From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 6
From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 6
"Get him!"
The mercenaries rushed in all at once. In the blink of an eye, the first sword was right in front of his face. Berak reflexively raised his axe and blocked it.
Clang!
That alone sent his opponent's arm flying upward. It bent back sharply, as if wrenched. The sword slipped from his grasp and arced through the air behind him. The moment his unguarded chest was exposed, Berak drove his shoulder straight into it.
"Guh!"
The man's body bounced off the ground. He arced through the air as if he had been thrown, farther than the fallen sword, before slamming hard into the dirt.
Meanwhile, another sword came at Berak's side. This time he gathered his strength properly. It felt as though everything from his palm to his shoulder and across his entire back was converging on a single point. Berak put all of that force into a blow driven down onto the blade.
Crack—
An ominous sound split the air. It was the sound of flesh and bone twisting at once. The mercenary's arm bent and warped. The sword dropped from his fingertips. The scream came a beat later.
"Aaargh!"
The man clutched his arm and shook violently. Berak extended his leg toward the man's knee. As if shoving him away with his foot. Short and fast.
Crack—
A sensation much like before came through. So this was what a broken bone felt like. He understood immediately.
With two mercenaries neutralized in an instant, a chill settled over the clearing.
The rest of them, who had been about to charge, hesitated. They glanced at one another, their steps faltering.
"What the hell is this! You said he was just some strong brat!"
One of them shouted, his voice thick with anger.
"That bastard's using Anima!"
Every mercenary's gaze turned toward the forest warden at once.
Under those accusing stares, the forest warden looked flustered. He tried to compose himself, but his voice trembled.
"That's impossible! He's a serf with confirmed lineage! He's just strong, that's all!"
"Shit, if he's that strong, it doesn't make a damn bit of difference."
Someone muttered through clenched teeth.
'Anima?'
It was a word he had never heard before, but it wasn't what he needed to worry about right now.
Right now, he had to focus on the men in front of him.
In the brief lull in the fighting, Berak caught his breath. Two mercenaries lay sprawled before him. A result he had produced himself.
"Ugh... uuugh."
One lay right in front of him, trembling all over. The other, farther away, had his head planted in a pool of his own vomited blood.
'Haha... is this really my strength?'
There hadn't even been the faint resistance he felt when cutting wood. He had simply swung, and whatever he touched had been sent flying. There wasn't even any recoil at the moment of impact.
The tension vanished completely. Berak adjusted his grip on the axe handle and stepped forward. That alone made some of them retreat a step.
Breaking through that hesitation, the slave trader stepped forward.
"I don't care if he gets hurt! With strength like that, we profit as long as we catch him! Just don't cut off his arms or legs! Bring him in and I'll pay an extra ten silver coins each!"
At those words, the will to fight returned to the enemies' faces. Berak felt their gazes converge on him. Their eyes held a mix of fear and greed.
"Now!"
Three of them moved at once.
The first sword flashed from the left. It collided with the axe Berak raised.
Clang—!
Metal rang out. At the same moment, a shield slammed in from the front.
Boom!
The shield's angle caught the axe blade. The shield was driven back. But another sword slipped in from the right. Berak flicked his wrist and deflected it with a short strike.
Whoosh—
The next attack. This time he couldn't block it and barely twisted his body aside. The blade passed close to his arm. It cut only air, but even that sent a chill down Berak's spine. Now he truly understood what it meant to fight against flesh-cutting steel.
The fight continued like that. The three of them kept switching positions. When the shield absorbed a blow, two swords followed right behind it. When Berak counterattacked, another sword shifted its angle and pressed in.
When one pulled back, the other two closed in.
There was no opening. They attacked in a natural rhythm, flowing together.
Berak narrowed his brow. The sensations in his body felt different.
'This is different from before. It feels like the force is draining away.'
They weren't sent flying in a single blow like before. The impact spread out strangely.
'Could it be because the angle of impact with the axe changed?'
There was a subtle difference in the deflection angle between how they had first responded and how they were handling him now.
From Berak's perspective, that was the only thing that had changed.
