainted and, if needed, find suitable matches. It must have been quite an interesting experience¡­¡±

    Ricardt immediately realized that Marconis was lying. He could tell from the man¡¯s eyes that he had intentionally guided them to that ce.

    What was his motive? To try to intimidate him? To apply pressure?

    Maybe Marconis thought that sending Ricardt into a room full of young nobles to belittle or overwhelm him would give the merchant an advantageter during negotiations or discussions.

    It was a clever technique, but shallow. Ricardt, uninterested in prolonging the conversation, decided he didn¡¯t want to engage in idle chatter. After all, he wasn¡¯t a merchant or a negotiator.

    ¡°It was fun enough, So, why did you invite me?¡±

    "Hahaha, indeed, you''re quite straightforward, as expected of a hero."

    Marconisughed at Ricardt''s direct speech and attempt to get straight to the point.

    Merchants were usually known for their drawn-out conversations, beating around the bush with carefully crafted words, like oil slicked on their tongues.

    ¡°Well then, to begin with, the first reason I invited you was to offer my greetings since I heard you recently started a business in the city. Your reputation precedes you, and I must admit, I was curious. Furthermore, adventurers¡¯ guilds have always maintained close ties with merchants, haven¡¯t they?¡±

    It was true, so Ricardt nodded. Where money flowed, swords followed, and where swords were swung, blood-stained money spilled. That was how the world worked.

    ¡°So you called me here just to greet me. But I¡¯m not exactly the best at small talk.¡±

    ¡°Haha, well, there is still a second reason, and this is the important one.¡±

    "Go on."

    "Have you heard of the Ernburg Stonemasons'' Guild?"

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve heard they¡¯re quite famous around here.¡±

    ¡°They are skilled, I won¡¯t deny that. But they¡¯re such rough people that they often cause problems. Even though we paid them the agreed construction fee as per our contract, they¡¯ve now upied the dock and are demanding more money. Just because we¡¯re merchants who deal with money doesn¡¯t mean we have an endless supply of it, you know?¡±

    Ricardt nced down at his tea. Money isn¡¯t infinite, but they still have the luxury to enjoy tea this expensive? he thought.

    "So you want me to take care of them, is that it?"

    ¡°Hahaha... That¡¯s a rather blunt way to put it. But yes, to put it simply, that¡¯s what I¡¯m asking. Every day the ship can''t sail costs us 10 gold coins. It¡¯s already been three days. What am I supposed to do?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the breakdown? Advance payment, mid-payment, and final sess fee?¡±

    Ricardt asked. He found it exhausting to engage with Marconis, who seemed determined to drag out the conversation as much as possible.

    Hearing Ricardt¡¯s direct question, Marconis reached into his pocket and pulled out a pouch of coins. With the clinking sound of gold, he carefully ced them on the table in two rows of ten. Each coin was polished to a gleaming shine, neatly lined up. It was a total of 20 gold coins.

    ¡°Twenty gold coins for the advance payment, ten for the mid-payment, and thirty for the sess fee. A total of sixty gold coins.¡±

    Of course, they¡¯d have to draw up a formal contract, but the act of disying the coins so tantly seemed like a kind of negotiation tactic.

    Sixty gold coins, it was a tremendous sum. Equivalent to 1,200 silver coins.

    Previously, capturing the leader of the Murder Guild, Haspil, ''The One Who Makes Mothers Weep'', had been worth a bounty of forty gold coins.

    ¡°I assume killing them is out of the question?¡±

    ¡°Yes, the job must be handled without bloodshed. That¡¯s why we¡¯re offering you such a high fee.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Then I¡¯ll discuss it with mypanions and get back to you. Thanks for the tea.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    Having heard everything he needed to, Ricardt stood up from his seat without hesitation. Marconis blinked in confusion, his expression a mix of surprise and disbelief.

    ¡°I said I¡¯ll contact you again. I¡¯m heading out now. Take care.¡±

    Ignoring Marconis¡¯s reaction, Ricardt left the reception room with Marie. No matter how urgent money was, he wasn¡¯t about to hastilymit to a contract.

    As they exited the mansion, Ricardt noticed several people taking carriages back home. While many stayed the night at the estate, it seemed some chose to leave.

    Like when they came, Ricardt and Marie decided to walk back to the guild building.

    As they walked along the riverside, they saw reflections of docked ships and estate lights shimmering on the dark water. The way the light rippled on the surface made it seem as though the moon itself was submerged in the river.

    The scenery was charming in its own way, but there was also a chilling atmosphere, as if an assassin might leap out from the shadows of the surrounding bushes.

    Still, Ricardt and Marie werepletely unafraid. They simply absorbed the beauty of the nighttime riverside.

    ¡°That man gives me a bad feeling.¡±

    Marie said. Though she hadn¡¯t seen through Marconis¡¯s shallow tactics as precisely as Ricardt had, she was sharp enough to sense that something was off.

    "Yeah."

    ¡°But it¡¯s a little tricky to openly antagonize him, isn¡¯t it? We need to establish ourselves in this city, and he¡¯s one of the influential figures here.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll have to wait and see how things unfold. Bori and Ice went to the docks, so let¡¯s ask them. See what the situation is like there.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡±

    The two of them continued walking past the riverside and into the bustling streets of the city at night.

    There wasn¡¯t a single soul on the streets. The reason was simple: the city at night was far too dangerous, so everyone stayed holed up in their homes.

    The boy and the girl continued walking through the empty streets. The sound of their footsteps - click-ck, thump-thump - echoed unusually loud in the stillness.

    Ricardt looked up at the stars spread across the night sky, visible between the buildings. Beside him, Marie watched the boy quietly.

    This was the extent of the distance between the two of them. To Marie, it was both a painful reality and a source of sce. She felt heartache, but at the same time, she was thankful. Thankful that even this much closeness existed. That she could reach out and take his hand if she wanted to. But she didn¡¯t reach out, not now.

    She wasn¡¯t sure why, but she thought there was sadness in the boy¡¯s eyes as he gazed at the night sky.

    Why did he stop believing in love? Even though he knew how to cherish people''s hearts. The thought suddenly made her feel pity for the boy.

    To others, Ricardt might appear to be a genius swordsman, a terrifying foe, a loyal friend, or even a hero. But to Marie, he seemed like a strangely pitiful figure.

    Because she was the only one who had ever knocked on the tightly shut door of his heart. Because of that, she could vaguely sense whaty beyond.

    To her, he was both someone to admire and someone she felt the need to protect. Those two feelings coexisted within her.

    But as the two approached the bridge under which the canal flowed, dark silhouettes appeared, blocking their path.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    Thugs? Street delinquents? Such thoughts ran through Ricardt¡¯s mind as one of the figures stepped forward, their footsteps echoing against the stone bridge. Then a familiar voice rang out.

    ¡°Among the many things that distinguish nobles frommoners, beyond dignity and etiquette, is power. Another word for it is authority. Surely, you didn¡¯t think a lowly adventurer like you could insult me, a noble, and get away with it? I hope you''re not that stupid."

    The voice belonged to none other than Regina.

    Ricardt¡¯s hand moved to the dagger at his waist. He nced toward the canal running beside the road and wondered, If I throw the bodies in there, will they be properly taken care of?

    But before Ricardt could act, Marie stepped forward first.

    "You''re really annoying."

    Perhaps because she had interrupted their precious time together, Marie''s eyes no longer concealed her anger.

    Seeing her expression, Ricardt briefly thought, Should I try to stop her? The intensity of her gaze made him feel that way, even though he himself had just been contemting how to dispose of the bodies moments earlier.

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 61

    <strong>Trantor: Willia</strong>

    As Marie, dressed in a one-piece dress, stepped forward, Regina widened her eyes in slight surprise before soon smirking triumphantly.

    ¡°It¡¯s amusing to see ady stepping up. Is this the freedom you were talking about? Stupidity isn¡¯t freedom, you know. Ohohoho!¡±

    ¡°Hiding behind others when dealing with important matters isn¡¯t behavior befitting a noble. That¡¯s just cowardice.¡±

    ¡°Oh my, does it look like I¡¯m hiding? No. This is what we call giving orders. You wouldn¡¯t understand, would you? How about you send out your frail knight now? Before you regret it.¡±

    ¡°If I do that, you might end up dead.¡±

    Marie warned her without exaggeration.

    At Marie''s consistently cold and blunt words, Regina dropped her pretense as if a mask had been torn off.

    "......You really have no sense of propriety in your speech."

    Marie, already taller than her, gave a condescending chuckle as she looked down at her. Regina no longer maintained herposure. Her smile had disappeared, and she was breathing irregrly, flushed with anger.

