Chapter 57
Chapter 57
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: A Gift for Gringem
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“Halt.”
Even though there was still time before they reached the bandit hideout the thief had mentioned, Kyle picked up on faint sounds coming from ahead and stopped the soldiers. The clanging of iron against wood, metal on metal, and the thud of footsteps.
A variety of noises echoed from directly in front of them. Though only trees and grass were visible nearby, Kyle’s animalistic senses detected from the sounds alone that enemies were very close.
“Prepare for battle quietly. They’re right ahead.”
Shring—
The swordsmen drew their blades in unison. Heavy breaths of excitement leaked from beneath their lowered visors, anticipating the fight to come. And before long, movement was spotted in front of Kyle and the swordsmen.
Snap, crackle!
With their bodies slightly crouched in hiding, the sound of grass and fallen leaves crunching underfoot approached them. Soon, a single bandit stepped out slowly. He had a bow slung across his back and a sword at his waist. A scout.
‘To think these bandits are even using scouts. Their leader must have a tight grip on them.’
Kyle thought as he lowered himself further. Being bulkier than the others, he had to be extra careful not to be spotted. But the problem arose elsewhere.
“Sniff, sniff...”
The scouting bandit came right up to Kyle’s nose and flared his nostrils, sensing something amiss. Then, his nose caught the faint scent of blood.
The moment the wary bandit opened his mouth in alarm, Kyle shot out like lightning.
It was such a sudden ambush that even the hiding swordsmen were startled. His fist flew toward the bandit’s wide-eyed face.
Krunch!
In one blow, the bandit’s face caved in, spraying white corn kernels as he toppled backward. The other scouts behind him screamed at the abrupt turn of events.
“Enemies! There are enemies here!”
The bandit’s voice spread through the forest, reaching the ears of Esult, who was walking behind the scouts. He grinned, thinking of the battle about to unfold.
“They’ve been spotted, huh.”
“Prepare for battle! Enemies!”
Fighting in this densely packed woodland was a huge hassle, but the bandits were brimming with fighting spirit. They had confirmed Esult’s abilities through several raids by now. That was how much they trusted their leader.
Their group hadn’t started out this large. Esult had absorbed scattered bandits doing petty thefts and grown their numbers.
“Charge! Brothers-in-arms! Follow the Viscount!”
Meanwhile, the swordsmen charged without hesitation after their vanguard, Kyle. Soon, they clashed in the heart of the forest.
“Waaah!”
“Kill them! You bandit scum!”
The swordsmen numbered only about a third of the bandits, but their momentum didn’t falter in the slightest.
Former comrades from the same army colliding. The bandits recognized the elite swordsmen of Sarisa territory charging at them but felt no fear. There was no retreating now that things had come this far anyway.
But there was a bigger problem. The massive knight leading the charge. Though his face was hidden by his helmet, the vivid crest on his chest was unmistakable. The moment they saw him, they shrieked like banshees.
“It’s that Cligrove bastard!”
Whether veterans of the first or second war, anyone who had fought in even one recognized him from his armor and crest alone. The difference was that first-war survivors had seen him in the POW camps, while second-war ones had spotted him at the castle.
“Kaaak!”
“My arm!”
The screams of clashing swords and men felled by blades echoed through the forest. As Kyle plunged into the bandits and swung his sword wide, cries erupted from all directions. His blade, twice the length of the others’, kept the bandits from even approaching him just by its sweep.
And the swordsmen following in his wake slashed down bandits indiscriminately.
“You goddamn traitors!”
“So desperate for scraps you latch onto Cligrove, huh!”
The bandits cursed the swordsmen who came with Kyle. As if they had nothing better to eat and thus followed that Cligrove who’d reduced them to this—and elite swordsmen at that.
This sudden encounter in the woods turned into a chaotic brawl with no formations, just hacking at whatever enemy appeared. Neither side yielded an inch in the fierce melee. The bandits relied on numbers; the swordsmen on skill.
In the center of the battlefield, as Kyle cut down his eleventh bandit and more scars from weapons accumulated on his armor, he spotted a man overwhelming two swordsmen at once. He wore a thick great helm and a plain transitional coat. Their leader, no doubt.
‘That’s the boss.’
No sooner had he assessed the situation than his body reacted first. Kyle dashed through the chaotic fray and reached Esult in an instant, swinging his greatsword like thunder.
Claaang!
Esult’s two-hander shuddered in his grip. Blocking the monstrous swing head-on unleashed a deafening metallic roar across the field.
“Nngh!”
Esult’s knees buckled slightly as he braced his raised sword arm to hold it overhead. He scowled—he who had never been overpowered in strength since gaining his mystical power. Especially not in front of his men!
