Chapter 143
Chapter 143
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 143
Chapter Title: 45. The Day the Path to Heaven Opens (2)
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One of the Empire's knights who spotted me charged forward.
And in an instant, his chest split open, and he met his end.
Only then did the onrushing knights slow their pace.
But they didn't stop.
They had simply grown a bit more cautious.
My name was still largely unknown among the Imperial forces. My presence was even masked by the power of the Hour of the Watch, making me look like nothing more than an ordinary mercenary.
A slightly larger roadside stone—something they could trample underfoot without a second thought.
But they had no idea.
That today, they would all trip over that very stone and fall.
The lead paladin ignored me and pushed past.
I didn't block him.
Instead, I cut down the knights following in his wake, one after another.
"Gah!"
"Urk!"
The successive screams made the paladin, who had charged ahead, glance back.
"You filth!"
The enraged paladin gripped his sword and doubled back.
Seeing him approach, I...
Grinned.
And hurled myself into the thicket.
His roar echoed behind me, but I ignored it.
I had no intention of wasting time or energy on a paladin. Today, my goal was to take down as many Imperial knights as possible.
I hid in the woods and burst out again at the right moment.
I ambushed the Empire knights locked in fierce combat with Dotrin's knight order.
The knights struck by my sudden blows collapsed in droves.
"You rat!"
That same paladin spotted me and unleashed his killing intent. Seeing me flee into the woods again, he scattered aura blades and closed the distance in a flash.
I crossed my twin swords to block his strike, then yanked my right sword straight down from there.
Kadang.
The blade grazed his breastplate, producing a grating screech.
Startled, he shook off his sword and retreated.
In that gap, I vanished back into the forest.
I repeated the same tactic endlessly. Circling the Imperial forces, I felled knights left and right.
I ignored anyone who might pin me down even briefly.
I focused solely on dropping as many knights as possible.
By the time the assault ended, I had taken down nearly an entire knight order's worth of enemies.
As dawn broke, a horn sounded.
The signal for retreat, as planned.
I pulled back without hesitation.
I rendezvoused with Dotrin's knights and escaped the swamp.
Back at base, some old men were waiting for me.
The former lord of Highwind Keep, Burk Bertin, and his retinue of veteran knights.
They stared at me like fledglings awaiting their mother bird. The sight made me chuckle.
"What? Didn't the knights who returned first tell you the results?"
"They said we won, but no one gave details. And with all of them looking like they might collapse any second, I couldn't bring myself to press them."
The old man Burk grumbled.
"So, you're the vigorous one. Tell us."
I answered without holding back.
"A great victory. Overwhelming."
"Details."
"Dark surroundings, stretched-out lines. On the whole, the enemy outnumbered us, but in each skirmish, we had the edge. Their forces were scattered. Our knights swarmed and trampled them. Just as the enemy tried to form up and counterattack, we retreated."
Burk and the veterans exchanged glances. They were piecing together the battle in their minds based on my words.
"And how many did you drop?"
"Three hundred gold extra."
The moment I finished, Burk scowled fiercely.
"See? I said you'd stick to your share exactly. A bet's a bet, though."
"Eh. I figured you'd at least take a few more."
Ah, so they'd made a wager.
Senile old fools. War wasn't a game.
"Your country's fighting for its survival, and that's what you do?"
"We're not betting on our knights' deaths—just gauging how many you'd kill. What's the issue? The more you slaughter, the better for us."
"Don't take it so hard. We were wishing—praying, even—for you to rack up as many as possible to ease our side's burden."
Burk and the veterans replied shamelessly.
There was some logic to it, so I shut my mouth.
I wrapped up the talk and headed for my tent when the old men trailed after me.
Not surprising anymore.
Burk Bertin and his cronies dogging my heels.
They had relinquished all titles and fully retired the moment the keep's evacuation succeeded.
First reason: Someone had to take responsibility for losing the keep.