    In truth, what annoyed Regina the most about Marie was her appearance. By anyone¡¯s standards, Marie was more striking than she was. Even though Regina had adorned herself with expensive clothes and essories, her face couldn¡¯tpare.

    If only Marie had humbly ttered her, she might have tolerated it. But Marie carried herself with a haughty and dignified attitude, making it impossible to overlook.

    ¡°Lowly beings need to taste humiliation once toe to their senses. Showing mercy as a noble is such a difficult principle to uphold. Boys, who wants to ruin that face for me?"

    Regina spoke as she turned to the men standing behind her. There were six of them, all adults, and they looked like thugs. For someone who pretended to be so elegant, it was now obvious what kind ofpany she kept.

    ¡°Tsk, what a waste.¡±

    One of the men muttered. His words were utterly distasteful.

    The men nced at Ricardt, who was quietly standing in the back, and judged him to be nothing more than a spineless coward. What kind of man would let a woman take the lead while he stood back watching?

    But their thoughts didn¡¯tst long, because Marie suddenly closed the distance and struck one of them with a front kick delivered by her long leg.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

    Thwack!

    Her kick hit his abdomen as if a spear had been thrust into it. The man immediately dropped to his knees, vomiting the contents of his stomach like a waterfall.

    ¡°Uuurrgh!¡±

    Marie¡¯s movements were so natural and swift that these mere thugs couldn¡¯t respond in time. For a moment, they were left dumbfounded, unable to grasp what had just happened.

    Marie didn¡¯t stop there. She swung her fist in a full arc, smashing it into the face of another man.

    Crack!

    The sound of breaking bones echoed. His nose, philtrum, and jaw werepletely shattered. It was a blow that could kill someone if unlucky.

    Only then did the remaining three men feel the hair on the back of their necks stand up. A sudden realization hit them, they had messed with the wrong person.

    However, they were momentarily paralyzed, unable to respond or flee. The unexpected turn of events left thempletely bewildered, incapable of making a decision.

    Marie turned to her next target, gritting her teeth as if she were wielding a club. She unleashed a devastating kick, followed by another swing of her fist.

    Crunch! Thud!

    Two more men fell. She didn¡¯t need multiple attacks. One blow per person was enough.

    To begin with, mere street thugs who only knew how to throw punches couldn¡¯t possibly stand a chance against someone skilled in life-or-deathbat. More importantly, Marie could wield mana.

    Of course, just being able to use mana didn¡¯t guarantee victory, nor did it make one invincible. But it was clear that an ordinary person couldn¡¯t hope to handle someone like her.

    Casually, Marie pulled out a tooth lodged in her fist and tossed it to the ground. Then, she turned her gaze to thest remaining man.

    The man, frozen in ce, flinched before finally snapping out of it and trying to flee.

    But Marie grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, swept his legs out from under him, and mmed him to the ground. Then, raising her foot, she stomped down hard on his face.

    Crunch!

    While she didn¡¯t crush his skull like a watermelon, as Nameless could, the force was enough to break his nose and send his teeth scattering.

    Meanwhile, as Marie fought in her one-piece dress, Ricardt, watching from behind, felt a bit awkward seeing her white legs and hips sh asionally. He slightly regretted not stepping forward himself.

    After reducing five adult men to pulp in mere moments, Marie nudged aside the head of thest man she had stomped on and turned her gaze to Regina.

    In the dark night, her blue eyes gleamed coldly.

    ¡°This is what real power looks like, cute little Reggie.¡±

    Marie smiled as she threw Regina¡¯s own words about the differences between nobles andmoners, power and authority, back at her.

    But Regina didn¡¯t hear a word Marie said. She was too stunned to process the situation. Her mind was nk, unable toprehend what was happening.

    Wearing low-heeled shoes, Marie clicked her way toward Regina. Regina didn''t even tremble in fear, just stared nkly up at Marie with wide eyes. It was because she couldn''t even understand what was happening.

    Marie slowly raised her hand and, with all her strength, pped Regina across the face.

    SMACK!

    The p echoed like the sound of wood splitting. Regina¡¯s jawbone fractured, and she copsed unconscious to the ground. As she fell, shattered teeth scattered through the air like corn kernels.

    Once everything had ended, Ricardt stepped forward, his footsteps echoing softly, and stared down at Regina.

    ¡°She looks like a crushed rat.¡±

    Regina, who had fainted with her mouth wide open, was drooling blood-mixed saliva.

    Still, Ricardt couldn¡¯t help but think this would make any dealings with the Merchant Guild nearly impossible now. But what was done was done, there was no going back, and he didn¡¯t want to me Marie for it.

    The thought of killing her now and dumping her in the waterway to cover it up briefly crossed Ricardt''s mind, but he didn''t want to go that far at this point.

    If they were going to do it, they should have done it faster and more instantly, now there might be witnesses, he thought.

    ¡°Is your hand okay?¡±

    "Yeah. It should heal quickly if I apply Boribori''s herbs, right?"

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Honestly, I don¡¯t trust that stuff.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you two best friends?¡±

    ¡°Being friends doesn¡¯t mean I believe in everything.¡±

    "You''re so cold-hearted as always."

    With a faintugh, Ricardt walked over the bridge. The sound of their footsteps, one soft and the other sharp, faded into the distance.

    The perpetrators who had be victimsy devastated here and there.

    The next morning, Ricardt and his friends were gathered in the spacious building they had made their own. They sat around a table, sharing breakfast together.

    Volka, chewing his food, turned to Marie and spoke.

    ¡°So, let me get this straight, you just beat her up? The merchant family''s daughter?"

    ¡°Yeah. Sorry.¡±

    "Well, they threatened first, so you don''t need to be sorry... but will it be okay? It will be okay, right?"

    Volka asked, ncing at Ricardt with a look that said, You¡¯re a noble, so you¡¯ll take care of this, right?

    ¡°I heard somewhere that merchant families aren¡¯t considered nobles under Imperialw.¡±

    ¡°You sure?¡±

    "Well..."

    ¡°¡­¡±

    Volka had nothing more to say. No matter how things yed out, the responsibility would fall squarely on him. Of course, he trusted his friends, but he couldn¡¯t help but sweat a little at the thought of the consequences.

    ¡°How¡¯s the dock situation?¡±

    Boribori, who was picking out chunks from her soup with his fingers and sucking them clean, answered.

    ¡°The Stonemasons¡¯ Guild has taken over the dock. Merchant Guild ships can¡¯t leave. Apparently, it¡¯s because they haven¡¯t paid their construction fees. There wasn¡¯t any fighting yesterday, but the stonemasons looked like they were practically living there. Doesn¡¯t seem like they¡¯ll budge until they get their money.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ I see. By the way, I looked into it briefly, and it turns out the Stonemasons¡¯ Guild is made up of long-time locals here in Ernburg. The Merchant Guild¡¯s been around for a while too, but their personnel and families seem to change often. In other words, to put it simply, the Stonemasons¡¯ Guild and the Merchant Guild are the two major factions in Ernburg.¡±

    "So?"

    Ricardt asked.

    ¡°So¡­ should we get involved in their fight, or just watch from the sidelines? These things can go south real fast if we meddle in the wrong way.¡±

    "Aren''t we already past the point with the Merchant Guild? We beat up their girl."

    As Delphi gathered the empty dishes left behind by her friends, she spoke up. She wasn¡¯t ming Marie, she was just stating how things were.

    ¡°Still, we could just watch from the sidelines without interfering, right?¡±

    ¡°But if the Merchant Guild gains the upper hand, we might end up in trouble too. I think it¡¯s better to take a side while we still can.¡±

    Ricardt expressed his opinion, leaning toward actively getting involved in the fight between the two factions.

    ¡°But how are we supposed to align ourselves with the Stonemasons¡¯ Guild?¡±

    ¡°Debt collection. That¡¯s something adventurers have been doing since ancient times. It''s a very traditional line of work.¡±

    ¡°Collecting unpaid debts from the Ernburg Merchant Guild... Still, why haven¡¯t they paid? It¡¯s not like they¡¯re people who don¡¯t have money.¡±

    ¡°We can look into that. I¡¯ll go ask about it. Those guys seem to like me anyway.¡±

    Boribori said. Honestly, it was hard to be certain, but Boribori was undoubtedly the second most sociable person in the group after Volka. He was especially popr with gruff, older men.

    ¡°Alright, sounds good. But first, you guys need to learn the ropes. There¡¯s more work than you¡¯d think. Also, get to know the merchants around here, grocery store Benny, general store Grot, cksmith Waylon, and others like the tanner, the potion shop, and the textile shop. We need to familiarize ourselves with all these people if we want to source supplies. You get what I¡¯m saying?¡±

    One of the Adventurers¡¯ Guild¡¯s responsibilities was to provide supplies to visiting adventurers.

