Chapter 104
Chapter: 104
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>Translator: penny
>Chapter: 104
>Chapter Title: Ortona Civil War (3)
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>In Ortona, there exists a unique aura cultivation method known as [Henesis]. It is a training technique specialized for the Henesis longsword, which features a blade that is not short and a hilt extending to about two-thirds the length of the blade itself.
The Henesis longsword was a beautiful weapon that combined the advantages of both a two-handed sword and a spear. With its typically wavy, intricate blade patterns, ornate guard, and pommel, some dismissed it as mere ornamental dress sword for nobles.
However, anyone who witnessed its wide attack range comparable to that of an average spear, its swift recovery speed for a longsword, and the savage power of its serrated edge ripping flesh would never again utter the words "decorative sword."
The true essence of the Henesis cultivation method was now being blatantly displayed on the Andres Plain.
Slash!
A blue aura blade, extending an extra two inches beyond the already long sword blade, swiftly traced a circle as it was swung. The two charging cavalrymen were cleaved in half along with their horses, tumbling across the ground.
General Gael, having judged that he could handle the cavalry more efficiently per unit of time, charged toward them once more.
"Eeek!"
The surrounding cavalrymen panicked and hastily turned their horses around.
Desperate to get as far away as possible from the rampaging Sword Master, the cavalrymen broke formation and scattered in confusion. Being nearby offered no chance of stopping him—they would merely be sliced apart like straw dummies in a training yard.
Though they were the royalist faction's elite cavalry, they couldn't even dream of thrusting their lances into General Gael's extended range.
Yet the sword swung lightly in a figure-eight once again with the momentum of their retreat. Several cavalrymen fleeing with their backs turned failed to evade and were bisected diagonally, crashing to the ground.
Neigh! A cloud of acrid dust rose up.
"Whew, that guy's a real monster."
Justin, the mercenary captain at the vanguard of the detachment, whistled as he gleefully swung his sword.
The man appeared dignified and reserved at first glance, but once he drew his sword, he became an utter human disaster.
Merely being exposed to the overwhelming aura radiating widely around General Gael caused the enemy soldiers' hands to tremble, rendering them incapable of proper response. Far more cavalry fell to that single Sword Master's blade than to the detachment's individual efforts—enough said.
Justin pushed up the visor of his sallet with one hand and glanced sideways. More precisely, toward the boy swinging his sword with an expressionless face beside him.
"Bart. Why do you keep making that face lately? Still unhappy about taking this job?"
The boy had never been thrilled about joining this civil war from the start. He was already the quiet type, but lately he'd seemed noticeably more sullen, so Justin—who had practically dragged him along—was starting to worry.
The boy stared for a moment at the blue aura swirling in the distance, then replied without even turning to Justin.
"It's all predetermined in the end. Jobs like this leave a bad aftertaste."
"Well, yeah..."
The mercenary captain trailed off, then shrugged exaggeratedly with a grin.
"That's for the ones who hired us to worry about. Not your problem, right?"
"......"
The boy didn't respond, instead clicking down the visor of his sallet with a metallic clank. Soon, through the narrow slit, an eerie silver gleam began to shine.
Noticing the ominous aura, Justin asked with a bewildered expression.
"What are you planning?"
"I'll end it quickly."
"Huh?"
"...Sorry."
The boy stroked his horse's neck with hands wrapped in white light, then kicked its belly hard before Justin could even ask what he meant. Neigh!
"Hey! Wait!"
Leaving the mercenary captain's urgent shout behind, the boy spurred his horse straight into the chaos. His mount nimbly wove through the tangled cavalry.
Slash. Whenever a cavalryman blocked his path, he swung his sword without hesitation.
Though not a proper sword form, his strikes were strangely efficient and precise. After spraying several arcs of blood like that, the boy had arrived at the right flank of the republican remnants.
He felt General Gael's gaze flick toward him as the man swung his blue aura blade. Riding full tilt past him, the boy soon charged toward the enemy stockade amid a hail of arrows.
"Wha—what the...!"
The republican soldiers, who had reorganized their front lines with the Sword Master's support but could advance no further and were milling about restlessly, stared wide-eyed.
General Gaspar unwittingly sprang up from behind cover and shouted.
"...It's dangerous!"
Amid the barrage of arrows, the boy didn't even flinch as he drew a sword from his saddle with his left hand. Gripping a blade in each hand.
Boom.
By some trick, he exploded upward from the horse at tremendous speed.
A leap that soared far beyond the height of the enemy stockade—an utterly unrealistic jump.
People from both republican and royalist camps gaped at the sight. It was a height no ordinary human could possibly reach.
Neigh!
Meanwhile, his horse, riddled with arrows like a pincushion, let out a pitiful cry and collapsed.
The boy was just as exposed to the arrows. Yet somehow, he evaded every one, floating in midair. Of course, only Gael discerned what was truly happening around him.
Whoosh. Winds from somewhere swirled around the boy's body. The fierce gusts deflected most of the arrows aside. The few coming straight at him were blocked by the white sword barriers formed by the blades in his hands.
"Shoo—shoot!"
The flustered enemy commander yelled at the archers in a trembling voice. The archers hurriedly nocked arrows and aimed at the boy hovering in the air.
