From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 5
From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 5
"Run away?"
The question slipped out reflexively. But his heart was already pounding. As if his body had realized before his mind that Martin was telling the truth.
"The forest warden. That man is strange. Earlier, I asked why you were the only one left behind, remember?"
"Yes."
The lingering warmth of the picture book evaporated quickly. Anxiety rushed back in to fill the space.
"I think he's trying to sell you off somewhere. And since it's being done in secret, they're clearly bad people."
"When you say bad people...?"
"Slaves, most likely. The kind that are forbidden by law."
"What's a slave?"
It was a word he had heard a few times before. But the meaning didn't come to him easily.
"Well... someone who must obey their master completely. They get treated like livestock or tools."
'How is that any different from now?'
But if Martin was saying it like this, then the situation had to be different. This time, it was real danger.
"Mister, how did you find out?"
"I got lucky. Late at night, after I'd taken a drunk man home, if I hadn't passed through the back passage behind the loading yard, I never would have seen it. The forest warden."
Martin swallowed.
"The forest warden told us his return was delayed because of a cargo issue, right? But then I overheard that he wasn't actually going to the loading yard. I thought it was strange, and then I saw him lurking around there in the middle of the night. So I hid behind some crates and watched."
"And then?"
"I waited, and he met with some people. Rough-looking men carrying vicious weapons. They looked like mercenaries. And those men and the forest warden were saying things like 'a boy with the strength of a beast,' 'hard to believe the quality of the merchandise,' 'I'll show you myself when we handle it tomorrow.' Anyone listening would know they were talking about you."
"Hmm......"
Hearing all this, there was no room to think otherwise. It was sudden, but he had to move.
'I made a mistake.'
He had hidden his strength to blend in with others. But that had been too vague a choice. If he was going to hide it, he should have hidden it completely. Or he should have revealed it and become strong enough to protect himself.
In the end, there was no middle ground.
No, perhaps.......
Maybe he had let his guard down.
Thinking that here, he would be recognized for his work, that he was being treated as special.
'It wasn't even a great reward. I was letting myself be reassured by a few words of praise.'
Whatever the reason, it was an attitude he couldn't excuse. Because his situation could change on a superior's whim.
He opened his closed eyes. Berak's gaze had become clearer.
Seeing Berak remain silent, Martin seemed to think something else.
"Are you that shocked... Yeah, you have every right to be."
Martin paused to steady his breathing, then continued.
"But now isn't the time to act. During the day, carts and laborers are constantly coming and going. The guards don't leave the loading yard area because they're inspecting cargo. If you move then, you'll be spotted immediately."
Berak glanced out the window. Under the bright sunlight, people's shadows moved busily back and forth.
"At night, the guard presence thins out. Then the patrols only cover one section at a time. But they lock the latches once the sun is fully down, so you have to avoid the iron gate."
Martin added.
"You know the pile of materials next to the auxiliary door? If you circle around behind it, there's a small drainage channel. It's where the water runs off when they wash cargo, and most people don't pay it any attention. Get out through there."
Berak stared at Martin.
"Martin. Why are you......"
His lips parted slightly, but the words never came out. He felt like he already knew without asking.
Still, a corner of his heart felt strangely unsettled. He could never be Martin's dead son. He knew that.
Even so.
'If he sees me that way, then I'll think of him that way too.'
Instead of the father and brothers who had only scolded him and worked him like a mule. He decided to accept this man as a father, as a brother.
Having steadied his heart, Berak hugged the book to his chest and quietly stood up.
"Thank you, mister. I'll definitely repay you someday."
Martin nodded once and said.
"Make sure you survive, Berak."
That was their farewell.
* * *
The settling darkness announced that night had come.
Creeeak—
The old door let out a faint shriek. Berak flinched before the sound could seep into the night air.
Holding his breath, he poked his head out. He scanned the darkness carefully. Since he couldn't gauge his surroundings through the small window, he had to check quickly the moment he came out like this.
"Hup......."
The instant he swallowed his breath, a shadow passed before his eyes.
A guard.
Not far away. The man stood with his back turned, holding a torch. Berak's heart pounded violently.
Fortunately, the guard didn't seem to have noticed him yet. Berak lowered his body and slipped straight into a side path.
Until he was completely out of sight, every step felt like walking on a knife's edge.
He wanted to run.
He wanted to sprint away right now.
But big movements make big sounds. And that meant being discovered.
He suppressed even the sound of his breathing. His small, light body helped. The texture of the dirt under his toes, the wind brushing against his clothes—every nerve was on edge.
Thud, thud.
When he sensed a presence, he hid. When he heard footsteps, he stopped. When torchlight flickered in the distance, he pressed himself against the wall.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears. If he was caught even once, it was over.
He couldn't relax his muscles or release his tension. He just had to perfectly match his breathing and his steps.
「Body Proficiency + 1」
Normally, those letters would have been welcome, but this time he let them pass. The situation was that dangerous. At the logging camp, it would have ended with a whip. Here, it was soldiers with spears.
After stopping and starting several times like that, he rounded the corner of a building.
Then the equipment shed he had noted during the day came into view. Beneath the material pile, in a half-open gap, an axe handle jutted out slightly.
He let out a quiet sigh of relief. It was fortunate he had slipped it out during the day. The moment his fingertips touched it, he felt a little calmer.
