Chapter 41
Chapter 41
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Trap (3)
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The battlefield fell into a brief lull due to the boisterous entrance of this stranger.
The mountain bandits used that momentary silence to gather their wounded and swiftly retreat.
The imperial soldiers simply watched them go.
To be precise, they couldn't pursue.
It was as if something had grabbed their ankles, preventing them from taking a single step.
Instinctively, their eyes were fixed on one spot.
A chilling, heavy pressure bore down on them, as if they had intruded into a predator's territory.
They felt the hairs on their bodies stand on end at the slightest breeze and swallowed dryly.
An indescribable sense of overwhelming dominance emanated from the man wearing the white lion mask.
"Who the hell are you?"
The Chokan leading them aimed his sword at the white lion and demanded.
He was in a foul mood after letting Iriel slip away when he thought she was as good as caught.
A cold voice flowed from beneath the white lion mask.
"What's it matter to a dead man?"
"You cocky bastard!"
The frowning Chokan charged with ferocious momentum.
A blue trajectory followed his movement, slashing down diagonally.
Unlike before, this was a full-force strike.
A chilling slicing sound echoed behind the trajectory he drew.
Sschwick!
In the blink of an eye, the already silent battlefield grew so quiet not even breaths could be heard.
Over that hushed battlefield.
Thud.
The headless man collapsed.
The white lion still stood in place. Blood dripped from the tip of his lowered sword: drop, drop.
"......"
Iriel gasped at the sight. A foe she and Allen couldn't overcome even together.
The gap between them felt as vast as a city wall.
She had steeled herself for death before him.
Yet Genesis had cut him down like swatting a fly.
In a single stroke.
Goosebumps rose all over her body. A chill ran down her spine.
It was the first time she truly felt Genesis's strength on her skin.
'......How strong is this man, exactly?'
As if answering her, Genesis ignited a blue aura on his blade.
Never had she seen an aura so vivid and brilliant.
A crystalline, clear blue hue.
It blazed like flames.
Then he began to move.
Kwaaang!
With what looked like a casual swing, the surroundings were swept away.
Contrary to his leisurely demeanor, the blazing flash savagely tore into the imperial soldiers.
Explosions, screams, and death intertwined and poured over the battlefield.
Red blood sprayed from all directions.
Anything that crossed the trajectory Genesis traced was severed, no matter what it was.
'......'
Iriel and the others watched the massacre without even breathing.
The blatant reality unfolding before their eyes felt more distant than a dream.
'How can anyone do that?'
They were the ones who had been threatening them with death just moments ago. She and many others had desperately held them off, relying on the sturdiness of the fortress walls.
Yet the gates had been breached, and they had lost.
Death had been right before them.
But that dire situation flipped like the back of a hand with the arrival of one man.
Overwhelmingly so, incomparable to before.
Genesis was single-handedly annihilating nearly a hundred foes.
Yet the enemies couldn't muster any resistance, swept away by the blue storm.
'......So this is true power.'
Iriel let her tense shoulders slump.
The battlefield, where life and death overlapped, no longer existed beside her.
His back was absolutely secure.
No more enemies approached threateningly.
She glanced at Allen, who stared piercingly at Genesis from the side.
Now she understood Allen's blind faith in him.
The tales he yammered on about endlessly from the Midcray Plains.
He had already witnessed something like this back then.
A power that wasn't just overwhelming but felt absolute.
Seeing that strength right before her eyes, it didn't make sense.
She couldn't fathom his defeat, not even imagine it.
'Who could possibly beat someone like that?'
A proverb widely known across the Valencia Continent flashed through Iriel's mind.
『A Sword Master is equivalent to an entire legion.』
Anyone with even a passing interest in military history knew it.
Until now, Iriel had thought it exaggerated.
One person's might equal to a legion of 60,000?
Of course, it didn't mean a Sword Master's power matched a legion of 60,000 in raw force.
It referred to their battlefield impact, considering mobility, logistics, and overall circumstances.
Even so, Iriel had believed it greatly overstated.
No matter how strong a human, comparing to 60,000 troops?
Ridiculous.
But now, she was vividly realizing it.
The moment Genesis stood before them, the soldiers' numbers lost all meaning.
To a single Sword Master, headcount was an irrelevant figure.
Did the number of bugs matter when stepping on them?
It was only a matter of time.
The imperial soldiers didn't dare approach Genesis, retreating further and further until they turned tail and fled.
Nearly three hundred imperial troops routed before a single man.
And it happened in the mere blink of an eye.
The enemies' morale crumbled in an instant.
Genesis lowered his sword and silently watched them flee beyond the gates.
"Whooooaaah!"
The survivors embraced each other and roared in cheers at the sight. Amid the crowd, Iriel quietly gazed at Genesis.
She had thought the situation would resolve if he came, but not this easily.
What was impossible for them was effortless for him.
* * *
The wagon jolted harshly.
The terrain's bumps transmitted through his entire body.
His mouth was gagged with rough cloth, making breathing uncomfortable.
His arms were twisted behind him and bound with rope, his legs similarly tied tight.
It felt like his torso was one solid piece.
Enchanted rope, perhaps—no matter how hard he strained, it wouldn't break.
Cracker arduously turned his head to survey the interior.