But they didn't look comfortable either. Every time Berak struck back, it disrupted their timing. Someone was pushed back; someone else's arm or wrist shook.
If not for those brief hesitations, Berak would probably have taken a wound by now.
"We keep deflecting, but he's still pushing us back...!"
"Guh. This bastard's a monster......."
Berak was gradually getting the feel of it. If they deflected his force, he just needed to put in more force to match.
'And I can see it....... Vividly, how my axe is moving.'
With every clash, vibrations traveled to his fingertips. The axe's movements became clearer and clearer. The swing angle changed. The point where he loaded his strength changed.
It wasn't just cutting. Hooking, twisting, pushing too. The feel he had developed handling wood in the forest was changing form and evolving on the battlefield.
「Axe Proficiency + 1」
「Axe Proficiency + 1」
The mercenaries' movements began to slow. The shield drooped, and the sword tips wavered.
The moment Berak inwardly felt certain of victory.
Crack.
The weight in his hand lightened. The old loading-dock axe couldn't hold up and snapped. The cracked axe head fell toward the ground.
"You bastard!"
A mercenary on the left raised his hand sharply. Something released from his arm.
At first Berak thought it was a leather cord. But then steel glinted right before his eyes.
'A net?!'
Before the thought could even finish, the weighted end tore through the air.
Whoosh—!
Faster than he expected. Berak twisted his body, but the edge of the net caught his shoulder and wrapped around it. He had barely moved, yet the leather cords tightened on their own.
"Now!"
The mercenary shouted. The other two charged at once.
'This much... won't finish me!'
Berak lowered his head. There was another axe on the ground. It was the sidearm of the first man who had charged and fallen.
'Ngh.'
The more he moved, the worse the pressure became. A dull pain ran along his shoulder. Still, what mattered was that he could move. Berak shifted his steps and bent at the waist.
Rip—
The tough leather cords couldn't hold and began to tear, little by little. He could feel that with enough time, he could break them completely. But the men would reach him before that.
He had to pick up the axe. He put in a little more strength. His fingertips barely touched the metal handle.
"What the—"
"Th-the net... it's tearing!"
Berak twisted the axe in place. The blade's edge caught the net's weight.
A short snap.
Iron scraped, and the taut leather snapped apart.
Snap!
The broken pieces flew in every direction.
The charging mercenary's sword was just about to reach him. Berak spun and swung with everything he had. The sword was sent flying.
For the enemies, that had been their final gambit, aimed at the opening. When that single instant of surprise failed, the balance they had barely maintained collapsed completely.
"Aagh!"
They were exhausted mercenaries. They couldn't withstand Berak's axe swings any longer. On impact, their weapons were knocked away.
Arms broke and bodies flew.
Boom—!
The shield was no different. A single blow split it apart. The metal rim bent, and the wooden frame shattered.
The last man fell backward. Before his body even hit the ground—
"Damn it, you crazy monster...!"
The slave trader stumbled backward. His feet tangled, and he swayed as if about to fall. A sound that could have been a curse or a scream burst out of him.
"How is this thing human?!"
The slave trader turned his back, trying to flee. Berak's gaze swept over him.
Before he could think, the axe was already moving.
Whoosh—
The air tore. It was a new feeling. The sensation of condensed force leaving his hand and flying away.
"Aaaaaagh!"
The slave trader's arm split open, and his scream tore through the air. His silk clothes soaked red. He collapsed and slammed into the ground.
Berak slowly exhaled. A short message floated into his vision.
「Throwing Proficiency + 1」
* * *
The smell of blood still hung thick.
And within it—
the voice of the one still conscious reached him.
"...What in the world are you?"
It was the forest warden.
He sat slumped against the wall, clutching his arm. His bloodless face trembled. Yet his eyes still looked down on Berak with the same haughtiness.
"Th-this is not something you d-d-dare to do. A mere serf, are you planning to attack your superior? Put down that axe right now and kneel. Then... then I might let it sli—"
Berak's shadow fell over him. The forest warden's words cut off. Before his eyes, the axe blade slowly rose.
