There Is Still Hope (2)
Berserk—or rather, the Warrior class—was the most free-spirited and straightforward character in the original Legend of Heroes.
While every other class built its story around growth, anguish, and wandering, this one alone lived a full YOLO life doing whatever it pleased. That alone said everything.
But yeah. Living too much of a YOLO life had its problems too.
Just looking at the name Berserk made it obvious—that class was ridiculously battle-hungry. When their personal story kicked off, the line they shouted was even, “I want to fight every strong person in the world!”
Calling it free-spirited was putting it nicely. In reality, they were pure fight maniacs.
“Fighting! Flowing sweat, hot blood! How delightful!”
I put steel into my voice at that. In truth I was closer to exhausted than irritated, but for the concept it was about time for anger to start boiling over.
“Or could it be that you’re scared?”
And for someone who lived on pride alone with zero self-esteem, that kind of provocation could not be ignored. I finally opened my mouth.
“As if a barbarian who doesn’t have manners even to the dirt under his fingernails could scare me.”
“Then why won’t you stand?”
“I have no intention of lowering myself to your savagery.”
Throwing down right here might have fit better, but crushing her with words alone didn’t break character either.
Besides—it had only been a little over two weeks since the seal went on my arm. Getting so angry I brawled with a civilian—someone with zero connection to demons—would look weird even for me.
And Berserk was a lose-lose. If I won, she’d keep pestering me to fight until she beat me. If I lost, the defeat itself wouldn’t match my name.
“So you were a coward after all.”
But this “you chicken?” routine had gone way too far. Concept or not, as a Korean I could not let that slide.
“Endure it.”
Maybe it was the grinding of my teeth. The Archmage hurriedly grabbed my left arm. His expression had gone rather stiff—he must have been startled by how close things had come.
The Inquisitor, seated to my right at the round table, followed the Archmage’s lead and reached out as well. She avoided actually touching my right arm, knowing I hated that, but her intent to stop me was clear.
“Demon Knight.”
I had been given more than enough justification. I relaxed my body while looking at Berserk’s disappointed face.
The tense party members sighed in relief. Berserk’s expression sank even further.
“I thought I’d finally found a strong one after so long… and it ends like this.”
Berserk let out a heavy breath and walked off toward an empty table.
“Innkeeper! Bring me what I ordered earlier!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
The follow-up order soothed the innkeeper, who had been fretting that a fight might break out inside the shop.
“Well, looks like the storm’s passed.”
Only then did Dev find his voice again.
“It was so bloodthirsty I thought I was gonna die.”
Thinking of him holding his breath through the entire staring contest between me and Berserk made me feel a little sorry.
“She is a rude one. To force her own opinion when she isn’t even seeking anything—that is not right.”
The Inquisitor, by contrast, spoke without filter. Even if a fight had broken out she could have handled herself, so her bluntness was nothing strange.
Dev shot her a faintly envious glance.
“The world has people like that. Still, the fact that she backed off is fortunate. Some refuse even a rejection and force a fight anyway.”
“That! Starting a fight one-sidedly—such a thing must never be tolerated.”
Starting a fight one-sidedly… I recalled my first meeting with the Inquisitor and quickly waved the thought away.
“In any case, the important thing is that we did not play along. You held yourself well. From now on… I ask the same of you.”
“If she keeps hanging around and picks another fight it’ll be a pain, so how about we leave? We’ve finished eating anyway.”
Whatever else, I wanted to get out of this place as Dev suggested.
Judging from the script I vaguely remembered, Berserk wouldn’t approach us again here—but you never know.
Leaving now would also erase any chance of her joining the party.
“That sounds good.”
“I’ve just finished as well. Let us depart.”
Fortunately neither the Archmage nor the Inquisitor opposed the idea. We hurriedly left the restaurant, then the village.
“Hope we never run into her again.”
…And at the very end Dev planted a flag. All I could do was pray it wouldn’t apply.
“So this is Far Enoch…”
We switched from horses to camels and rode for several more days. At the end of that journey we finally reached the city that held Ainoxar—Far Enoch.
“Being the front line and all, the inspection’s ridiculously strict.”
Dev’s grumbling wasn’t baseless.
Unlike other cities where entry took a minute, Far Enoch made us wait nearly ten minutes—under the blazing sun, no less.
Even that was better than ordinary people—they apparently averaged three hours—but for someone used to free passes, “strict” was the only word that fit.
“If demon worshipers slipped in and caused a ruckus it would be troublesome, after all.”
“Even with all that, the ones who want to get in still get in.”
“Better than not checking at all, isn’t it?”
That much was true.
I agreed with the Archmage and surveyed Far Enoch’s scenery.
True to a desert city, houses of packed earth clustered tightly together, and the roads were narrower than in ordinary towns. It didn’t seem they were narrow from lack of space so much as deliberately built that way so cloths could be stretched overhead for shade.
“Whoa, finally shade!”
The happiest about that was Dev.