    To do so, they needed to stock up on goods in advance, making good rtionships with local merchants crucial. Food supply was especially important, so maintaining a rapport with the farmers around the city was also necessary.

    Since Volka couldn''t always handle everything alone, naturally each n member had to help as part of their duties.

    ¡°Ice, do you think you can manage it?¡±

    Ricardt asked. This was because, unlike Boribori, Ice had almost no social skills. To put it numerically, his sociability was close to zero.

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t need to say anything. Just standing there would be enough. Let¡¯s focus on introducing him to the women.¡±

    Aside from his exceptional talent in swordsmanship, Ice¡¯s stunning looks were one of his strongest assets.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never paid full price for anything in my life.¡±

    Icemented casually. What he meant was that merchants would voluntarily give him discounts.

    Was he joking? Was he serious? Everyone present burst intoughter at the absurdity of the statement. Ice, seeing their reaction, finally let a small smile slip.

    Meanwhile, a young girly on an elegant bed, her head wrapped in bandages. It was Regina. However, her face was swollen and disfigured to the point of being unrecognizable, one side bruised ck and bloated.

    Marconis, her father, stood silently, looking down at her. Other family members were in the room as well, but Marconis muttered as though speaking for everyone to hear.

    ¡°Utterly useless¡­ utterly useless¡­ tsk.¡±

    He seemed more irritated than worried about his daughter¡¯s condition.

    ¡°When was the matchmaking meeting with the Harpin family again?¡±

    Marconis asked, turning toward his grown son. The son, Armen, had sleek brown hair, neatlybed back and shining as if oiled.

    ¡°Next month, Father.¡±

    ¡°Cancel it. She¡¯s useless like this. If we wait for her to recover, she¡¯ll miss her prime marriage age. What a foolish girl.¡±

    His tone was devoid of any affection for his daughter. He seemed to regard her purely as a tool for the family¡¯s benefit.

    ¡°But Father, shouldn¡¯t we deal with the ones who did this to her?¡±

    ¡°Do you think we¡¯re some backwater country knights blinded by revenge? Haven¡¯t I always told you to weigh the benefits and costs before taking any action?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Father.¡±

    ¡°But we can¡¯t just let this slide, either. Reach out to the Beringen Guild. Investigate those two bastards thoroughly.¡±

    Marconis was a meticulous man. He wasn¡¯t the type to act impulsively out of anger.

    That said, he was undoubtedly furious. However, his anger didn¡¯t stem from the fact that his daughter had been assaulted, it was because his ns had been derailed.

    Matchmaking, engagements, and marriages were critical events for a noble family. This was because they served as opportunities to forge new alliances or strengthen existing ones.

    The fact that such an important event had been disrupted naturally caused anger and frustration.

    To make matters worse, they were currently embroiled in a conflict with the Ernburg Stonemasons¡¯ Guild, adding yet another problem to the pile.

    In truth, the Merchant Guild wasn¡¯t unable to pay the construction fees due to ack of money. Instead, they were deliberately nitpicking a use in the contract to withhold payment. The reason for this was simple, they were engaged in a power struggle with the Stonemasons¡¯ Guild and intended to subdue them.

    The Ernburg Stonemasons¡¯ Guild was essentially a collective of craftsmen who were deeply rooted in the region. They were a generational group, passing down their skills and livelihoods from parent to child.

    The Merchant Guild¡¯s ultimate goal was to bring the Stonemasons under their control,pletely seize Ernburg, and enjoy exclusive dominance over the area.

    To achieve this, their current strategy was to pressure the Stonemasons financially, drag things out over time, and then gradually provide them some breathing room, just enough to manipte them ording to the Merchant Guild¡¯s whims.

    Compared to this overarching n, his daughter being assaulted wasn¡¯t a major issue. It was annoying, yes, but hardly a catastrophe. Still, it was like a hangnail, insignificant but irritating enough to linger in his mind.

    Moreover, ''Red Cloak'' and ''Five Body Part Slicer'' needed to be dealt with carefully. Marconis was well aware of how fierce and terrifying the Ernburg Five had been, and the fact that someone had killed such people made it clear that they were no ordinary opponents.

    A few dayster, a letter arrived from the Beringen Guild. Marconis read it and frowned slightly, tilting his head.

    <We express our condolences for the unfortunate incident involving your daughter. However, we cannot disclose any information regarding our guild¡¯s adventurers. We wish you martial fortune.>

    Martial fortune? Not luck? Marconis was bothered by the phrasing of a single word. The term felt oddly out of ce for an official letter, as it wasn¡¯t the appropriate vocabry for such correspondence.

    Because the exact meaning of ''martial fortune'' referred to luck in battle victories and defeats. Were they just uneducated people using words carelessly?

    The hangnail-like irritation continued to bother him. Ignoring it felt frustrating, but addressing it felt like it might hurt more than expected. It was precisely that kind of vexing feeling.

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 62

    <strong>Trantor: Willia</strong>

    Having a river next to a vige or town made securing a water source convenient, but more than anything, the river breeze felt refreshing.

    Compared to other ind cities, Ernburg was remarkably clean, with almost no unpleasant odors, and its people''s appearances were neat and clean.

    It was truly a good ce to live. However, even in such a pleasant ce, there were still problems.

    Problems naturally arose wherever people gathered. If there was a society without any problems, it would probably be a seriously sick society.

    So there was no need to be disillusioned with people themselves because of social problems.

    Wherever you went, there would always be good people, but also some bad bastards. That¡¯s all there was to it.

    ¡°I told youst time, didn¡¯t I? That the kid who killed the Mad Dog Steiner is my friend. Tada! I brought him here! This is the guy I told you about, Ricky. Amazing, right? Hard to believe, huh? But it¡¯s true. I was there with him at the time. If you underestimate him, you might lose your head. I¡¯ve seen dozens of people like that already. Hehehe.¡±

    Boribori said this while looking at a well-built adult man wearing a headscarf. The man was none other than Mason, the guild master and leader of the Stonemason Guild.

    Mason crossed his arms and silently stared at the boy wearing a red cloak, while Boribori continued his cheeky talk.

    Frankly, just listening to Boribori¡¯s words would make it hard to believe, but Mason already knew that the famous ''Red Cloak'' had arrived here.

    However, Ricardt¡¯s gaze was directed past Mason, toward the dock.

    At the dock, several ships had been moored for days without setting sail. Around fifty members of the Stonemason Guild and their families had set up camp and were simply living there.

    The women were struggling to carry severalrge pots, lighting fires on the spot to cook meals for their families.

    This was because their livelihoods had recently be difficult, so they were cooking and eating together.

    In the pots, pale gruel floated, with fish caught from the river bobbing whole. The smell of the food wafting in the wind wasn¡¯t particrly pleasant.

    ¡°So, what do you want me to do about it?¡±

    Mason asked Boribori, his blunt tone strangely intimidating.

    But Boribori,pletely unbothered, spoke in his usual way, whether out of confidence, cheerfulness, or sheer thoughtlessness, it was hard to tell.

    With his phanton sword strapped to his waist, eyes wide, and finger raised, he spoke as if he was enthusiastically trying to sell something.

    ¡°We¡¯re adventurers, right? When there''s trouble, it''s our job to handle it for you. Of course, we do require a smallmission. So, we can collect your unpaid money for you. How about it? Don''t we seem reliable?"

    In reality, they were far from looking reliable. Boribori was barely 160 centimeters tall, and though Ricardt was as tall as an adult, his youthful face betrayed his age.

    No matter how great their reputation, it was hard to truly believe when they came from such a different world.

    But this was Ernburg. While they weren¡¯t always here due to their wanderings, this ce had once been the nominal stronghold of the Ernburg Five.

    The people here knew best just how terrifying those five had been. And this boy had killed them.

    The rumors had already spread. A boy in a red cloak, Boribori the Five Body Part Slicer, and Nameless X, the heroes of Siegfringer had eliminated the Ernburg Five.

    The stonemason wearing a headscarf silently stared at Ricardt. But Ricardt¡¯s gaze remained fixed on the people eating their meals.

    When Mason followed Ricardt¡¯s gaze, he saw people scraping the bottoms of threerge pots, more than ten people crowding around each one. The fish gruel was gone in an instant.

    Mason turned back to Ricardt and spoke.

    ¡°As you can see, this is our situation. We don¡¯t have the money to make a request to the Adventurers¡¯ Guild.¡±

    Ricardt¡¯s red cloak fluttered in the wind. Whatever he was thinking about, Ricardt continued to watch the people eating their gruel.

