From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 25
From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 25
Boom!
The sword that had come down with the full weight of gravity stopped in midair. Berak's greatsword swallowed the knight's blade and traced a cross. Beneath his firmly planted feet, the ground caved in.
"My lady!"
Kyle shouted and half-drew his sword at the same time. The stirring mercenaries instinctively gripped their weapons and stepped forward.
The knights' expressions were hidden by their helms. But after fixing their eyes on Berak, they hastily turned their heads to look at one another. It was agitation they could not conceal.
Berak himself had no time to pay attention to the reactions around him. The pressure bearing down on him from above, carrying even the weight of the horse, was still vivid.
Screeech, scrape...!
The locked blades trembled with the sound of grinding steel. Under the crushing weight, Berak steadied his breathing and drew every muscle taut.
Then, in an instant, he exploded with force and drove the sword upward.
"Hah!"
The knight's sword flew high into the air. Startled by the violent recoil, the horse whinnied and reared.
Clatter-clatter!
Hooves pounded the dirt roughly, kicking up dust. But Berak was already gone. The moment he knocked the sword aside, he had kicked off with his back foot and leaped.
Higher than the horse's head. Berak soared up like a hawk snatching prey and came crashing down toward the knight.
Behind Berak's silhouette as he brought the greatsword down from the air, the backlight of the sunset flared.
BOOM!
With a violent collision, Berak and the entangled knight tumbled off the horse.
It happened in an instant. Berak sensed an immense, irresistible force pushing him away. It was fundamentally different from the physical friction of clashing blades he had felt until now.
The dismounted knight used the recoil from the shove to land as lightly as a feather despite the heavy armor. Berak, flung backward, twisted in the air and landed a moment later.
"...Anima."
Berak's brow furrowed as he realized the true nature of the power the knight had drawn upon. He bit his lip and adjusted his grip on the sword hilt.
"Stop!"
Vivian's sharp voice rang out across the field.
The moment the knight heard the command, he sheathed his sword and turned his back on Berak. Then he calmed the agitated horse.
But Berak did not. Instead, he kept his weapon raised and turned a cold gaze toward Vivian.
Her eyes were no longer indifferent. A strange heat had entered them, and the words spilled rapidly from her mouth as though she were excited.
"Astonishing! To take a sword carrying the weight of a mounted charge head-on! I expected you to dodge at best... My calculations were completely wrong. And that leaping power and agility at your age. You have remarkable talent."
It was praise, but after ordering a surprise attack and then admiring the result, she could hardly expect him to take it well. Berak's gaze grew colder.
However, someone else stepped forward first. It was Kyle.
"My lady. I believe an explanation is needed."
"An explanation?"
"We can no longer accompany an employer who attempts to harm a contracted member. What just happened is a clear breach of contract and an insult to the Silver Hawk."
The young lady lightly clapped her hands from atop her horse.
"Ah, if that is how it appeared, then the fault is mine. I believe true ability reveals itself only in extreme conditions close to real combat. Terian is used to such orders, so he held back his killing intent... but I apologize for needlessly provoking your member."
Kyle shot back coldly.
"Whether there was killing intent is irrelevant. What matters is that you attacked my member on your own whim. I demand appropriate amends. Directly to Berak."
Several mercenaries swallowed nervously as they watched the knights, thinking it an excessive demand to make of a noble.
But Vivian immediately turned her horse and moved. She brought the black horse right up beside Berak. A huge shadow fell over his head.
She released the reins and hopped lightly down from the black horse. Then, standing directly before Berak, she looked down at him while he still held his sword.
"The captain is right. Faced with such excellent talent, I grew excited and momentarily forgot my manners."
And then.
"......!"
Berak's eyebrows twitched in slight surprise. Vivian had bowed her head so deeply that her black hair spilled downward. It was an attitude he had never expected a noble to show toward him. The mercenaries around him opened their eyes even wider than Berak did.
"I apologize. My method was rough. I let my desire to personally confirm whether your skill was good enough to entrust my life to get the better of me."
Berak gave a slight nod and slowly sheathed his greatsword. Vivian reached toward him, took his hand despite his flinch, placed something in his palm, and curled his fingers around it.
When Berak opened his hand, he saw a silver seal that looked like a coin but was thicker and heavier. A lion was intricately carved into it, as if roaring.
"A token of apology. This seal bears the crest of Hellvern. If you later pass a checkpoint in the county or meet a member of the house, show it. It will guarantee you the appropriate assistance and accommodations."
Berak glanced around. His liege had bowed her head to a young mercenary. Yet the knights' reactions were unexpectedly calm. They merely watched the scene in silence. They showed no anger or shame.
Rather, they even had an air of familiarity, as if such sudden displays of courtesy were not uncommon.
'So she was simply a little too quick to act.'
Thinking of her as an unusual person, he fiddled with the seal.
Vivian, who had already remounted the black horse, added one more remark.
"In all my twenty years, I can't recall ever seeing a squire with this much talent."
She was not asking for an answer. Vivian turned her horse and headed for the front of the column.
