Chapter 97
Chapter 97
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 97
Chapter Title: Home (1)
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“Insane.”
It was as if my brain was buffering; no other words came to mind.
For a fleeting moment.
The world had literally split in two and then rejoined. The disconnect of that moment was seared into my mind, delivering an unparalleled shock.
The instant the world split, my spiritual power went wild to protect me, and the world, which had been misaligned like broken glass, returned to normal.
“What in the...”
It felt like I'd gotten a glimpse of what lay beyond, something I could only look up to now. It was the first time I'd experienced anything like this since coming here.
Goosebumps erupted all over my body, and a shiver ran through me. I felt like my mind had gone blank, submerged in ecstasy.
Ditto must have sensed it too, as he had already jumped down from my head, transformed into his wolf form, and was crouching low, baring his teeth with a growl.
“Hngh—!”
But the other corps members, unable to overcome the cognitive dissonance, failed to react properly. They clutched their dizzy heads and collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.
It was understandable. If not for my spiritual power, I surely wouldn't have been able to comprehend or endure it either.
How could anyone witness such a thing and maintain their composure?
I clenched my teeth. Gradually, the ringing in my ears faded, and they began to pick up the sounds around me.
“Aaaargh—”
“A priest—get me a priest—!”
The scene around me was more gruesome than I'd imagined. The remnants of the world's misalignment.
“Help... help me.”
It matched the horizontal slash of Mike Hoare's sword.
In other words, this wasn't some strange phenomenon but the result of his sword swing, which had sliced through everything.
Every Imperial soldier in the path of the slash had parts of their bodies severed, now rolling on the ground.
Due to that momentary rift, soldiers who should have died instantly were still breathing, fully experiencing the agony of being torn apart.
It was a scene of pure carnage.
The sight of men cut in half, clutching at the feet of their surviving comrades and begging for help, fueled the enemy's terror and dread. These negative emotions spread like a contagion through the entire Imperial army.
The fear of overwhelming power.
“Snap out of it—! Now's our chance!”
Since I was the only one here who had kept his wits, I roared and swung my crowbar furiously.
It was just a shame that we were in the middle of a battle.
“Otherwise, I could have taken my time to savor this... you damn bastards—!”
For now, the priority was to smash the enemies before me and escape. I'd have to vent this anger on them.
The few who were still lucid fell in behind me, and we systematically killed off the ones who were still dazed.
Mike Hoare's single strike had killed countless men, but plenty were still left.
Mike Hoare, perhaps from the euphoria of the moment, had his eyes closed and was breathing deeply, but he swayed slightly as if his stamina was drained.
“Clear a path—!”
“My, what a loud voice. And from someone who was on the verge of death just moments ago.”
“What was that, you brat? You're a hundred years too early for that!”
A few knights managed to pull themselves together, but the momentum was on our side. Their morale had plummeted, while ours had soared.
Pushing through the thousands of soldiers and escaping the southern mountain range wasn't too difficult.
***
“To think those bastards would actually be useful for a change.”
“Tell me about it. Stupid fools. Leaving their base completely empty without even a minimum guard force to come after us.”
Unaware of Ruben Whittle's true circumstances, the mercenaries had seized the opportunity while the Imperial army was away chasing them. They'd stolen the base's wagons and escaped the southern mountain range.
And of course, they had utterly destroyed the base to ensure they wouldn't be followed immediately.
The mercenaries' faces were bright as they escaped the southern mountains. They had finally brought an end to their months-long mission.
“Ahhh—the first thing I'm doing when we get back to HQ is downing a pint of beer.”
“You damn fool. First thing you'll be doing is standing guard duty at the base.”
The wagons were now completely out of the southern mountains, racing north. The mercenaries, their tension easing, began to exchange jokes.
The journey back to headquarters after a long mission was always exciting.
Like coming home.
“By the way. Captain, have you truly reached the level of Grandmaster?”
At someone's question, all eyes turned to Mike Hoare.
It was a question on everyone's mind. Had he reached a level beyond Sword Master? The realm of legends.
“Not yet. I've only glimpsed a fraction of it and have just begun to grasp it.”
“Even if it's just a fraction...”
Mike Hoare still felt dazed just thinking about it. A surge of emotion he hadn't felt since becoming a Sword Master and reaching the highest level.
And euphoria.
Just glimpsing what lay beyond the realm he thought was the end made something long dormant stir within his chest again.
And he had a strong conviction that he could cross that boundary and reach the next stage.
“My god. A level above the peak of Sword Master.”
“Man, the Empire's gonna regret this. See, the Captain really is a villain. The kind the Empire has to catch.”
As all the mercenaries chuckled and laughed about their captain's new level of power, Mike Hoare didn't join in, instead observing the expressions of the 3rd Corps.
“...You look like you have something to say.”
Seamus had been moving his mouth as if he wanted to say something. His expression was very serious.
Kratos and the other members of the 3rd Corps looked the same.
“This road isn't leading to the Ashar Desert.”
Moreover, the wagons were heading north, not toward Ashar.
Heading north, away from our headquarters in Ashar? And without telling him, their captain?