    A woman feeding her baby first, a child squeezing between their siblings to barely manage to grab a single piece of meat, an elderly man insisting he had no appetite and giving up his portion to the children.

    Ricardt took in these scenes with his eyes, then turned to Mason and asked,

    ¡°Themission fee cane from the unpaid money and its interest, we¡¯ll take that interest as our payment. But before that, could you tell us what happened? I heard that this person Marconis had paid for the construction."

    At that, Mason led Ricardt and Boribori somewhere. They arrived at a spot near the dock where wooden crates were stacked, and Mason pulled out a contract to show them.

    The man pointed to a particr use in the contract with his finger:

    <If additional construction materials are required, the guild will procure these materials independently toplete the construction, and the merchant association will pay for the cost of the additional materials.>

    The Stonemason Guild wasn¡¯t just a group of people who chiseled stones or worked with masonry.

    While the term ¡°stonemason¡± referred to someone who carved and polished stones, the Stonemason Guild had a broader meaning. They were the ones who oversaw andpleted the entire construction process.

    From design, surveying, and material procurement, to transportation and on-site construction, they handled everything rted to building. They even hired localborers to secure the workforce.

    The Ernburg Stonemason Guild was famous because they built everything, from ordinary homes to a lord¡¯s castle, city walls, and temples.

    Despite being a group of highly skilled artisans, they were not treated well socially.

    Even if they were entrusted with a massive project that cost astronomical amounts of money, after deductingbor costs and the price of materials, the guild itself received very little in the end.

    Their skills were passed down from generation to generation and developed over time. It wasn¡¯t something one could learn in an educational institution or academy.

    For this reason, if a group like this copsed, it would be impossible to recover their expertise.

    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying the construction fee was paid, but the problem lies with the additional costs. It¡¯s clearly written in the contract, why aren¡¯t they paying?¡±

    Ricardt¡¯s tone carried a sense of confusion, but the truth was that it wasn¡¯t surprising. It was obvious at a nce that the merchant association was pulling a scummy move to avoid paying. Still, he asked anyway to confirm.

    ¡°They said, ¡®How can we know whether additional materials were actually needed after the construction is alreadypleted?¡¯¡±

    It was tant nitpicking.

    No matter how meticulously a contract was written, there had to be mutual trust when executing an agreement. Whether it was due to ack of trust or deliberate malice, the merchant association clearly wasn¡¯t holding up their end.

    ¡°But here¡¯s what I¡¯m curious about. Even if additional materials were needed, couldn¡¯t you just build with what you had, to match the amount of money you received?¡±

    Or, alternatively, couldn¡¯t they stop construction midway and renegotiate the terms? Ricardt wondered if it was really necessary for the guild to go out of pocket toplete the building.

    Mason, the leader of the stonemasons, gazed at Ricardt for a moment before suddenly asking him a question in return.

    ¡°Why do you wield a sword?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Is it for the sake of indulging in your own power, like the Ernburg Five did?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡±

    "We have traditions and principles. ''When building something, build it as if it willst forever.'' It¡¯s a saying that has been passed down to us for countless generations. We¡¯ve built homes, raised castles, and constructed cities. Even if the owners of those buildings vary, we¡¯re the ones who brought them into existence with our hands.

    ¡°Look at this city. Look at this dock. Look at that city wall over there. Every one of them was built by my father, my grandfather, and my ancestors.¡±

    There was a palpable sense of pride in Mason¡¯s words.

    Ricardt followed his gaze, looking first at the dock nearest to him, then at the houses scattered across the city in the distance, and finally at the city walls.

    They all appeared different to him now. Indeed, all of those were things that had been built by human hands.N?v(el)B\\jnn

    Buildings that had stood for mere years, decades, or even centuries still stood firm and unwavering. Perhaps the very home they lived in had been built by these people.

    ¡°You probably kill people easily and earn money just as easily. That¡¯s why we must look foolish to you. But to us, there¡¯s a value more important than simply making a living. We¡¯re willing to endure hunger to uphold that value.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t seem foolish to me.¡±

    ¡°...¡±

    ¡°You seem admirable, actually. If my question was rude, I apologize. I was just curious.¡±

    Ricardt apologized with a smile, his demeanor as refreshing as the river breeze. Apologizing to someone like Mason didn¡¯t feel the least bit embarrassing or humiliating.

    Mason looked at Ricardt with a sense of surprise, as if finding him unexpected. He had assumed Ricardt would be arrogant, but that wasn¡¯t the case.

    In truth, Ricardt¡¯s attitude varied depending on the person. When he needed to, he could be arrogant, but he respected Mason because Mason was a man of admirable principles.

    "Let''s set aside making the contract for now. First, do you agree to let us collect the unpaid money?"

    ¡°If you can get it for us, we¡¯d be grateful.¡±

    ¡°Good. Let¡¯s go, Bori.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Huh? Where?¡±

    ¡°Where else? To collect the money.¡±

    With a sword slung over one shoulder, Ricardt strode away from the dock. He was heading toward the mansion he had visited the day before for the banquet.

    Boribori hurried to catch up with him, asking,

    ¡°Is it okay to do this without even writing a contract?¡±

    ¡°You can tell just by looking, whether someone is decent or a scumbag. The merchant association¡¯s lot gave off a slimy vibe. If we¡¯re going to settle down in this city, we need to think long-term, right? That means it¡¯s better to judge by people, not money.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m asking if it¡¯s okay to skip the contract altogether.¡±

    ¡°Nobles stake their lives on their word. Some even consider signing a contract an insult.¡±

    ¡°Eh... Since when did you start acting like a noble, Ricky?¡±

    ¡°You punk.¡±

    Ricardt roughly ruffled Boribori¡¯s hair. Despite Boribori being fourteen years old and on the verge of adulthood next year, Ricardt, two years younger, was the taller and more robust of the two.

    ¡°So, how exactly are we getting the money back?¡±

    ¡°Simple. By force.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t as if trials didn¡¯t exist in this era, but most disputes were resolved through force rather than legal proceedings.

    Trials took a long time, and unless the local lord presided over them directly, they weren¡¯t very effective. Even if you won, there was nothing you could do if the losing party simply refused toply, saying, ¡°Take what you want over my dead body.¡±

    Of course, there were different types of trials, and one of them, trial bybat, offered a clean resolution to disputes. Every legitimate noble had the right to demand a trial bybat.

    Ricardt, being a legitimate noble himself, had confidence in this. If push came to shove, he could always demand a trial bybat.

    Besides, when it came to recovering unpaid money, there weren¡¯t many options other than using force.

    Arriving at the gates of the mansion he had visited the previous day, Ricardt called out to the gatekeeper.

    ¡°You remember me from yesterday, right? Please open the gate.¡±

    The gatekeeper peered through the gap in the beautifully carved gate, recognized Ricardt, and obediently opened it. He remembered Ricardt because of the shabby clothes he had worn the day before.

    ¡°What brings you here, my lord?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here to collect unpaid money.¡±

    ¡°...Huh?¡±

    The gatekeeper looked confused, clearly not understanding what Ricardt was talking about.

    But Ricardt didn¡¯t wait for a response. He pushed the gate open and strode into the courtyard. As he strolled around the estate, taking everything in, his gaze eventuallynded on the stables.

    ¡°Bori, grab a bridle.¡±

    "Huh, what are you nning?"

    "Let''s sell these horses to cover the unpaid debt.¡±

    "Huuuh?"

    Horses were incredibly valuable. Even the cheapest ones, excluding pack horses, were worth several gold coins. The expensive ones were worth prices that could soar to unimaginable heights.

    The stable was quiterge and well-built, and when Ricardt entered, he found five massiverge inside.

    Ricardt chose the horse with the glossiest coat and the best physique among them. It was clear at a nce that it had been meticulously cared for.

    ¡°Wh-who are you?¡±

    The stable boy, who had been sweeping the floor, was flustered when strangers entered. But Ricardt paid him no attention. He grabbed a bridle and ced it on the striking brown horse with white spots.

    ¡°Wh-who are you? Please don''t touch them."

    ¡°Don¡¯te any closer. I might kill you.¡±

    Ricardt threatened while drawing his dagger. While it was essentially robbery, it was forced collection ording to the contract.

    The gleaming edge of the sharp dagger radiated menace, and the terrified stable boy panicked, immediately bolting to inform his employer.

    In the meantime, Ricardt saddled the horse, led it outside, and climbed onto its back. Having taken riding lessons back at his home, he was quite good at it.