"Wait, wait just a moment...! I saw your strength. I acknowledge it. I can teach you how to use it properly. I can help you get whatever you want. If you kill me now, you're just a fugitive. But if you stay under me, I'll cover up everything you've done today."
The forest warden gasped for breath and kept talking.
"Do as I say. That's the only way you survive."
"To me......."
Berak's voice came out low. He brought the axe down.
Thud.
"I told you not to give me orders."
With a heavy sound, the forest warden's face snapped back. His body, propped against the wall, crumpled slowly. Blood sprayed in every direction.
A few teeth rolled across the ground.
At the last moment, Berak had turned the axe—not the blade, but the flat side.
"...Whew."
He didn't know if this was the right choice. But right now, he thought it was.
It would be easier if he got rid of them for good, but that wasn't a simple thing. The city was close.
He wasn't sure he could hide all the bodies, and he might get caught while going back and forth.
And if he was caught, it would mean serious trouble. Berak didn't know the law well. But he did know that killing a person was a grave crime.
If he left them alive, it might just blow over.
But if it became murder, wanted posters might go up. Like the papers he had seen a few times at the loading dock.
And killing this many people all at once... somehow, a corner of his heart still wouldn't allow it. Even if they were trash.
"Still, I should take what I'm owed."
Berak searched the unconscious slave trader and forest warden and took their coin pouches. They held quite a few gleaming coins. He tied the pouches inside his clothes beside the picture book.
"Since I've got a long road ahead."
He looked at the coins in his hand. They were things he had never once used in his life. But he knew what they were. Common laborers were paid in coins, and people used them to buy and sell goods.
Even in that filthy trade that had tried to buy and sell a person, what it had ultimately come down to was these little pieces of metal.
A long road.
Berak's choice was already made.
If slavery was illegal, he could report them and perhaps escape punishment.
But what came after that?
If word spread that a serf had defeated mercenaries, he would simply be dragged back to his old life in that instant.
A life where he could choose nothing for himself. Where he had to use his abilities solely for those above him.
Berak looked at the axe in his hand. The first one had broken, but what it meant lived on.
What he had cut away today with that axe was the chain that had bound the boy.
He slowly raised his head.
The wind blew. The smells of oil and blood mingled.
He would leave. To a place where no one knew him. A place where he could live not as Berak the serf, but simply as Berak.
Berak kicked off the ground. He ran, picking up speed.
'That way is the city.'
Far off, he could see faint lights. That direction was absolutely out. He turned his head and looked the opposite way. But he knew that was the direction of the logging camp.
'Not there either.'
It was a place he could no longer return to.
He couldn't cut through the city, so in the end he had to circle around the wall and keep going forward.
Berak changed direction. A low wall ran along the city's outskirts. A rampart built of brick and earth. Wooden palisades sat atop it.
It looked like a massive fence in the darkness.
Berak ran, keeping his distance from the wall. If he got too close, the patrols might spot him. If he strayed too far, he would lose his bearings. Maintaining a proper gap, he circled along the hills outside the city.
Thick fog lay over the sloping path. Every time rocks and roots caught his toes, dirt kicked up. But he didn't stop. Instead, he drove his feet into the ground harder and ran on.
Beyond the hill, the trees grew denser. The smell of grass thickened, and the soil softened underfoot.
Only after he realized he had fully entered the forest did Berak pause to catch his breath.
It had been a long night. Now it was time to check what had changed.
* Attributes
[Stamina: 248]
[Strength: 252]
[Intelligence: 6]
[Dignity: 0]
[Insight: 1/100]
[Stealth: 1/100]
[Body Proficiency: 20/100]
[Axe Proficiency: 16/100]
[Throwing Proficiency: 1/100]
'Quite a few new words appeared. My axe work definitely seems to have improved too.'
He didn't know all of them, but some of the letters were easier to guess at now than before.
'I just have to learn them all from now on.'
Berak looked only briefly, then cleared the letters from his mind.
It was still dark. The road ahead was long, so very long.
"...Heh."
Still, for some reason, Berak kept laughing.
It was an unfamiliar emotion, the first he had ever felt in his short life.
This had to be—
"Hahahaha!"
Joy.
Before he knew it, moonlight was shining down on the boy.