Chapter 113
Chapter 113
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: Revenge (1)
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It was hard to say whether it was a good omen or a bad one, but unlike the previous day which had been merely hot and clear, a fierce sandstorm was sweeping through the entire region by the time they woke in the morning.
The mercenaries, who had risen early, prepared for battle by readying their gear without a word.
A palpable tension hung in the air of the encampment.
“A sandstorm… This is good.”
“It is. It’ll provide cover.”
“Just in case, double-check everything.”
They left the tents as they were, moving the horses to a safe spot and tying them down. They had to be prepared for the journey ahead.
“As soon as you're ready, gather in front of the camp.”
No one answered. They just pulled cloth over their faces up to their noses and protected their eyes.
“The sandstorm will provide excellent cover. When I give the signal, we move quickly to the wall.”
Peri Batoni continued, surveying the members' preparations.
“Just because we've been gone a few months doesn't mean you've forgotten the layout of the base, right?”
Snickers broke out here and there.
“After that, it's simple. Once we're up against the outer wall, Kratos will take care of it. You’re confident you can get us through in one go, right?”
“Of course. I’ll get you through in one shot.”
Then, it would be a battle of strength against strength.
“We don't know how many enemies there will be, or how strong they are. We have no information.”
That didn't matter. How many enemies there were, or how strong they were, wasn't a consideration.
“But none of that matters. We are the White Mercenary Corps, and we're going to collect the blood debt for our comrades. Even if hundreds of enemies are waiting for us.”
No one here had any intention of backing down just because the enemy was strong. They intended to settle the entire blood debt this one time.
“Alright, let’s go. To lay our comrades' spirits to rest.”
“If we send those bastards to hell, our comrades who went first will be waiting for them at the gates.”
“Heh heh. Those bastards are about to die a second time.”
“Then we’d better send them quickly, so they don't have to wait any longer. Kratos is at the front. Everyone, keep your eyes on the backs of the comrades moving ahead of you.”
With that last joke, all the members lowered their heads and slowly advanced toward the base, pushing through the sandstorm.
All while watching the back of Kratos, who led from the very front.
.
.
.
.
.
The sandstorm grew stronger, and the accumulating sand concealed the mercenaries' forms and even their faint footsteps.
From the moment they left the camp until the moment they neared the outer wall, not a single word was spoken.
They just walked and walked, silently waiting for the signal.
They were merely following Kratos's back as he walked at the very front, yet the mercenaries felt that walking through the sandstorm was remarkably easier.
And then.
The long-awaited signal was passed down from the front.
The pace of all the mercenaries quickened, their walk turning into a run.
With the outer wall right before them, the surprise attack was now a race against time.
The member moving at the very back of the group was preparing for the assault along with the signal when—
*FWOOSH—*
Suddenly, a wind pressure greater than the sandstorm itself blasted through, and for a moment, they could see with perfect clarity.
Kratos swung his hammer with enough force to make it bend, aimed at the wall that looked not just solid, but impregnable. A gray energy erupted from the hammer’s head.
*KRA-KOOM—*
It was a single swing of the hammer, but its power was enough to make one fundamentally question whether it could be defined as a simple hammer strike.
Fragments of the fortress wall flew into the sky, then rained down inside, driven by the gray energy that surged from the hammer.
Like meteors.
That wasn't all. As if to press the advantage of the initial assault, Kratos threw his hammer, shattering the base of a nearby guard post, and then leaped up himself, dropping into the middle of the troops rushing out in a panic.
“Attack—!”
Peri Batoni's attack signal followed. The entire sequence—Kratos smashing the base's outer wall and the members behind him pouring into the base—all happened in a matter of seconds.
“It's an attack—! An attack!”
“Back to back—! Make sure you identify friend from foe!”
It was a complete reversal of the situation from just a few months ago.
The enemies, completely unprepared for the assault, rushed out of the base in a panic, and the corps members systematically cut the throats of the mercenaries who emerged.
By the time they had killed dozens of enemies.
The raging sandstorm subsided as if it had never been, revealing the gruesome state of the base.
Bodies lay everywhere, blood pooling on the ground.
“You bastards…”
As the sandstorm settled, the sight of Iscario emerging from within the base, gritting his teeth, made the members' grips on their weapons tighten instinctively.
“Iscario.”
“Peri Batoni.”
And the sight of the traitorous members standing behind him made him scowl.
“How dare you come here.”
“Where do you think, you bastard? It's our old base. We should have demolished it before we left, but we couldn't, so we came back. And to smash your heads in while we're at it.”
It was a vulgar tone that didn't fit the gravity of the battle at all.
“How dare—”
“How dare, what? You think you're some kind of noble? You're just a bastard who stabs his comrades in the back.”
“You baaastard—”
“What's that look for? Don't you recognize me, you fool?”
Kratos changed his mask to a face Iscario would recognize, then changed it back to his original one.
“Heh heh… I'm the grim reaper who's come to send you to hell.”
As soon as Iscario confirmed that the one interrupting and provoking him was Kratos, he drew his sword.
“Here—”
“You asking how dare we come here? I already told you. We came to take your head. We know the way, so you don't have to worry about us getting lost. You piece of shit—!”