    Boribori, on the other hand, didn¡¯t know how to ride a horse, so he simply grabbed the reins of another horse and hurried out.

    Ricardt, already mounted, rode into the mansion¡¯s inner courtyard and waited for Boribori.

    Clop clop. Clop clop. Clop clop.

    He trotted around, trampling the grass as if he owned the ce, casually turning the horse in different directions.

    The imposing sight of a person on horseback naturally overwhelmed onlookers, and the mansion¡¯s staff stopped what they were doing to stare in shock.

    ¡°Open the gate! Or I¡¯ll trample you!¡±

    Ricardt shouted, pointing his sword at the gatekeeper. Faced with the massive horse, the gleaming sword, hismanding voice, and his fierce re overwhelmed the gatekeeper, who instinctively flung the gates wide open.

    By then, Boribori had managed to slip outside.

    At that moment, Marconis stormed out of the mansion, his face a mix of outrage and disbelief.

    ¡°W¡ªwhat do you think you¡¯re doing?!¡±

    Ricardt looked down at him from atop the horse and sneered.

    ¡°I¡¯m here to collect unpaid debts. You should have paid your debts on time. If the value of this horse isn¡¯t enough, I¡¯ll be back for more. Farewell. Hyah!¡±

    Then he brazenly spurred the horse and galloped out of the mansion. The rough hooves kicked up clouds of dust.

    Clop! Clop! Clop! Clop!

    His blonde hair streamed in the wind, and his red cloak fluttered.

    The mansion¡¯s staff couldn¡¯t take their eyes off the picturesque sight of the boy as he disappeared into the distance. Indeed, it seemed that noble lineage wasn¡¯t proven by appearances alone but by bold actions and an unshakable demeanor.

    Meanwhile, Marconis, the owner of the horse, was left utterly dumbfounded, staring nkly at Ricardt as he vanished.

    Because the horse Ricardt had just taken was worth far more than the unpaid debt.

 Chapter 63

    <strong>Trantor: Willia</strong>

    At the southwestern outskirts of Ernburg, a horse market was in full swing. The ce was bustling with people.

    A wide open field stretched around the hillside. Adjacent to the field were makeshift stables and enclosures filled with various horses, ponies, pack horses, multipurpose horses, and even riding horses for nobles or wealthy individuals.

    In the wide open field, horse traders asionally wandered around holding reins. While this served to advertise their horses, it was also a way for them to showcase their horse-handling skills.

    Taking care of horses required significant expertise and experience. Especially the training and breeding techniques possessed by the horse masters of emperors, kings, and great nobles, these were considered state secrets. Revealing such knowledge carelessly could result in a gruesome execution.

    Most of the horses at the horse market were pack or multipurpose horses, with only a handful of well-kept riding horses. As for warhorses, none were in sight, perhaps one or two could be found if you looked hard enough.

    People were haggling with horse traders here and there. Some were genuinely buying out of necessity, while others sought to purchase horses for breeding purposes.

    There were even people selling off horses, which were family assets, though their stories were unknown. These horses weren¡¯t of particrly good breeds, but they had clearly been washed and brushed thoroughly to appear as neat as possible, likely in hopes of fetching a slightly better price.

    Suddenly, someone on horseback came galloping into the open field. A red cape fluttered dramatically, drawing attention.

    Clop! Clop! Clop! Clop!

    ¡°Whoa, whoa!¡±

    ¡°H-Hey!¡±

    The people wandering the field holding reins were startled and flustered. Horses required careful handling, as any idents could severely decrease their value.

    ¡°Apologies, I¡¯m in a hurry.¡±

    The person who appeared on horseback was none other than Ricardt. Mounted on the horse, Ricardt rode around the field erratically.

    Though his actions seemed outrageous at first, the horse traders who initially stared in disbelief soon found their gazes fixed on the horse Ricardt was riding. Their expressions were akin to falling in love at first sight.

    The horse Ricardt rode was well-proportioned, with a bnced and stable frame. Its sleek yet muscr build was strikingly evident. At a nce, it was unmistakably a warhorse.

    Warhorses were in a league of their ownpared to other horses, with their prices soaring sky-high. This was because their breed was rare and they required special training from a young age.

    Warhorses were no longer just herbivores. They had to possess fierce bravery, endurance that allowed them to withstand spears and des, and loyalty and obedience to their masters.

    On top of that, qualities such as eleration, stamina, agility, and responsiveness would push their value to the point where they were almost priceless.

    Of course, it was nearly impossible for a horse to possess all of these traits. If one did, even the emperor would treasure it for his personal use.

    For knights, a horse was both the beginning and the end, a symbol of honor and life itself. There were even stories of a king from long ago who sold a castle to purchase a prized horse.

    Naturally, such horses were one in a thousand among warhorses. When paired with the right era and a hero, they would go on to create legendary tales.

    Though the horse Ricardt was riding wasn¡¯t quite at that level, it was undeniably the finest in the current horse market.

    ¡°Urgent sale! Anyone interested? Urgent sale!¡±

    Ricardt rode around the field recklessly, shouting at the top of his lungs. The field was actually a space where strict order was maintained, with people taking turns walking their horses slowly in line. But Ricardt paid no mind to such rules.

    And no one pointed it out either. The horse was simply too magnificent; everyone was captivated.

    Among them was a man in silk clothes surrounded by people. He was a man with an impressive build and a beard that reached down to his chest.

    This man, who had been watching Ricardt¡¯s erratic behavior from afar, eventually mustered the courage to approach him and struck up a conversation.

    "Hey, young man."

    Ricardt turned his head at the sound of someone calling him. Just then, Boribori came panting, holding the reins of another horse. Ricardt took the reins from him and walked toward the man who had called out.

    ¡°I actually have two horses for sale. If possible, I¡¯d prefer you to buy them both together.¡±

    His abrupt manner of speaking made it obvious he was no merchant. The man in silk clothing chuckled faintly at this.

    The man calmly patted the neck and head of the horse Ricardt was riding, examining its condition.

    It was excellent. The horse showed clear signs of meticulous care and devotion. Anyone could tell at a nce whether a horse had been handled roughly or treated with love and affection.

    The horse Boribori had brought along paled inparison to the one Ricardt was riding. However, it wasn¡¯t a bad horse either.

    After inspecting the horses, the man in silk looked up at Ricardt and asked,

    ¡°Do you know what kind of horse this is that you¡¯re so urgently trying to sell?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a pretty good horse.¡±

    ¡°This is a warhorse. The kind knights ride. Warhorses are divided into coursers and destriers, and coursers are much more expensive than other horses. But destriers are far more expensive than coursers. Do you know this?"

    Even among destriers, there were various grades from legendary warhorses to those ridden by ordinary knights.

    Judging by its physical attributes alone, the horse Ricardt was riding was among the better destriers. Of course, traits like bravery and endurance would need to be tested to know for certain.

    ¡°I know that much. My father used to ride a destrier.¡±

    ¡°...Hmm.¡±

    If his father was a knight, that meant he was from a knight family. However, the man in silk clothes wasn''t intimidated at all and didn''t seem to care much.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you 180 gold coins for the pair.¡±

    ¡°400.¡±

    ¡°Hahaha! Ambitious, I like that, but you¡¯re being utterly unreasonable, young man. I clearly heard this is an urgent sale?¡±

    ¡°Right, it¡¯s an urgent sale. So, let''s see, how about 390?"

    ¡°Thanks for letting me see a fine horse. Go find another buyer.¡±

    When Ricardt named an outrageous price, the man in silk patted the horse¡¯s neck twice and turned to leave.

    Ricardt quickly followed after him.

    ¡°Fine. 200.¡±

    ¡°180. I don¡¯t feel like haggling anymore.¡±

    ¡°Alright, 180 it is.¡±

    Ricardt dismounted and spoke. The man gestured with his hand, and someone promptly brought over a pouch of money. He handed over two slightlyrge pouches and one smaller pouch.

    Ricardt opened the pouches to verify the money. Just by running his fingers through the coins, he urately counted the amount. It was exactly 180 gold coins.

    ¡°Ri... Ricky, what do we do? We¡¯re rich now.¡±

    Boribori, wide-eyed at the sheer amount of money, grabbed Ricardt and began shaking him enthusiastically. Growing up in poverty, Boribori had developed a fondness for money.

    But then, they heard the sound of horse hooves rushing toward them.

    Clop! Clop! Clop! Clop!

    Riding hard toward them was Marconis, bareheaded, his partially bald scalp gleaming. He wasn¡¯t even wearing the hat he usually kept on.