Even if he'd dodged by luck so far, he couldn't evade a concentrated volley all at once.
And in that instant, something astonishing happened. The boy, whom everyone thought would hang there as an arrow target.
Boom! He rocketed into the heart of the enemy lines from midair, as if kicking off something. It occurred before they could even aim.
"Wha—huh?"
While the commander stared dumbfounded from behind the stockade, the boy sailed over his head, winds swirling around him, and landed lightly in the center of the camp.
Hummm! At the same moment, a faint aura enveloped the sword in his right hand, and it flew with a whoosh toward the middle of the stockade.
It wasn't thrown with precise aim; spinning end over end, the sword thudded into the stockade's center. It quivered for a moment.
Ting! Shattered metal fragments exploded outward. Several archers, frozen in confusion, were caught in the blast.
"Aaagh!"
"Argh! My eyes!"
The unexpected crisis threw the entire archer unit into chaos.
The sword exploded? The commander blinked in disbelief at the scene he'd witnessed plainly.
Boom. The boy kicked off the ground again and closed in right before the commander's nose.
"What...!"
And that was his final gasp.
The enemy commander didn't even grasp what was happening before his head separated from his body and rolled across the dirt. It all happened in the blink of an eye.
"Gasp!"
"M-Monster...!"
The soldiers staring blankly at the sight backed away from the boy with faces drained white. Some who glimpsed the silver gleam through his visor even stumbled and collapsed.
The terror of the boy—who had displayed inhuman prowess—froze the entire camp.
To strike the republicans from behind, the enemy had pulled back most of their forces, leaving only a light archer detachment and scant infantry.
And now, having lost their commander so abruptly, their morale plummeted to rock bottom.
The boy surveyed them coolly for a moment, then picked up the severed head by the helmet and slowly walked toward the stockade.
Whoosh.
Something round suddenly flew toward the republican camp and plopped down. They had been peering curiously at the enemy stockade after the arrow barrage mysteriously ceased following the boy's intrusion.
Startled, they looked closer—it was a severed human head, helmet and all.
Through the open visor, General Gaspar recognized the face.
That head...
"...General Alonso!"
The republican camp began to stir.
The enemy commander! Why so suddenly?
But the seasoned General Gaspar realized this was a golden opportunity. Drawing his sword, he leaped from cover and shouted.
"The commander's head has fallen! Everyone, charge the enemy lines!"
"Ch—charge! Charge!"
The other knights followed, urging the soldiers onward.
Waaah! The entire unit roared and surged toward the high ground.
No more arrows fell by the time the republicans reached the stockade, and they occupied the enemy position with ease, as if their earlier struggles had been a lie.
* * *
"This battle was truly won thanks to the efforts of your Astros Mercenary Corps. We minimized our casualties because of you. Allow me to express my gratitude."
Gael had personally visited the mercenaries' tent to meet Captain Justin. Since they'd been hastily conscripted, they hadn't yet discussed proper compensation.
He looked a bit fatigued. He'd just finished wrestling with republican hotheads in the strategy meeting, who had been ranting about immediately striking Castiya County.
Of course, the meeting had concluded that it was impossible with their current forces.
Infuriating as the count's deception was, there was no need to stretch their front lines.
Moreover, even if they succeeded in taking Castiya Fortress, ravaging the intact Castiya territory would give neutral nobles cause to flock to the royalists en masse.
"General, come to think of it, doesn't our mercenary corps always get thrown into the most dangerous spots? Don't you think we deserve a bit more hazard pay...?"
The cheeky captain boldly called him an easy mark to his face yet shamelessly made outrageous demands.
Gael bristled momentarily, but upon reflection, the captain had a point. The man seemed genuinely convinced they needed more pay.
As Gael pondered, a calm voice spoke up from the side.
"Justin. I told you to know your limits."
Mercenary Bart.
He always seemed a match for the captain, but today's display surpassed him by far. It was hard to believe such prowess came from a boy not yet out of his teens.
The image of the boy darting into the enemy lines with inexplicable movements lingered vividly in Gael's mind. He had earned the greatest merit in this battle, no doubt.
"No, but think about how much we contributed today! We deserve fair pay for our hard work, don't we?"
The captain grumbled with a frown, but the boy's next words shut him up.
"Then first, shouldn't we discuss my fair share within the corps more thoroughly?"
"......"
Mmm. Justin rolled his eyes, sweating coldly, then mumbled toward Gael.
"...General, let's forget about the hazard pay increase."
So the amount he was skimping from that boy was greater than any hazard pay!
Gael looked at the boy named Bart with newfound eyes.
Mature beyond his years, yet here was another easy mark like himself. Noticing Gael's gaze, the boy twitched an eyebrow, and Gael hastily turned back to Justin.
He negotiated compensation with the deflated captain for a while. Satisfied with the agreed sum, Gael turned to leave, weary steps dragging.
If not for the boy's sudden question from behind.
"How long do you plan to keep fighting these meaningless battles?"
It was the first time the usually reticent boy had addressed him directly. Surprised, Gael turned to find the boy's eyes staring at him with unprecedented chill.
"Do you intend to become a martyr for the republican cause just like this?"