Didn't that mean something of grave importance had happened to the mercenary corps?
“Hoo, about that...”
“Wait, don't say it now. If it's that important, then everyone who was on the mission should hear it together. It's a matter concerning the entire corps.”
They would have to stop at some point anyway.
Perhaps because of Mike Hoare's words, the atmosphere in the wagon instantly grew heavy.
As the adrenaline from the battle subsided, countless things that had gone unnoticed began to surface.
For starters, where was Ren, the commander of the 3rd Corps, and why was a rookie in his place? And why had they come to rescue them, with only four people?
And why were they heading north instead of to Ashar? Without even stopping at a single town along the way.
Why. Why. Why.
What in the world had happened to the mercenary corps?
The questions wouldn't leave his mind. And dark thoughts filled his head. Things he desperately hoped hadn't come to pass.
“The sun's setting. We should prepare to make camp. I think we've lost the Imperials for now.”
As the sun set, the wagons came to a stop in the middle of a quiet forest.
Even the mercenaries in the lead wagon, who had been chattering away obliviously, started to sense the unusual atmosphere and grew quiet.
It wasn't just quiet; the air was heavy, tense, as if something was about to explode.
Despite the mood, preparations for camp were finished, and when everyone had gathered around the campsite.
“Now, let's talk. Tell me exactly what happened.”
The time had come to face the uncomfortable truth they had been unaware of. And the current situation.
.
.
.
.
.
“…”
Even after the whole story was told, no one could easily speak. No, they couldn't bring themselves to speak.
Mike Hoare's face was grim, his mouth shut tight in a terrifying expression.
“Is all of it true? The state of the Empire, Iscario's betrayal, the corps being in Rzhev, the impending war?”
“Yes.”
He probably wasn't looking for a long answer.
Mike Hoare himself found it hard to believe; he was likely just seeking confirmation.
“How many survived?”
“Less than half.”
“Less than half...!”
This was a mercenary corps that had been around for nearly twenty years, since the days of Prometheus. One of the oldest surviving corps, you could count them on one hand.
And now, that very corps was in crisis. Family had stabbed family in the back. With the Empire's help, no less.
On top of that, the Emperor had suddenly gone mad, claiming to be a god, the nobles were tainted by demonic energy, and the continent was in chaos from monster waves.
All this had happened in the few months they were away on a mission. Who could possibly accept it so easily?
It wasn't as if they'd woken up after sleeping for years.
“Iscario, Iscario! That bastard...!”
Silence soon turned to rage. The fury emanating from a hundred men echoed through the forest, and even the horses shied away in fear.
“So, you've set up in the Demonic Realm?”
“Yes. I thought it was a suitable place for a new home.”
“Hah. That's a real stroke of luck. What on earth possessed you to go to the Demonic Realm.”
“At the time, it was the best choice.”
Mike Hoare barely suppressed his boiling anger and continued the conversation.
It was better to swallow his own rage. The anger pouring from the other corps members was enough. The captain's position was one that had to encompass everything.
“No, not the best choice. It was the *perfect* choice. The Demonic Realm is more than sufficient as a new base. Of course, we still have to take back our original home, Ashar. No matter what.”
There was nothing they could do right now. He would have to think of a plan on the way and talk things over with Peri Batoni when they reached the north.
“We head to Rzhev as fast as possible. So much has happened while we were gone. But we can't just let those bastards who stabbed us in the back get away with it.”
“Of course not!”
“We'll get to sleep early tonight. From dawn tomorrow, we ride for Rzhev without stopping.”
The watch was set, and when all the mercenaries had fallen asleep, Mike Hoare lay in his sleeping bag and let out a dry laugh.
The situation was what it was, but he found it amazing how Kratos could recount all of this so matter-of-factly.
Purifying demonic energy. Conquering the Demonic Realm, and what? Robbing the Lubeck Central Bank?
“What a crazy son of a bitch.”
Of course, he'd only told him about robbing the bank in private, but to think he'd actually done it. He hadn't really believed it.
He himself hadn't survived this long on brute strength alone.
Of course, there had been a time for that, but after he passed away, he realized that what was most needed was a sharp mind.
Whether it was political power, the ability to read the flow of events, or knowing how to use people.
***
“Open the gates—!”
They had ridden without rest. Before long, the Imperials had chased them like madmen, blocked their path, and they'd encountered monsters.
Unable to take a train or use teleportation, they had traveled by wagon from the southern tip of the continent to the northern end.
But when they arrived in Rzhev, the corps members' expressions were not so much tired as they were complex.
Anger? Anticipation? Sorrow?
Had their close comrades survived? What were they supposed to do now?
All sorts of emotions were mixed on their faces.
“All men, form ranks—!”
The gates of Rzhev moved, opening just enough for one person to pass through, but a passionate cry already erupted from beyond.
“Captain...”
“The Captain is back!”
Whether wounded or whole, every surviving member of the mercenary corps was lined up in formation beyond the gate.
“Captain—!”
Ready to welcome the members returning from their long, long mission, each in their own way.
As if to declare that the White Mercenary Corps was not dead yet, and that this was a new beginning.