    ¡°Hey! Hey! That horse isn¡¯t for sale!¡±

    Marconis rushed over, stopping his horse right in front of Ricardt and the man in silk. He dismounted hurriedly, clearly flustered. His eyesnded on the money pouch in Ricardt¡¯s hand, it was already toote; the transaction wasplete.

    ¡°Hey you, that horse is not for sale.¡±

    Marconis directed his words toward the man in silk. The man alternated his gaze between Ricardt and Marconis before letting out a mocking snort.

    Instead of responding, he whistled sharply and snapped his fingers toward the crowd nearby.

    At the whistle, a group of people mounted the horses inside the enclosure and began approaching. Although lightly armored, they looked like marauders, wielding spears and swords.

    Moreover, their appearance marked them as foreigners. Ricardt had only heard of them before, small eyes and low nasal bridges suggested they were nomadic people from somewhere far in thends of the Sman.

    Seeing nomads for the first time in their lives, both Ricardt and Boribori stared with wide, astonished eyes. Were they mercenaries? Or something else?

    Regardless, the riders, armed and mounted, red coldly at Marconis. There was nothing more terrifying than people you couldn¡¯tmunicate with.

    On top of that, there were gruesome rumors about nomads: they rode horses with supernatural skill, and some even said they were cannibals.

    Under their fierce res, Marconis, though in a hurry, gulped nervously, tension evident on his face.

    ¡°1,000.¡±

    The man in silk clothing said curtly. If Marconis wanted to buy the horse back, he would have to pay 1,000 gold coins.

    The price was so outrageous that anyone could tell it was intentionally exaggerated. Overwhelmed by the man¡¯s authority, Marconis couldn¡¯t muster a response.

    ¡°If you can¡¯t pay, then get lost.¡±

    The man in silk said firmly.

    Marconis opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. He seemed convinced that if he said the wrong thing, his life might be at stake.

    As a merchant, he had no courage to risk his life for a horse. Defeated, he retreated without a word, ncing back at the horse market over and over, unable to hide his lingering regret.

    Watching Marconis leave, Ricardt turned to the man in silk and asked,

    ¡°So, this horse was actually worth 1,000 gold coins?¡±

    The man in silk let out a soft chuckle.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

    ¡°A fine horse isn¡¯t something you can simply price. If fate doesn¡¯t bring you together, you may never encounter one, no matter how much money you have. cing a price on such a thing is foolish.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re a horse trader. Surely you know the market value of something like this?¡±

    The man in silk gave Ricardt a subtle smile.

    ¡°Do I really look like a trader to you?¡±

    ¡°...Huh?¡±

    ¡°Whether you stole the horse or whatever, you got what you needed, and we both benefited from this deal, didn¡¯t we?¡±

    With that, the man turned and walked away. Following his lead, the nomads dismounted from their horses as well.

    Ricardt couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that this man wasn¡¯t just some ordinary horse trader. Was he really the leader of a band of marauders?

    In any case, with the salepleted, Ricardt and Boribori hurried to the docks. There, they met Mason, the master of the Stonemason Guild, and asked.

    ¡°How much is the unpaid debt?¡±

    In truth, Ricardt didn¡¯t even know how much was owed. He had simply barged in, seized the horses, and sold them.

    ¡°With the transportation fees included, ites to 120 gold coins.¡±

    Ricardt handed over the 120 gold coins on the spot. Mason, who clearly hadn¡¯t expected to actually receive the money, widened his eyes in shock.

    ¡°Th-this... how...?¡±

    ¡°How? I just barged in, took the horses, and sold them.¡±

    ¡°...¡±

    ¡°When ites to collecting unpaid debts, you need to use force. Sitting around at the docks won¡¯t get you anywhere.¡±

    Whether bold or shameless, Ricardt said this as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And it was true, in reality, it was nearly impossible to recover unpaid debts without resorting to force.

    Ricardt looked at the people still camped out at the docks, waiting for their money. ¡°At least they don¡¯t have to live out here anymore,¡± he thought to himself. That alone made the effort worthwhile.

    "By the way, we haven''t even written a contract yet, have we?"

    Boribori asked. Now that he mentioned it, that was true. But a verbal contract was also a formal contract.

    The only issue with verbal agreements was that they were hard to enforce if a dispute arose. But as long as both parties upheld the agreement, it didn¡¯t matter.

    ¡°We still have money left.¡±

    They had a surplus of 60 gold coins. Come to think of it, they hadpleted one request and earned 60 gold coins in less than an hour.

    However, Ricardt stared quietly at the coin-filled pouch before turning to Boribori.

    "How much interest should we charge?"

    ¡°Hmm... Well, from what I heard yesterday, the debt hasn¡¯t been paid for three days? That makes today the fourth day.¡±

    The interest rate could be set as desired, but generally it was 10% per day.

    It was an era of harsh interest rates. For this reason, it was best to avoid borrowing money whenever possible, and if you did borrow, you had to repay it on time no matter what.

    Inparison to ruthless usury, a 10% daily interest rate was actually quite reasonable.

    ¡°12 coins times 4 days is 48 gold coins. Let¡¯s return the rest.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Why?¡±

    ¡°We need to have principles too. We should only take what we¡¯ve earned. Otherwise, how are we any different from thieves?¡±

    "Hmm... You''re right."

    Boribori replied, though his disappointment was obvious. Still, he decided to go along with Ricardt¡¯s reasoning.

    Ricardt had heard Mason''s words about keeping tradition and principles, and he thought those words were right.

    It was one thing to keep spoils of war, but payment for a job should be precise and fair. That was how Ricardt saw it.

    With that in mind, Ricardt and Boribori headed straight back to the mansion.

    When they arrived, the mansion was in chaos, no doubt because of the ruckus they had caused earlier. And when the instigator of themotion, Ricardt, showed up again, the people in the mansion were so dumbfounded they could only blink in disbelief.

    Ricardt grabbed the nearest person and asked,

    ¡°Where¡¯s Marconis?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes? Uh, w-why?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here to return the extra money.¡±

    ¡°...He¡¯s in the office on the second floor¡­¡±

    Without hesitation, Ricardt walked straight into the mansion as if it were his own home. He made his way to the second-floor office and flung the door open.

    Inside, Marconis was sitting at his desk, holding his head in his hands. Startled, he shouted angrily,

    "I said no one shoulde in...!"

    But he stopped mid-sentence when he realized it was Ricardt who had entered. His face froze in shock.

    ¡°I sold the horse and got 180 gold coins. I gave 120 gold coins to the Stonemason Guild, and we kept the interest for ourselves. Since you didn¡¯t pay for four days, we took 10% interest per day, whiches to 48 gold coins. I¡¯m here to return the remaining 12 coins.¡±

    With that, Ricardt spread the 12 gold coins out on the desk.

    Marconis stared at Ricardt in stunned silence, so taken aback that he let out an incredulous huff of air.

    ¡°...Hah!¡±

    ¡°What? Are you upset?¡±

    ¡°...Do you have any idea what kind of horse that was?¡±

    "No, I don''t."

    ¡°What did you just say?¡±

    ¡°Do I need to know? All I know is that you didn¡¯t pay your debt, and we took on the job of collecting the money for the Stonemason Guild. Isn¡¯t unpaid debt typically collected through force? You¡¯re a merchant, you should know this better than anyone.¡±

    ¡°Hah... Fine. Let¡¯s say you¡¯re right about that. But do you even understand who I am? I¡¯m not just anyone, I¡¯m a member and chairman of the Ernburg Merchants'' Guild. Do you really think I¡¯ll let something like this slide? You really have nomon sense! And what is this? 12 gold coins? Ha! Are you joking!?¡±

    Marconis¡¯s temper red, and he seemed to be losing hisposure. Even someone as calcting and shrewd as him couldn¡¯t seem to bear the loss of the horse. Despite not being a knight, he seemed deeply attached to the destrier.

    But then again, even for non-knights, horses, especially destriers, represented a kind of dream or romantic ideal. Alongside swords, they were symbols of pride for men. This was why Marconis, despite not being a warrior, had insisted on riding such a fine destrier in the first ce.

    Ricardt watched Marconis panting in anger, his bewilderment evident.

    ¡°What¡¯s this merchant guild supposed to be, anyway? And what are you going to do if you don''t let it go? Nomon sense? If I were Mad Dog Steiner, do you really think your head would still be attached to your shoulders? Do you want me to show you what realck ofmon sense looks like? Unbelievable.¡±

    At the mention of Mad Dog Steiner, Marconis flinched visibly. His entire body trembled, and hisposure finally began to return. It was only now that he fully grasped what kind of person the boy standing in front of him was.

    Ricardt stared coldly at Marconis, his expression sharp and unyielding. The oppressive air around him grew heavy, and an unmistakable killing intent radiated from his gaze.