Second: An old fogey who kept courting disaster couldn't lead soldiers.
Dotrin's command wanted to reward their successful retreat—even with civilians and wounded—and put them back in charge, but Burk refused flat-out.
Having cast everything aside, the old man chose to follow me.
I balked, but one line from Burk won me over.
"I got money."
From my perspective, fighting the Empire anyway, why refuse extra pay?
Burk Bertin was the official backer of the Veil Mercenaries.
"Ahem."
Lost in thought, I heard Burk clear his throat to get my attention.
Turning, I saw the old man regarding me gravely.
"I've said it before: You're strong. But war is no joke."
"That's rich coming from the geezer who just bet on that 'no-joke' war."
He ignored my jab and pressed on.
"The battle's over. You said you took down a hundred foes yourself. Yet you're far too calm. Almost... enjoying it. The other knights weren't."
His eyes darkened deeply as he spoke.
"Think they were killing for the first time? Even these duty-bound souls, sworn to die for king and country, recoil at the blood on their hands. You? Nothing."
I turned fully to face Burk Bertin.
"I can't imagine how many lives you've taken. A young mercenary reaching your level must have piled up quite the karma."
"So, what's your point?"
"Don't become a butcher who treats lives like flies. Kill enemies, yes—but with reverence. Don't mock death."
I met his gaze, then nodded.
"I'll keep it in mind."
"Hmph."
My reply must've seemed insincere. Burk groaned.
"Something's off about you. Missing. And you don't even know it."
The veterans tugged the head-shaking old man away. That was enough.
"Hey, let's drink."
"Could use a taste."
Burk and his crew vanished somewhere.
Left alone, staring blankly, I spotted Ilai and Gewain approaching from afar.
I recounted my talk with Burk.
Ilai scoffed.
"Bellies full, shitting themselves in bliss. We're killing or being killed, and he yammers about karmic weight? Should I weep for the bastard charging to murder me?"
He looked at me—no sarcasm, unlike usual.
"Ignore the senile ramblings, Your Highness. You're doing fine."
His firm words drew a smirk from me, but Gewain spoke up.
"He's not wrong."
"What nonsense you spouting now?!"
Ilai's eyes blazed instantly.
"Captain Ian's missing something, yeah. Kinda inhuman."
"You punk, what do you know?!"
"Gotta own it. Captain Ian's a war maniac."
Utter fury twisted Ilai's face—a first for me.
"You saw it, huh?! How His Highness fought at Winter Keep?! Orcs devoured a wall! Our ranger lads dropped like flies! You see His Highness dive in alone to save 'em, fighting till his body was shredded?!"
I felt awkward.
I knew Dotrin knights gossiped about me: battle-hardened merc with shady motives, war-crazed.
They respected my skill but despised my origins and zeal.
Like the Mercenary King, master of the Golden Hour.
I brushed it off, but it stressed Ilai out.
His sudden outburst showed it.
Too riled to use "Captain"—calling me "Your Highness"—but I couldn't stop him.
Not when he dredged up ugly memories.
"The day Winter Keep fell. His Highness, half-corpse, carted in—what do you think he did? Unconscious, yet he clamped a horn in his teeth, blaring retreat. Know what he said?"
I thought I'd grown numb, but Ilai's passion revived it all, choking me.
"He'd buy time. Chest torn, wrist dangling. Barely standing! Told everyone to run. Couldn't even ID the spear cavalry before him. Didn't know where he was. Said he'd stay, so go..."
I squeezed my eyes shut unwittingly.
Did I? No memory. Half-conscious then.
"War maniac, my ass. What does a kid of fifteen, sixteen know?"
Probably nightmare-talk. Knights and cavalry throwing lives to save me—that day's horror. Sleep-talked it out.
Stifling grief, a sudden killing intent jolted my eyes open.
"Warlord. Anyone who saw you collapse wailing before that shit-eating bastard's corpse wouldn't spout crap like that. So."