Better than empty hands. Whether he had to cut wood or break down a door... he hoped to pass without a commotion, but if a moment came when he truly had to—it was better than nothing.
However, his movements became even more careful. He pressed the blade down with his hand, worried it might clatter. He was also mindful of his footprints sinking deeper.
Every sense sharpened to an extreme.
「Stealth + 1」
How much time had passed? It was hard to tell. It felt like he had been there a long time, and also like it had only just begun.
At that moment.
'......!'
From the darkness ahead came the faint sound of water. The small drainage channel. The path Martin had told him about.
Berak steadied his breathing one last time and stepped into it.
* * *
The passage was dark. He could barely see ahead.
His fingertips, pressed against the wall, came away slick and wet. A musty smell stung his nose, and damp air seeped into his throat. The sound of water dripping from the ceiling echoed intermittently.
But the end was approaching. That single thought made him forget his physical fatigue.
Feeling along the wall with one hand, he kept moving forward.
'Where should I go? First, head away from the logging camp. As far as possible, somewhere with no people.'
Before long, moonlight brightened his vision. Berak exhaled and emerged from the narrow passage. Cold night air brushed his face. Ahead was a small clearing surrounded by stone walls and piles of timber.
A corner on the outskirts of the loading yard where scrap materials were stacked. A place people rarely came.
And then—
"Berak."
A voice cut through the darkness.
He barely managed to swallow the scream that was halfway out. It was a sound that should never have been heard here.
When he hurriedly raised his head, people were already surrounding him.
A merchant wearing a silk vest, five armed men standing behind him. And the forest warden as well.
"Indeed."
The forest warden nodded.
"It was worth greasing the guards' palms."
The merchant shrugged.
"Still, I didn't expect it. Seeing him run the moment the serfs beside him disappeared—he really is rotten to the core. Seems his character is defective too."
The forest warden's brow furrowed.
"I heard that once the binding magic tool is on, he'll obey absolutely. If you're thinking of using that to lower the price......"
"Ahh, it's not that."
The merchant waved his hand.
"But your word had better be accurate. Magic tools aren't cheap, you know. We don't use them unless the slave is mid-to-high grade or better."
"Hmph, no need to worry about that."
Only then did the merchant's gaze shift to Berak.
"What a dazed expression, kid."
He sneered.
"We've known since you came out. The guard signaled us."
In Berak's mind flashed the image of the guard standing with his back turned. After that, he had gone through all sorts of hardship, but in truth, he had been caught from the very beginning.
"So you deliberately didn't catch me. But why bother?"
The merchant snorted.
"From the look of you, you came out through the drainage channel. You probably thought you'd found a secret passage yourself, didn't you? But this whole area is blocked off by warehouses and the castle wall. In the end, this is the only way out to the outskirts."
At those words, one of the mercenaries let out a chuckle.
"Why explain it all in such detail?"
"Heh heh... watching a face fill with despair right before being sold into slavery is one of my little pleasures."
Strength gathered in Berak's hands. The faces surrounding the clearing seemed to blur.
Enduring. Bearing it. Watching for others' reactions.
All of it was far too familiar to him.
He had gained an ability by chance, but he had only stood tall once. That time long ago when he had talked back to his brother.
But.
There were moments when he couldn't do that. There were walls he could never break through that way.
Reality was driving him toward that single moment from which there was no more escape.
There was only one way left.
To see the people before him as enemies.
And to fight.
"Whenever I see you on your own, you seem to have an axe in your hand."
It was the forest warden. Even here, his tone was overbearing. As if he had done nothing wrong while trying to sell off Berak's entire life.
"Put it down. Now."
Berak lowered his head for a moment. A small murmur escaped.
"......Don't."
"What did you say?"
Something that can only reveal itself through attitude, through habit. But something hard to recognize when it's suppressed. Yet if one decides to act freely, without watching for others' reactions—then it finally shows clearly. A nature that doesn't respond at all to others' gazes or hierarchy.
Berak raised his head and adjusted his grip on the axe.
"Don't order me around!"
It was the manifestation of [Dignity: 0].
The forest warden seemed at a loss for words for a moment. Then he let out a hollow laugh.
"You've lost your mind. A mere serf...!"
Beside him, the merchant clicked his tongue.
"This one's gone well past defiance—he's completely insane. Even if we put the binding collar on him, his head needs to be intact for him to be of any use."
"You shut up too! You filthy bastard!"
At Berak's shout, the merchant's face twisted instantly.
"Wh—what did you just say?!"
"Do you have ears? You heard me clearly. Filthy bastard."
At the unhesitating retort, the merchant trembled and jabbed his finger.
"Th—that little brat! Grab him! Grab him and bring him here right now!"
Then he added through gritted teeth.
"Don't wound him! He's merchandise, after all."
The mercenaries drew their weapons. The forest warden glanced at them and said.
"Be careful. That strength is not ordinary."
"Ha!"
The mercenaries showed no sign of taking him seriously.
"If being a little strong made someone a match for us, we'd have to quit mercenary work."
"I never understood it from the start. We didn't need five men to catch one brat."
They exchanged glances and slowly closed the circle.
Berak silently raised the axe. He had never cut a person with it. But his fingertips remembered. The weight, the vibration, the power dwelling within it.
Except until now, he had never used that power to its fullest.
But now—
There was no longer any reason to hide it.