The wagon was boxed in on all sides by wooden planks.
Sunlight filtered through a small barred window.
Night had passed.
He couldn't remember what happened before losing consciousness.
His fainted comrades beside him all seemed unharmed.
Genesis wasn't among them.
'......What the hell is going on?'
He couldn't grasp the exact situation, but it was clear he had been captured by the imperial army and was being hauled to their camp.
Cracker rolled to lean his back against the wagon wall and pressed his ear close to eavesdrop outside.
No distinct sounds came.
The wagon just kept moving onward.
Giving up on scouting the outside, Cracker sank into thought.
'......Portin, did you really betray us?'
The rope bit painfully into his wrists, but he didn't feel it. His nerves were elsewhere.
Cracker quietly pondered Portin.
The subtle changes in behavior since his return.
Words he'd brushed off at the time now resurfaced vividly.
'No, that can't be.'
But he soon shook his head.
'It must be the enemy's scheme. After all we've been through, Portin would never. I know him better than anyone.'
Cracker trusted Portin.
They had shared twelve years together.
Since the war between the Empire and Francia, he and Portin had endured life and death side by side.
They had vowed even to die together and dreamed of a shared future.
The mountain stronghold and golden fields were built on that dream.
Portin was like his own life.
And he felt the same.
That's why they became sworn brothers.
He couldn't believe such a man had betrayed him.
'You idiot! Who are you doubting because of the enemy's tricks!'
Cursing his own foolishness for nearly falling for it, Cracker thoroughly scanned the wagon interior again.
The empty space offered no escape from this bind.
That's when the wagon stopped.
The door burst open, sunlight flooding in at once.
Cracker squinted and turned his gaze.
"What? You're awake?"
A voice rang out.
His eyes stung; he could barely make out a dark silhouette.
A shadow approached, backlit by the sun.
Something swung.
A heavy thud of pain, and his vision went black.
* * *
The joy of victory was fleeting.
Soon, sorrow enveloped them.
The seventy-odd mountain bandits had been halved, and the elderly and young boys who fought had died too. A victory marred by deep wounds.
"You did well."
I approached Allen and Iriel sprawled on the ground and spoke.
The drained pair lay limp.
They looked a mess.
"What about the others?"
Iriel asked.
Those comforting each other nearby turned to me.
"Captured by the imperial army. I was the only one who got out."
Groans rose from all around.
"Where's Barten?"
"Well......"
Allen explained the situation up to now. Then I told them about Portin's betrayal.
The mood sank further.
Leader Cracker captured, Barten unconscious, and Portin a traitor.
The stronghold was effectively dismantled.
But it wasn't over yet.
"We need to rescue them."
Iriel's eyes widened at my words.
"Can you do it?"
"You all have to help too."
I could flip their base alone, but three had been taken, including Cracker.
I couldn't extract them solo.
"You all pitch in too."
I said to those resting nearby.
"Of course! Anything! We'll do whatever to save the boss!"
One stepped forward boldly.
They all looked at me with eager eyes.
Rescuing their brothers—naturally.
"Just tell us what to do!"
To the fired-up group, I said,
"Rest first."
The bold one nodded awkwardly, deflating.
"Where's Barten?"
With a groan, Iriel pushed off her knee and stood.
"Over there inside."
She led the way.
Deep in the fortress, Barten lay in a room. Bandages wrapped his abdomen, cold sweat beading his forehead. I checked his pulse and scanned his body.
Not as severe as thought.
I infused inner energy to bolster his qi.
Barten's expression eased immediately.
"You know medicine too?"
Allen asked, amazed.
"Basic first aid."
"Oh."
"I'll check him again. I know some healing arts. Earlier was rushed emergency care; needs proper disinfection and stitching."
Iriel rolled up her sleeves. I grabbed her shoulder.
"Rest first. Sewing in your state? You'd make a masterpiece of a mess. It's patched enough for a couple hours."
"Ah, yes."
Iriel nodded.
Battle fatigue was immense.
Rest was needed before moving again.
* * *
A nose-stinging stench slowly roused Cracker.
Damp, unpleasant air woke him.
Before his vision cleared, he felt manacles on his outstretched arms.
His feet too.
Chained to the wall, he hung slumped standing.
Frowning, he forced his eyes open, blurry gaze sweeping around.
As focus sharpened: bloodstained stone walls, unknown tools hung on protruding nails.
On closer look, torture instruments.
Flesh clung raggedly to hook-like ones.
Clank.
Chains rattled with every movement attempt. Fixed to the wall, no wiggle room.
Soon, the iron door creaked open. A man entered, followed by attendants.
"Right on time, awake."
Green-haired, sharp-chinned.
He wore fine attire out of place here. First time this close, but a familiar face.
......Itzriel.
"Seeing you like this is quite delightful."
Cracker glared ferociously. The enemy who killed his comrades stood before him.
Itzriel shook his head pityingly.
"Losing those boasted brothers must grieve you. But not all dead, so don't fret. Seeing your long face, I prepared this personally."
Cracker eyed Itzriel's leisurely smile uneasily. The door opened again; a man walked in slowly.
"......"
Seeing him, Cracker trembled in disbelief. Couldn't blink, close his mouth, or breathe. He just stared blankly.
The youngest he cherished more than his own life stood there.