Sword and hammer clashed.
Black demonic energy billowed from Iscario's sword, battling for dominance against the hammer's spiritual power.
“Demonic energy…”
Someone's hollow voice echoed emptily through the base.
Because the former comrades who had belatedly emerged from the base were all emitting demonic energy.
“It's the demonic energy of envy.”
Niceta, as if feeling an instinctual revulsion, radiated divine power.
“The demonic energy of envy. How fitting.”
“What do you know! Shut your mouth!”
Peri Batoni, who had a fairly accurate idea of why Iscario had done such a thing, raised a corner of his mouth, thinking it was indeed quite fitting.
Jealousy. An inferiority complex toward Kratos.
To think that for that one reason, he'd drive his comrades to their deaths and throw his lot in with the Empire, only to end up addicted to demonic energy and become the Empire's dog.
What a pathetic state he was in.
“I was wondering what that foul smell was, and here are the defeated dogs, back again. I don't know what scraps you've come back to pick up.”
And at the very back, seeing the face of a man in the uniform of the Central Intelligence Bureau who ambled into view, Peri Batoni gave a short laugh and aimed his sword.
“We didn't get to properly introduce ourselves last time. Who would have thought you'd use poison in a conversation between swords?”
“Sorry, but I'm no knight.”
“That's what I'm saying. I was the fool for letting my guard down. I'll have to erase this stain on my record with my own hands.”
He met Kratos's eyes. Their opponents were decided.
“Niceta. Assist the vice-captain.”
“Understood.”
Divine power was a direct counter to poison. Of course, Peri Batoni had his own countermeasures, but it was better to be certain.
“All units, battle formation!”
Their will to fight was so full it was overflowing; you could almost feel the heat.
“Don't you dare die. Not a single one of you.”
Those words were the signal, and the battle began.
***
“Sorry, but you're no match for me.”
He parried the blade of Iscario, who charged forward, gritting his teeth.
All too easily.
“Why. Why—!”
“I don't know what movie you've been watching, but your delusions are getting out of hand. Seems you imagined a scene where you'd get demonic energy, get stronger, and—ta-da!—defeat the hero.”
If there's one thing I've learned in my not-so-short life, it's that jealousy never leads to a good end.
Because there's a clear limit to how high you can climb by tearing others down and using them as a stepping stone.
No, in the first place, tearing someone down doesn't actually diminish them. It's only you who feels that way.
“Sorry, but things like that don't exist in this world. There's only something ugly left behind.”
*CRASH—!*
When the flat of the sword and the hammer collided, it was Iscario who was sent flying, crashing into the outer wall of a building.
*Crumble—*
A thick cloud of dust rose, and a pile of dirt fell on the bastard's head.
“You can't beat me. No matter how much of envy's demonic energy you've accepted. No, even if you took it to the extreme and transformed into Envy itself.”
Reacting to those words, Iscario's body trembled and floated into the air. Just as Ivan Pons had done in the Demonic Realm.
A short laugh escaped him. Seeing him try to transform into Envy with such a small amount of demonic energy, he could guess the sheer size of the bastard's jealousy.
However, he deliberately took a step back and watched the bastard transform.
“It's an unwritten rule not to attack when someone is combining or transforming.”
Even if the opponent is a villain.
“*Krrrk—*”
Unlike Ivan Pons, not even the slightest human form remained. His body wasn't as large as expected, but his appearance was close to that of a snake.
Should I call it a lizardman-like form, or maybe a merman…? No, it was a bit more grotesque than that.
“*Kieeeek—*”
“Nothing special.”
The bastard, seeming quite satisfied with the power of envy dwelling in his body, let out a rough roar.
“*Keuk—*”
Of course, the regular members staggered, covering their ears.
*CRACK—*
His hammer, filled with spiritual power, snapped the bastard's head to the side.
“Why—”
With a single swing of the hammer, the bones in the bastard's face were half-caved in, and he staggered as if in disbelief.
“What do you mean, 'why'? It's all because you're weak.”
Did he think I let him finish transforming for no reason? Especially in the middle of a large-scale battle like this. I did it because I knew I could win.
Because there was zero chance of losing, and it was clear there would be no significant damage to the surroundings.
“Why… Why! WHY! Why can't I reach you!”
As if he had become a true monster, he just kept repeating the word 'why' while swinging his sword indiscriminately. It wasn't threatening at all.
“It must be despairing. To not be able to win even after a three-stage transformation.”
Spiritual Power and Annihilate Evil are definitely the natural enemies of these guys. This energy itself is a buff for me and a debuff for them.
“Go to hell and think carefully about why that is.”
Iscario, realizing something was wrong, raised both hands to block the hammer flying toward him, but the hammer completely obliterated his entire upper body without a trace.
“And settle things with the guys in hell, too. There are quite a few of them waiting for you there.”
He picked up the sword the bastard had been holding. A well-forged sword. The sword Dwalin had made for him.
And the sword that had been plunged into his comrades' backs.
He carefully placed it in his inventory. He had to collect them all and give them to Dwalin.
When he turned his head, the other battles were also nearly finished.
Fortunately, it seemed no one had died, and the only remaining fight was Peri Batoni's. And that battle, too, was nearing its end.