    Marconis¡¯s heart pounded wildly, and cold sweat ran down his face. Unconsciously, the thought that he was about to die filled his mind. The look in Ricardt¡¯s eyes wasn¡¯t human.

    ¡°Listen carefully, Marconis, if you¡¯re a merchant, then act like one. People with money always think they¡¯re untouchable, like they¡¯re something special and cross lines, and that¡¯s how they end up dead. It¡¯s not for any other reason. Are you a knight? Are you going to ride that horse into battle and fight on the front lines? Is a horse as precious as your life? It¡¯s not, is it? If you don¡¯t want to die, learn your ce. Got it?¡±

    Ricardt delivered his warning as if he was genuinely about to kill him, then turned and left the office with Boribori following behind. Before stepping out, Boribori gave a quick bow.

    As Ricardt left, Marconis felt like he could finally breathe again. The suffocating pressure that had gripped him lifted. For the first time, the reality of the boy who had taken down the Ernburg Five sank in.

    Yet, Marconis couldn¡¯t help but think that Ricardt wasn¡¯t normal either. ncing at the 12 gold coins spread out on the desk, he concluded that Ricardt was a different breed of lunatic than Mad Dog Steiner.

    If Ricardt had taken everything, that would¡¯ve been easier to understand. But returning 12 coins? What kind of logic was that? From beating his daughter to seizing his horse and then returning the leftover money, every action Ricardt took was iprehensible.

    At that moment, Marconis realized something. The belief that he could manipte or tame the beast that had killed the Ernburg Five was nothing but a delusion.

    Beasts like lions or tigers were undeniably captivating. Their leisurely gait, their casual lounging, it was elegant, beautiful, even majestic.

    But just because they were alluring didn¡¯t mean you could approach them and touch them. Doing so could lead to catastrophe. Those same beasts would bare their ws and fangs, ripping a person apart.

    Sttered blood, spilling entrails, crushed and torn limbs.

    When tigers disappear from the mountains, foxes and wolves tend to rise to power, and Marconis realized that he was just such a fox or wolf.

    No matter how smart someone was, there were times when sess dulled their instincts. That had happened to him.

    There were true predators in the world, beasts in human form. And provoking such people was sheer foolishness.

    Marconis had always prided himself on his motto: ¡°Before doing anything, always weigh the profit and the loss.¡±

    But now he understood, before calcting profit and loss, he had to consider whether he might die first.

    Chapter 12 ¨C Tiger in the Mountain. End.

 Chapter 64

    <strong>Trantor: Willia</strong>

    The task of collecting money from the Merchants¡¯ Guild on behalf of the Stonemasons¡¯ Guild had established Ricardt''s presence throughout Ernburg. Furthermore, it had created a promotional effect for the Beringen Guild Branch.

    People naturally began to recognize that entrusting requests to the Beringen Guild Branch meant they would be fulfilled reliably. As a result, the guild branch was able to secure its position in the city almost immediately.

    Although unintentional, Ricardt''s actions also mediated between the two major factions of the city, the Stonemasons¡¯ Guild and the Merchants¡¯ Guild. The guild branch effectively yed the role of bncing the scales between them.

    Moreover, thanks to Volka and his friends'' efforts, they were able to quickly be friendly with the surrounding merchants.

    They were now able to receive a steady supply of food, various travel goods, andbat equipment. For the merchants, having a stable business partner was also a good thing, creating mutual benefits for both sides.

    Now, there was only one thing left to truly settle in this ce: time.

    Over the years, as children grow, lovers be married couples, give birth to children, and raise them while aging together, the Vi n would naturally blend into this ce.

    When Volka and Delphi married and had children, it was possible that one day, their child would hear stories like this.

    A long time ago, there was a terrible band of five viins here, but my friend defeated them.

    Ernburg was structured with a paved uphill road running straight through the center, with side roads branching off like twigs here and there.

    The Ern Mountain had been artificially cut andyered into terraces, creating spaces where buildings were constructed. The entire mountain resembled onergeplex.

    At the very top of Ern Mountain stood a very small castle that had been built long ago. It was almost too modest to even be called a castle, but a few buildings surrounded it, forming the core of the area.

    From the summit, one could look down at the entire Main River area. The Stonemasons¡¯ Guild members and their families had returned to their livelihoods, and the Merchants¡¯ Guild¡¯s ships finally sailed along the Main River.

    At first, the merchant ships rowed with oars, but as soon as the wind became favorable and the sails were unfurled, they sped away in no time.

    At one corner of the Ern Mountain summit, Ricardt, without a cloak and carrying only a single dagger, gazed at the slowly but swiftly moving ships.

    In one spot on the river, sunlight shimmered as it fragmented into tiny sparkles. The cool breeze blowing from the river tousled Ricardt''s hair.

    ¡°Hey? Ricky oppa is cking off.¡±

    A youthful voice rang out behind Ricardt as he admired the tranquil view of the river. When he turned around, he saw Benibeni, the daughter of Beni from the grocery store. (TL Note: I previously tranted Beni as Benny.)

    The repetition of names often happened when parents passed on their own names directly to their children. When the parents passed away, one part of the name would be dropped, leaving just the name.

    Benibeni, a six- or seven-year-old girl, often wandered around the Adventurer¡¯s building, pretending to help but mostly annoying the adults. Still, everyone found her adorable. Of course, anyone could tell she came there just to see Ice.

    ¡°I¡¯m not cking off. I¡¯m just taking a break.¡±

    ¡°My mom says that daytime hours are golden hours. So if you ck off, you¡¯re throwing away gold.¡±

    ¡°I told you, I¡¯m not cking.¡±

    ¡°But other people are working, though. Uncle Volka was looking for you!¡±

    ¡°Agh, seriously.¡±

    Ricardt, as usual, tried to avoid the bothersome Benibeni and took the back path down the mountain.

    The back path wasn¡¯t really a proper road, it was more like a trail that had formed from people casually walking that way.

    The slope was steep and somewhat dangerous, but it was certainly faster to go down that way.

    ¡°Don¡¯t follow me, you¡¯ll get hurt.¡±

    ¡°Ricky oppa is running away! Marie unnieeee!¡±

    Benibeni shouted from the top of the mountain. Ignoring her, Ricardt quickly disappeared into the wooded area. He then walked along the riverbank.

    Near the cksmith''s forge, the sound of the waterwheel creaking as it turned and the rhythmic hammering of metal reached his ears.

    After passing the forge and turning around the mountain''s edge, Ricardt arrived at the Stonemasons¡¯ Guild¡¯s worksite. It was a semi-indoor space, with just a roof and no walls.

    The area was filled with stones of various sizes, along with several unfinished or partiallypleted sculptures scattered around. Most of them seemed to still be works in progress or abandoned mid-creation.

    Mason stood on a tform, chiseling away at a marble sculpture as tall as a person. With careful precision, he tapped the chisel lightly with his hammer, shaping the stone bit by bit.

    Though still far frompletion, the emerging form hinted at life being breathed into what was once a meaningless stone. Ricardt watched the process absentmindedly.

    It was only after some time that Mason noticed Ricardt¡¯s presence. Though he hadn¡¯t been sweating much, Mason wiped his forehead and spoke.

    "What is it? If you''re here, say something."

    ¡°I was just watching. What are you making?¡±

    When Ricardt asked, Mason justughed, ''Heh.''

    "Who knows."

    Not wanting to interrupt his work, Ricardt left him alone. Since the workshop was quite spacious, he wandered around at a leisurely pace, observing the unfinished works scattered about as though on disy.

    Eventually, in one corner, a worn-out book caught his eye. Thinking it might be a blueprint or something simr, he picked it up without much thought. To his surprise, the title was written in ancient script:

    <The Sword Master¡¯s Threshold>

    Strictly speaking, it wasn¡¯t exactly a ''book''. Rather, it was a collection of long parchment sheets folded into uniform sizes and tied together with a string.

    The contents were meant to be read by untying the string and unfolding the pages one by one. Without much hesitation, Ricardt untied it.

    <While the mana of mages and warriors shares the same origin, just as a baby in its mother''s womb divides into male or female, the nature of mana bespletely different depending on how one first approaches it when they first sense it. This cannot be changed.

    Thus, only those who walk the path of the warrior can be Sword Masters, and the radiant sword of a Sword Master is fundamentally different in nature and quality from the enchantment magic used by magicians.

    A Sword Master is defined as one who infuses their weapon with mana, drawing out the weapon¡¯s innate properties to their extreme.

    The weapon''s cutting power and strength increase dramatically, enabling it to cut through even the strongest armor in a single stroke. Therefore, those who have reached the level of Sword Master find it difficult to find worthy opponents.

