Chapter 147
Chapter 147
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 147
Chapter Title: 46. Cataclysm (2)
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Even after quite some time had passed since that sudden strange phenomenon ended, Burk Bertren's heart refused to settle.
He wandered aimlessly through the camp, trying to calm himself.
Puuu—
As he walked on for a good while, the blare of a horn rang out.
"The Sky Knights have returned!"
Soldiers' shouts echoed.
Burk Bertren reflexively looked up at the western sky.
A single wyvern was hurtling toward the camp.
They had set out with a hundred riders, so why had only one come back?
The old noble's heart plummeted.
Dreadful imaginings raced through his mind.
"Huh? Why's he alone?"
"No way..."
As he stared rigidly at the wyvern, murmurs rippled through the soldiers.
His unease deepened.
He strained his eyes.
The wyvern's wingbeats looked somehow frantic.
Gauging its trajectory, he broke into a run.
Screeech!
The wyvern streaked overhead.
Its distinctive fishy reek pierced his nostrils, mingled with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of something burned.
Grinding his teeth, he picked up speed.
Far off, the wyvern was descending. It was a desperate landing, more crash than anything.
"Magicians! Any healers with recovery magic, where are you?!"
A scream-like voice followed.
As he passed the tents, a swarm of people blocked his path like bees from a disturbed hive.
"What's this? Back alone?"
"Dragging some corpse..."
In the swelling murmurs, the word "corpse" stabbed especially sharp into his ears.
"Out of the way!"
He bulldozed through soldiers and knights with brute force.
Beyond the medical tent's flap stood the wyvern.
Its back heaved with ragged breaths, drenched entirely in red. The saddle was soaked in blood, and its yellowish scales were caked with clots where blood had streamed and dried.
Burk Bertren scowled.
His eyes stung unbearably dry. His vision narrowed. Rather than rub them, he turned his head.
And at last, he saw the wyvern rider.
And at the rider's feet, the figure of a man collapsed in ruin, utterly still.
The old noble approached the man.
Up close, the man's condition was even more horrific.
Melted leather armor clung to his skin like a second flesh. Even that was mangled, slashed and hacked everywhere. The exposed skin beneath was grotesquely hideous.
Raw, reddened flesh bubbled with blisters, yellow pus oozing down. Dozens of sword cuts crisscrossed it—not a single one shallow.
His helmet was nowhere to be seen.
Only then did Burk Bertren realize he'd never seen the mercenary captain's face before.
The man always wore a helmet or pulled his cloak low. He was far younger than he'd imagined.
No—young didn't even cover it.
Barely eighteen or nineteen, at most.
"Ah..."
Gazing at that still-boyish face, the old noble finally let out the groan he'd been holding back.
His jaw was stained red with blood that had flowed and crusted. Nose and mouth were clogged with scabs. His skin was deathly pale, like blank paper.
The classic look of a knight who'd fought until his mana backlashed.
He didn't need to see it to imagine.
How desperately the young mercenary captain had battled amid the floodwaters.
"Step aside!"
A frantic voice shoved the old noble bodily aside.
It was one of the camp's magicians.
The magician dropped to his knees before the bloodied mercenary captain and unleashed waves of healing light.
The grotesquely swollen blisters subsided a little.
But it wasn't enough.
Another magician arrived, adding more light.
The sword scars etched across the man's body faded slightly. The raw red skin regained a hint of its original hue.
Even so, his wounds remained dire.
Just then, the main force commander and the young vice-captain of the Sky Knights appeared.
"Report."
The wyvern rider snapped to attention at the vice-captain's steely tone.
"Immediately after shattering the enemy's large-scale magic, all wyvern knights descended in unison, neutralizing their magical forces. Combat is likely still ongoing as we speak, and before I departed, our forces held an overwhelming advantage."
Soldiers and knights ringed around erupted in cheers.
They'd spent the night watching ragged survivors limp back like stragglers; news that the Sky Knights were dominating the foe was enough to reignite their wilted morale.
"Worthy of the Sky Knights!"
The commander laughed heartily, overjoyed.
Even amid the collective joy, Burk Bertren's face remained stiff.
At the end of his gaze, members of the Bail Mercenary Corps pushed through the crowd.
"...!"
The men and women, staring blankly at their slumped captain, staggered forward and dropped to their knees before him.
"......!"
A young man shouted through a twisted face.
No one there understood the unfamiliar tongue. But no one failed to grasp its meaning.
The mood sank like a douse of cold water. Cheers fell silent.
"Move him inside."
The young vice-captain ordered. The sweat-drenched magicians nodded.
Soldiers lifted the man onto a stretcher and headed for a tent. The Bail Mercenary Corps members trailed behind.
Burk Bertren watched the scene in a daze.
The Sky Knights, who had remained on the battlefield locked in combat with the enemy, returned.
Twenty-one enemy magicians, 194 knights. Two paladins.
That was the Sky Knights' tally for the day.
The overwhelming victory report flipped the camp's sagging spirits. Everyone praised the sharpness of the hidden blade Dotrin had kept in reserve.
But the Sky Knights showed no joy.
"By the time we arrived, the enemy was already in shambles. They were terrified, unable to form ranks or even think of resisting. The empire's vaunted paladins were no different. All we did was drive spears into the chests of those who couldn't properly grip their swords."
People chalked it up to humility, assuming the Sky Knights were elevating the outpost knights and soldiers who had fallen through the night.
But that wasn't it.
An astonishing tale spread from the lips of the Sky Knights.
It was the story of feats achieved single-handedly by a certain mercenary captain.
Three hundred knights, over twenty magicians. And five paladins.
The enemy numbers he had felled alone, before the Sky Knights even arrived on the field.