Ilai had drawn his sword, snarling at Gewain's throat.
"Shut it, Gewain. Before I kill you."
I grabbed the trembling, furious Ilai.
Shook my head.
"Aargh!"
He bellowed at me, then stomped the dirt in a frenzy.
Finally, panting, he sheathed his blade.
"So don't listen to those doddering fools, Your Highness. The world's fucked—not you."
He stomped off.
"Where?!"
"To rest!"
"Wrong way to the tents!"
Ilai stormed past, huffing.
Staring at his back, Gewain spoke.
"Didn't know. But no apology."
"Fine. We're not the type."
I shrugged indifferently. He continued.
"But you're inhuman somewhere. Unsettling. Winter Keep folk worship you, though."
I shrugged again.
Not wrong.
Human turned sword, sword turned magic sword.
After that battle, the Empire's army didn't venture rashly from the swamp.
They tightened formations, spacing knight orders and paladins to guard against ambushes.
Imperial mages cast wide-area detection spells routinely, blunting our raids.
Several ambushes yielded little but casualties.
Dotrin's leadership held daily councils.
We'd mauled the vanguard badly, but the main force and rearguard were intact. We needed to inflict maximum damage before they escaped the swamp.
But it was tough.
Time passed; the Empire adapted to swamp fighting. Shaking their host wasn't easy.
Small consolation: the Empire's 3rd Prince, bolstered by past merits, commanded the main force.
Ironic.
Intel said he'd whipped the vanguard into advancing too far.
Incompetent, hot-tempered 3rd Prince drove them to doom.
Then he rescued the near-broken vanguard.
Main force knights, paladins, mages—all under his orders.
Vanguard commander bore the failure; 3rd Prince claimed the save.
Masterstroke unworthy of an empire-ruiner.
"Someone sharp's advising the 3rd Prince."
I was certain.
A brain advising him.
Not just smart—cunning enough to placate the tyrant's whims while issuing sound orders.
Half-right, half-wrong.
Someone quick-witted was with him. But not flattering him.
No need.
The 3rd Prince had to flatter him.
I realized it while nearly wrecking their heavily guarded supply depot deep in the swamp.
"Urk."
I felled the last resisting Imperial knight. No thought to retrieve my sword from his chest—I froze.
Thump.
Heart raced.
Energy burst from it, overriding the Golden Hour's will, surging outward.
My aura rose instinctively, enveloping me.
Whoooo.
Even the hero's aura shielding me couldn't quell the heart's throbs.
I creaked my head around.
"Ah..."
I saw it.
Clear sky, cloudless—save one spot roiling with dark clouds.
Flash!
Lightning spewed forth.
Dozens of bolts crashed down.
Boom! Boom!
Thunder followed belatedly.
Bolts ceased; thunder faded.
But I couldn't move.
An immense presence had summoned that storm there.
I gritted my teeth against the horrific pressure.
Infused mana into my shout.
"Retreat! Fall back!"
Dotrin knights and soldiers, stunned by the anomaly, looked to me.
"Run, you idiots!"
Crushed by my aura and presence, they asked where.
"Abandon the outpost! Straight to HQ! Circle wide!"
Forgetting I was just a mercenary, they fled the field in panic.
Without destroying the supplies we'd fought to reach.
I ran along the swamp, yelling.
"Run! Circle wide! To main base!"
Dotrin raiders, frozen mid-ambush by the portent, pulled back at my words.
I kept running.
This large-scale raid involved nearly half our frontline strength.
If wiped, the line would collapse.
Had to save them all.
No time.
The colossal presence advanced from the exit, up the swamp toward us.
I bellowed with mana.
Running far...
"Huh?"
The massive presence vanished like a mirage.
I halted, gazing skyward.
Dark clouds choked it now—who knew when they'd gathered.
"Ha."
Lightning flickered amid them. I let out a hollow laugh.
"No wonder things were going too smoothly."
Then the world drowned in light.