    However, while the definition of a Sword Master is clear, the path to bing one is abstruse,plex, and unpredictable, making it difficult to define.

    Many esteemed swordsmanship families guard their secret techniques closely, making it difficult to gather information. Additionally, Sword Masters asionally emerge from obscure backgrounds,plicating efforts to establish a unified understanding.

    Many warriors falter at the threshold of bing a Sword Master. Some say the potential to be one is determined at birth, while others believe it is a result of extreme talent and effort reaching their peak. But neither im is definitive.

    Here, I propose a different perspective. Specting about the unknown is meaningless; instead, we should rify what is certain.

    First, there is undoubtedly a threshold that must be crossed to be a Sword Master.

    Whether this requires innate potential, talent, or sheer effort is unclear. But what if we focused solely on crossing that threshold?

    From this premise, I discovered one clue: a training method practiced by the Order of Void.

    ......

    Therefore, to cross the boundary, one must pay a price. A sacrifice must be made. That price, that sacrifice, is a part of one''s humanity.

    Although much research remains to be done, I am certain of this.

    ¡­¡­>

    Ricardt skimmed through the middle sections of the text. For some reason, the book felt unsettling and eerie, sending a shiver down his spine. It exuded a sense of madness and obsession.

    However, it didn¡¯t provide a clear exnation of how one could actually cross the threshold to be a Sword Master.

    The author seemed convinced that some sort of religious ritual was necessary, something that required carving out a part of the human psyche.

    But was it truly necessary to go that far to be a Sword Master? Ricardt couldn¡¯t understand it.

    Still, Ricardt managed to take away one key realization from the book. The path to bing a Sword Master had two approaches. One was the proper way, adhering to a moral path. The other was the method the book''s author seemed to embrace, a path where as long as one achieves the goal, the means don¡¯t matter.

    ¡°Ricky, can you read that?¡±

    Mason¡¯s voice came from behind as he passed by.

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve studied ancient script before.¡±

    ¡°Really? Then take it. It¡¯s yours now.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Are you sure that¡¯s okay?¡±

    ¡°To be honest, I¡¯ve been swindled more times than I can count. This time, the amount just happened to be bigger. That book? I picked it upst time after building a chapel for some baron¡¯s family. They were short on payment, so I just took the book. But you can¡¯t exactly sell something no one can read, right?¡±

    Ricardt looked down at the folded book again. The title, <The Sword Master¡¯s Threshold>, now appeared in a different light.

    In truth, it could also be considered a Codex. Any book written in ancient times was generally referred to as a codex.

    While this particr text didn¡¯t contain groundbreaking knowledge, it undeniably conveyed something dangerous yet intriguing.

    Though it probably wouldn¡¯t be of much use, Ricardt decided to take it since Mason was giving it away.

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    Afterward, he left the workshop and took a leisurely walk along the outskirts of Ernburg. Byte afternoon, he began climbing the central uphill road.

    When he arrived at the guild building, it was already bustling. Adventurers wereing and going, and merchants could be seen delivering groceries and other necessities.

    Some people came by to make requests, while others, locals, sat outside the building chatting casually with each other.

    As Ricardt appeared, several people greeted him from all around.

    ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°Volka was looking for you, Ricky.¡±

    Though people respected him during battles, Ricardt¡¯s casual attitude made others feelfortable approaching him during normal times.

    Ricardt replied with just a wave or a nod as he made his way into the building. Inside, adventurers were resting by the tables or near the firece.

    ¡°Ricky.¡±

    As soon as he entered, someone called out to him. It was Delphi, who was carrying food.

    ¡°I told you, why not hire a server.¡±

    "Hey, employing people costs the most money."

    ¡°Why not just hire Benibeni?¡±

    "She''s too young. We sometimes get severed headsing in. And injured people too."

    ¡°Anything I can help with?¡±

    "You''ve gotten better at empty wordstely?"

    Delphiughed as she turned back to her work. To be honest, Ricardt did have a reputation for cking off. Even back at the academy, he¡¯d skipped sses more often than not.

    Ricardt smiled back and then headed toward Volka¡¯s private room, which also served as his office. Apparently, Volka was looking for him.

    ¡°Volka, you were looking for me?¡±

    Volka was seated at his desk, sorting through paperwork and calcting money. Stacks of silver and copper coinsy on the desk, with a few gold coins scattered here and there.

    Boribori and Marie were assisting him, organizing documents and helping out here and there.

    ¡°Aish, can¡¯t you help me out a little? At this rate, I''ll die doing just this my whole life."

    Counting money wasn¡¯t hard, but ensuring that payments were sent and received urately required constant attention and review.

    ¡°The more you count money, the faster you get at it. You¡¯re just slow at math.¡±

    Ricardt¡¯s sharp eye for numbers and near-superhuman calction skills made him incredibly helpful when he chose to assist, but he rarely did. It was simply too much of a hassle for him.

    "Never mind that, Dunkel just sent word. The negotiations are about to start.¡±

    ¡°What negotiations?¡±

    ¡°End-of-war negotiations.¡±

    Ricardt had initially assumed there would be frequent fighting, given that this area was considered the frontlines. However, that hadn¡¯t been the case. It wasn¡¯t clear whether the enemy avoided attacking out of fear of Ricardt, or if they simplycked the resources to mount an offensive.

    Moreover, it wasn¡¯t easy for a single adventurers¡¯ guild to pour manpower across the entire Siegfringer region.

    Rather than wasting money and lives on endless conflict, negotiating peace wasn¡¯t a bad option. Still, negotiations weren¡¯t something that could be resolved in a day or two, they were essentially another form of warfare.

    However, in this particr type of war, there was little for Ricardt to do.

    There was a bit of an anticlimactic feeling, but it was ultimately a good thing. After all, the best reward you could give to weary soldiers was the end of the war.

    "So, speaking of which, shouldn''t you, Bori, and Marie go back to the academy?"

    "Do we really need to?"

    ¡°You have to graduate. That¡¯s the only way to officially walk the path of an adventurer. It¡¯s the minimum requirement, even if the system is run rather haphazardly.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡±

    ¡°It is. At the earliest, someone mighte to pick you up by early fall. You should head back ahead of time. You¡¯ve done well, and thank you.¡±

    At Volka¡¯s words of gratitude, Ricardt responded with a smile. Then, sitting on the bed, he turned to the busy Boribori and Marie and asked,

    ¡°What about you two?¡±

    ¡°Us? What about us? We¡¯ve already packed everything.¡±

    Marie replied.

    Busy with their work, it seemed she didn¡¯t even have the time to feel sentimental. After all, they were just starting to settle into this ce and build things up.N?v(el)B\\jnn

    But with graduation just around the corner, they could return here soon enough. Perhaps Ricardt was the only one indulging in unnecessary sentimentality.

    "But what''s that?"

    Boribori asked, looking at the codex in Ricardt¡¯s hands.

    ¡°Oh, this? Uncle Mason gave it to me. Said I could just take it."

    ¡°Really? Can I take a look?¡±

    "...I mean, there''s no reason you can''t, but it''s kind of an unsettling book."

    "What''s it about?"

    "It rambles on about how you have to abandon your humanity to be a Sword Master, stuff like that."

    ¡°Then I won''t read it.¡±

    Boribori replied instantly without a second nce.

    None of them, except Ice, were aiming to be Sword Masters, so Boribori didn¡¯t seem particrly interested.

    For now, Ricardt headed to his room to pack his belongings. He ced the codex in his bag, pausing briefly to stare at the old, faded book.

    He thought back to his goal when he first entered the Academy. It was to find out whether the war from over a hundred years ago had been worth fighting, whether the war¡¯s supposed reason, the codexes, were truly worth it, and what the codexes actually were.

    That was why he had learned ancient script in the first ce. However, although he hadn¡¯t read every codex, if they all contained content like this one, it was a bit disappointing.

    Still, it was hard to say whether that war had truly been worth it. If not for the war, or the codexes, the Adventurer Academy wouldn¡¯t have been founded.

    The children who had suffered for years in that henhouse-like ce were pitiable, but on the other hand, if not for that henhouse, he wouldn¡¯t have met the friends he had now.

    So, the question of whether the war was worth fighting wasn¡¯t one he could answer lightly.

    Either way, Ricardt finished packing his things. He spent a few more days at the guild branch, helping Volka with his work and giving him some breathing room.

    By the time Volka¡¯s excessive workload had eased a little, Ricardt left for the east with Boribori and Marie, to return to the Academy.

    Just as the cool river breeze pushed the sails forward, their steps on the way back felt light and unburdened.

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!