The wyvern knights said his overwhelming prowess had shattered the enemy's will to fight, allowing them to rack up kills without losses.
And they stressed that he was the one who earned the greatest merit in this battle, contributing most to saving their allies.
Of course, no one believed it.
It didn't make sense.
For a single mercenary—not even a knight—to achieve what ten knight orders combined couldn't? Not even a passing dog would buy that tale.
But there were believers.
The survivors from the outpost, whose lives he had saved.
"He shielded us from that horrific lightning—that's why we lived."
"He cleaved the lightning with a single stroke."
They vied to testify how devotedly the mercenary captain had fought, how extraordinary his feats.
They prayed daily for his swift recovery and visited his tent without fail.
The Bail Mercenary Corps members remained shut away in their captain's tent, regardless.
When Doris arrived at the Bail Mercenary Corps' tent, it was unusually rowdy inside for some reason.
Crashes and shouts poured out, followed by a shrill woman's voice.
Doris flung open the tent flap and rushed in.
Then froze solid.
Men with battered faces were pinning down a woman's limbs.
"Eek!"
The ponytail woman writhed furiously beneath the men.
Each thrash jolted the burly men's bodies.
"What in the world..."
As Doris spoke, the men glanced over.
Crack!
In that gap, the woman whipped her arm, smashing two men's heads together. She sprang to her feet.
But the eyes of the woman who rose gleamed with feral menace.
"Damn it! Grab her! Don't let her bolt!"
The men recoiled in horror and lunged again. But before they reached her, she snatched a sword from the corner of the tent.
The men froze mid-stride.
The woman glared at them with eyes flashing in different hues.
"I told you to clear out the swords, didn't I?"
"We did. That's His Highness's blade."
The men exchanged words, sweat beading coldly.
The woman took a step. The men backpedaled.
Doris eyed the woman. Her presence was utterly unlike a knight's sharp aura—like a beast's. Unthinkingly, his hand drifted to his sword hilt.
"Don't draw that sword! You'll cause a disaster!"
One of the men yelled.
But it was too late. Doris had already half-drawn his blade.
The moment the woman saw the white steel, madness dripped from the corners of her eyes.
It was unmistakable killing intent.
Doris scowled. He didn't know the full story, but it was clear the woman wasn't in her right mind.
He needed to subdue her first.
Whether that was possible was another matter.
This woman he'd never even noticed before radiated an overwhelming presence the instant she bared her aura.
Under that beastly pressure, Doris swallowed dryly.
The woman stepped forward.
Thud!
A sudden dull thump rang out, and she halted.
Before her stood a cloaked half-elf, appearing like a ghost.
The woman glanced at the fist buried in her gut and doubled over. In that instant, the men swarmed and pinned her down.
Panting fiercely while crushed beneath them, the woman suddenly broke into pitiful sobs.
"Why do you keep stopping me... I just wanted to avenge His Highness..."
Her weeping was so heartrending that Doris momentarily wondered if the men were tormenting her.
But those feral eyes still burned in his memory. A glance showed the bruises mottling the men's faces. She was no victim.
She sobbed like that until rage overwhelmed her and she fainted.
The men warily backed away from her.
"Whew. It's getting worse by the day. She'll bolt before His Highness even wakes."
"Or kill us first."
The men heaved rough breaths, lamenting.
In the meantime, the half-elf retrieved the sword the woman had dropped and buckled it to her waist. Then she bound the woman mercilessly—like a traitor guilty of high treason.
Doris watched blankly before asking.
"What the hell is going on here?"
"Just calming down the cute little miss who wanted to avenge the boss."
"Do it twice, and we're all dead."
"Tell me about it."
One man wiped sweat from his brow and got to business.
"Came to check on any progress."
"Same as you see. Mana flow's erratic, still unconscious."
The man replied indifferently.
Magicians had poured healing magic over days, managing only to knit the skin wounds. The prince remained comatose, showing no signs of waking.
It had already been four days.
As Doris gazed at the prince with a hardened face, the man suddenly declared.
"Soon as His Highness improves, we're taking him back to the kingdom."
The abrupt statement made Doris frown.
"If any blood must be spilled for that man, it'll be on Leonberger soil—not Dotrin's."
But the man paid no heed to his expression.
"We've more than repaid Dotrin's hospitality and friendship."
Thanks to the prince drawing the enemy magicians' eyes alone in the heart of their lines, countless lives were saved. Hundreds directly rescued, thousands indirectly.
No need to tally his kills; the empire's debt had long been unpayable.
Even before that, Doris had no intention of holding the Leonberger prince hostage under pretense of debt.
He simply worried about sending him back in such a broken state.
"Call anytime you need. The Sky Knights will escort your return."
But he had no grounds to stop a subordinate from escorting his lord home.
"Thank you."
The man offered thanks and fell silent.
Doris lingered a moment longer, watching the prince, then left the Bail Mercenary Corps' tent.
Despite the massive losses from the battle days ago, the camp's mood wasn't entirely dour.
More survivors from the outpost had returned than expected—far beyond the half they feared lost—and the Sky Knights' steady kills over the past few days helped too.
The war had settled into a lull.
With wyvern knights dominating the skies and launching raids at will, the imperial forces burrowed deeper into the floodplains instead of venturing out.
The dense trees concealed them.
They could launch a determined assault if they tried, but there was no need to push.
The Sky Knights had already expanded their range beyond the floodplains and racked up solid gains.
No sense provoking the tens of thousands hunkered down there.
Just watch and wait.
Make sure they didn't pop out somewhere unexpected.
"What the hell's that 3rd Prince thinking?"
Doris shook his head, thinking of the imperial prince who had become the empire's overall commander.