Kyle, who had been listening beside them, narrowed his brow.
"Time has passed. Let us hurry a little."
At Vivian's words, the column slowly began to move.
* * *
The procession did not stop until nightfall. In the moonlight, blackened dead grass and cracked gray earth came into view.
It was Ashton, the gateway village to the wasteland.
Despite the night, word of who the visitors were seemed to have spread quickly. Soon villagers poured out from all over.
The village chief bowed so low it was obsequious, and soot-stained children held their breath as they stole glances at the knights' splendid armor.
Vivian accepted the greetings from atop her horse with a poised posture and a slight nod of her head.
"We will rest and resupply here, then depart again at dawn tomorrow."
At the young lady's instruction, the knights dismounted in perfect unison.
The knights, including Vivian, entered the village inn, and the mercenaries set up temporary tents around it.
After seeing the last knight enter the inn, Berak approached the captain to clear up one lingering question.
"Captain. Was the knight's attack earlier really only meant as a test?"
Kyle, who had glanced down at him, nodded.
"Yes. As far as I could tell. If they had truly intended to harm you, I would have stepped in immediately."
"Then why...?"
"Why did I take such a risky measure?"
Berak had been angry too, but Kyle's response had certainly been forceful. It was fortunate that the young lady had accepted it and apologized without protest.
After a brief silence, Kyle spoke.
"Whether she knew or not was beside the point. If we let a threat like that pass, we might spend the whole journey at the mercy of her whims. It was also a matter of the mercenary company's standing. And depending on how she responded..."
"You could confirm what kind of vessel she is. What kind of person the successor we are supporting is."
Kyle looked at Berak as if surprised, then lowered his voice.
"I don't know whether you've gotten sharper or simply grown up, but when you say things like that, you should learn to lower your voice even more."
Berak immediately asked in a whisper.
"But... can a woman also rise to the position of lord?"
"Across the continent, the only countries where that is possible would be the Empire and here, Valken."
Kyle added in a low voice.
"Valken in particular has an especially strong principle among its nobles that one must prove one's 'strength.' The older the house, the less they care about the order of a child's birth or their sex. Whether one is qualified to carry on the bloodline is decided solely by the martial power one possesses. So occasionally a female lord is born. Conversely, if one lacks strength, even the eldest son is mercilessly pushed out of the line of succession."
Kyle's gaze lingered on the night sky for a moment. He habitually swept a hand over his left forearm, then turned his back.
"That's enough talk. Get some sleep. Starting tomorrow, there won't be enough time to rest."
Thump.
Kyle clapped Berak on the shoulder as he passed. His retreating figure looked no different than usual, yet Berak felt something strange.
* * *
The next day, at dawn.
They left all the knights' warhorses in the village and obtained a few mules to carry the baggage before heading toward Geneve. It was a choice made in consideration of the wasteland's harsh terrain and climate.
The difference was obvious almost immediately after they entered. Cracked gray soil crunched underfoot, while twisted rock formations and dead trees filled the landscape.
In truth, Berak had thought the young lady had hired the mercenary company to create an excuse to slip away from her house, so he had briefly wondered whether she really needed to accompany them. But that doubt soon vanished.
"From here on, everyone must shorten their stride and pay attention to vibrations in the ground. The ones hiding under rocks can go for your ankles."
"Gray Stalker droppings. Compared to how troublesome they are, their byproducts are worthless, so it would be best to detour around their habitat."
"Contact ahead! A spore cloud! We need to get low before the wind shifts!"
Finding the path, reading tracks, and eliminating dangers in advance fell entirely to the mercenaries. If Vivian intended to hunt here, she would not get far without them.
Berak, walking ahead, asked Demein, who was examining the state of the vines.
"The knights aren't familiar with the wasteland at all. Even though they're that strong."
Demein pushed aside a poison-coated vine with the tip of his dagger and shrugged.
"Those lords are war machines, not hunters who catch magic beasts. Hellvern isn't a place where large-scale magic beast invasions happen often enough to require dispatching a knight order. This kind of work has been the mercenaries' domain for quite a long time."
Berak compared the mercenaries' actions with the knowledge he had gained from the <Wasteland Herbarium> borrowed from Kyle, gradually building his field sense.
Meanwhile, those at the front seemed to have found something else.
"L-look at this!"
The voice of the mercenary following the tracks trembled. Everyone looked toward the spot. On the cracked gray mud flat, a deep impression had been stamped into the ground like a gigantic brand.
The shape itself was familiar. Four front toes and a blunt rear paw pad. It was unmistakably a wolf's footprint. But the size was the problem.
"...This is insane."
Someone muttered under their breath.
A single footprint was the size of an average adult man's upper body. The depth to which the sharp claws had crushed the ground seemed to prove terrifying physical power.
Even the knights clearly showed signs of considerable tension. But Vivian's reaction was different. A deep smile curved across her lips.
"Magnificent."
Vivian bent down and stroked the footprint.
"There could be no more perfect offering to prove my worth. My heart is pounding."