Kaang! Kang!
Both wielded two-handers, so their swordplay was remarkably similar. Relentless assaults using centrifugal force. With identical weapons and styles, the stronger and more agile fighter would naturally prevail—which was why Esult kept getting pushed back amid their endless exchanges.
“Huh? Wha—?”
As their trusted leader fell back, the bandits’ morale plummeted instantly. Any further retreat would be dangerous. Esult gritted his teeth, parried Kyle’s sword, and fell back.
“Huff... huff...”
Rough breaths rasped from within the heavy great helm. Even with his mystical enhancement, swinging a two-hander in heavy armor nonstop would tire anyone. And blocking Kyle’s greatsword had drained his stamina even faster.
“Cligrove... you damned bastards...!”
But he didn’t give up. He couldn’t—his fief was on the line. Esult raised his sword. The more desperate he grew, the redder his eyes glowed with the black heart’s power.
His body suddenly felt lighter, but Esult was nearly berserk now, consumed by the killing intent born of that mystical—no, cursed—power. His sword lashed out with ferocious momentum.
Kaang!
An impossibly faster, stronger strike from the man who’d just seemed exhausted. Kyle blocked it but grimaced at the foul aura emanating from Esult—like facing a magic beast.
With no room for other swordsmen or bandits to intervene, the two traded blows without respite. Sparks flew from clashing blades, their deadly duel of feints and counters raging dozens of times. But the black heart’s energy began to wane.
Slowing speed, fading power. Yet Esult, eyes rolled back, kept swinging blindly at Kyle. Until finally...
Tclang!
The sword slipped from Esult’s grasp—along with his arm.
“Gasp... gasp...”
Kyle’s blade had torn through the chainmail guarding his arm and severed it clean. Or rather, ripped it off. Esult dropped to his knees. Only after blood gushed freely did the black heart’s grip loosen enough for him to regain his senses.
He looked up at Kyle looming over him. And belatedly realized he’d been manipulated. That black heart—it had to be the source. The constant rage goading him had vanished.
“...Knight of Cligrove.”
Esult rasped Kyle’s way, gasping for breath. Freed from the curse only at death’s door, his mind was clear of the seething fury. That was when he grasped the black heart’s true danger. It wasn’t some mystical power—it was a curse.
He mouthed a warning even to the knight who’d slain him.
“The black heart... the black heart...”
His final words before death. But with life’s flame flickering out, he couldn’t finish.
“.....The black heart?”
The cryptic phrase from the dying bandit leader. But it wasn’t enough to put Kyle on alert. He just figured it was delirium.
Besides, with the bandits losing heart and surrendering or fleeing in all directions upon their leader’s death, the words “black heart” slipped from Kyle’s mind entirely.
Having splendidly wrapped up the subjugation, Kyle surveyed the swordsmen. Checking for any dead, but not a single one of these fine soldiers had fallen. Grinning at their sturdy ranks, he said,
“No one nearly died to mere bandits, right? Tend to the wounded and bind the captured thieves.”
The swordsmen burst into laughter at his words.
“Not many even got hurt.”
“Haha! This much’ll heal with a spit!”
The bandit purge ended successfully without a single casualty. After interrogating the surrendered bandits to find their hideout, Kyle smiled at the loot inside. These honest serfs hadn’t pocketed a thing—they’d stacked it all neatly.
“What a mess.”
In the study, processing the territory’s documents, Gringem sighed for the first time in his life. Though just a merchant, he could tell how utterly screwed the territory’s state was.
Tax records extracted from grilling the serfs were sloppy or nonexistent, and the soldiers listed on paper dwindled to less than half after Baron George’s re-investigation.
And the food stores and budget? The warehouses were gathering dust, while the territory folk barely scraped by. This a territory? It was laughable. Gringem sighed unfitly, knowing he had to report this to Kyle upon his return.
Just as he finished the paperwork, Cutter opened the door to the sigh-filled study.
“Mr. Gringem. Brother—er, the lord—has returned.”
The moment had come. Gringem neatly stacked his documents and left the manor. Dusk had fallen, cloaking the dim castle grounds. The gates swarmed with nobles and territory folk who’d heard of Kyle’s return.
Gringem hurried forward and bowed before Kyle.
“Congratulations on your safe return, my lord.”
“Gringem. Have you assessed the territory’s status?”
“Yes, but...”
Kyle smiled faintly at the looking-up Gringem and proudly gestured behind him.
“I brought a gift for all your hard work. That should cover the gaps, no?”
Following his hand, Gringem fell silent for a moment. Crates piled at the gates. Inside were the spoils Kyle had hauled back with the bandits, stacked meticulously.