Vivian raised her head and gave the order.
"Begin tracking. Do not lose the trail."
It was the moment the target was decided.
'I'd heard that the larger a magic beast grew, the more it came to possess something beyond mere physical strength.......'
Berak heightened his vigilance, keeping every nerve taut with each step.
「Senses + 1」
Not long after, Kyle stopped walking and pointed at a trace on the ground.
"This is... the trail of a pack. Judging by the depth, there are quite a few of them."
Berak approached and examined the spot he indicated. On the cracked ground, twisted bones were piled in heaps.
The bones had not been crushed as if chewed and spat out by beasts. They had been shaved smooth without a single speck of flesh remaining.
What was even more bizarre was the arrangement.
The stripped bones were laid out at regular intervals in a geometric circle, and at the center, dozens of unidentifiable skulls were stacked like an elaborate tower.
"It looks like the remains of some kind of sorcery or ritual."
Vivian studied it with interest.
"It is probably a magic beast with intelligence."
"Shall we detour?"
At Vivian's question, Kyle stopped and studied the terrain. He looked back and forth between the rough paths branching to either side and the gorge straight ahead before speaking.
"Whether we take the sand deposits to the west or the rocky ground to the east, the mules will struggle. Neither route is impossible, but both will cost us a great deal of time."
Kyle pointed at the gorge entrance.
"The problem is the trail. This wolf is moving unusually fast. If we abandon the gorge and search for a detour, it may disappear deep into the wasteland before we can pick up its trail again today."
Kyle stepped back as if handing the choice to Vivian. She did not hesitate.
"We did not come all this way to find a safe path. We break through head-on."
* * *
As they entered the gorge, the flow of the air changed.
Starlight did not reach the floor of the narrow, deep gorge. Only the party's few torches flickered, casting unsteady light across the cliff walls.
In the silence, wind-loosened gravel rattled down the rock, the sound scraping at their eardrums. Each time the torches wavered, shadows twisted grotesquely across the cliff walls as though following them.
Everyone instinctively fell silent. Tension seeped in as they advanced slowly, scanning their surroundings.
Clink.
Only the occasional sound of weapons being adjusted could be heard.
Whoosh—
A sharp sound split the air.
It was a javelin. It came straight down toward Kyle, who was walking at the very front.
Clang!
The response was swift. The javelin was split precisely in half from tip to shaft and rolled across the ground.
"Everyone, battle stations!"
The young lady shouted.
The next moment.
Screeeech!
Grrrrrr—!
Along with ear-splitting shrieks, roars and growls rang out from all directions at once.
Figures wearing grotesque masks emerged all at once from crevices in the gorge walls and from beneath overhanging rocks.
"Hobgoblins!"
Someone among the mercenaries shouted.
Beside them were massive wolves with blood-soaked red fur.
The party drew their weapons in unison. Berak also gripped his axe and took his stance.
Whoosh, whoosh—!
Ominous sounds tore through the air one after another. Dozens of javelins poured down from above the gorge, hurtling toward the torchlight.
"Knock them down!"
The knights slashed their swords horizontally in unison, and the murderous energy bursting from their blades covered the space above their heads.
CRACK—! CRUNCH!
The sturdy javelins were caught in the sword wind the knights unleashed and shattered into splinters, scattering as dust.
Even the one-sided bombardment from the high ground could not penetrate the "domain" the knights had created. The party had taken virtually no damage, leaving the mercenaries with no chance to intervene.
'Impressive, at least.'
The enemies seemed as deeply impressed as Berak was. For a moment, they flinched and hesitated.
Berak did not miss that moment.
Berak quickly set down his axe and drew a dagger from inside his clothes. He had picked up several from the smithy after improving his Dagger Proficiency and Throwing. He aimed at a distant target.
One of the knights glanced at Berak and spoke in a stiff voice.
"You showed some promise, but you lose your composure in real combat. Refrain from such rash actions."
Another knight also growled lowly.
"Throwing from below a cliff? Stop wasting effort and fall back. A dagger won't even reach at this distance."
They treated him like a frightened mercenary flailing in desperation. But Berak did not even respond.
Exactly as he had practiced.
He simply put the rotation of his body into his arm and swung it toward the top of the cliff.
Swish—!
The dagger cut straight through the darkness, tracing a silver streak in the torchlight. It buried itself squarely in the forehead of a hobgoblin raising another javelin.
"Screeeech!"
With a scream, the massive hobgoblin toppled off the cliff, bouncing off protruding rocks—thud, thud—as it fell toward the ground.
"......?"
Shock spread not only across the faces of the knights who had been lecturing him, but also among the others watching.
"What did I just...?"
"Are his muscles a catapult or something?"
"...He's insane."
Vivian was also watching Berak with a peculiar look in her eyes.
Berak calmly slipped another dagger between his fingers and curled his lips into a faint smile. He turned toward the knight who had spoken to him just before the throw.
"It reaches."
"What......?"
"At this distance, it reaches."
Swish—!
Berak immediately grabbed the next dagger and threw it.