The Inquisitor had her armor. The Archmage had temperature-regulating enchantments on his clothes. For some reason I barely felt the heat at all.
Which left Dev alone dying under the desert sun.
“It’s better here at least.”
To me the temperature felt about the same as Zakrati or Montata Island. Maybe it was just the lack of shade and wind.
“What a weakling.”
“Says the guy surviving on gear.”
“The Demon Knight is wearing four layers.”
“That guy is…!”
Well.
“…Comparing anyone to milord is just unfair.”
I barely held back a snort of laughter and walked on. The cloak and hood I’d been forced to wear for various reasons weren’t making me hot, but I desperately wanted them off.
Everyone had begged me to put them on, so I’d had no choice—but they ruined the style!
“Temple first, whether Ainoxar or anything else.”
“The temple’s that way.”
We ignored every tout near the gates and followed Dev’s pointing finger.
The Archmage knew plenty, but in places like this no one beat Dev.
“The temple is this far inside… This place must be bigger than Somon.”
“It’s the central axis of the southern front. It has to be large.”
“…Ah, so it didn’t get big because of the colosseum?”
“Correct. The colosseum is merely a byproduct that appeared while this place was already serving as the hub.”
At the Archmage’s explanation the Inquisitor blinked. She understood the words, yet still looked unconvinced.
I, who knew even less than she did, was just as curious.
The Archmage had said the place was safer than expected precisely because they had the leisure to maintain a colosseum… I had been wondering just how much spare strength that required.
“You don’t even know that? The colosseum is basically bait.”
Dev piled on. The hint was vague—half clear, half not.
“Bait to keep strong fighters stuck on the southern front.”
“…I still don’t really get what that means.”
“Ah, so basically…”
While Dev was about to lecture the Inquisitor, the Archmage quietly drifted over to my side.
“How is your body?”
The question that followed was one I’d heard once a day ever since we neared Far Enoch. For the last two days it had become morning, noon, and night.
“I already answered that this morning.”
There was a limit to how much I would suppress the concept’s temper for the situation.
Hearing it this often, the concept itself would no longer hold back. My temper was already scraped raw from reporting every morning and night whether the seal was functioning or broken.
I answered with my face twisted accordingly, and the Archmage retreated. He would ask again come evening.
I understood the concern, but even the real me was starting to get sick of it.
Crash!
Meanwhile—did this city have a rule allowing fights on the main street? No halfway decent city would.
I reflexively raised a hand to stop the Archmage and Dev from advancing. The Inquisitor moved next.
Thud!
The moment she stepped to the front and raised her shield, stone dust rained down.
“Wh-what was that?!”
Luckily the Inquisitor had stood slightly off to the side. Through the clear view I grasped the situation more precisely.
Barely five meters away, a Middle swordsman who had smashed through the cloth canopy lay sprawled on the ground.
And the one who had put him there…
“Already down?!”
…was probably the dark-skinned Middle who had just leapt from a rooftop onto the avenue.
For a second I almost mistook him for Berserk and nearly jumped.
“Fighting on the main thoroughfare!”
The Inquisitor, however, focused on a different point. True to her principles, she pointed out the breach of order and rules.
Given the growing number of bystanders getting caught in the fight, her reaction wasn’t oversensitive. Once innocent victims appeared, the fighters were criminals, pure and simple.
“Whoa. I’d heard Far Enoch’s public safety wasn’t great, but starting off this spicy? Open street fights aren’t something you see every day.”
“Is the guard not coming?”
The Archmage looked for the authorities, showing no desire to intervene.
“With how many incidents they get, I heard the guards are pretty quick. They should be on their way by now.”
Dev was right. Amid the thick press of people it was a little hard to tell, but I could sense a group running from farther down the street. Probably the guards.
But the fight was already almost over… would it even matter?
“Hey. Fighting on the main road is forbidden.”
At that moment someone strolled into the middle of the brawl. A man with reddish-brown hair sticking out in every direction like a lion’s mane.
“It’s Red Mane!”
“Kankan!!”
“Please take care of that rotten bastard!”
I got a strong impression from him.
I couldn’t gauge exact martial-arts levels the way a wuxia master might, but extraordinary people still looked special even to ordinary eyes. This man was exactly that.
“Kankan?”
“A pretty popular warrior in Ainoxar. Not on the champion’s level, but pure popularity-wise he’s top ten.”
“I see…”
Red Mane Kankan casually approached the dark-skinned Middle. The man’s face twisted.
“Ha! Why should I listen to you?!”
Brave words, but a poor choice.
“Because if you don’t, this happens.”
In an instant Kankan’s body shot forward and seized the Middle’s face. The man still seemed not to understand the situation even after his head was grabbed.
But life does not flow considerately for everyone.
Bang!
Kankan’s hand slammed the man’s head straight into the ground. The earth cratered, half-burying the skull. It looked painful.
He might even be dead.
“Uuugh.”
“Honestly, what a nuisance.”
Still, he seemed to have kept his life. Anyone who could groan was still breathing.
“Take him away already.”
“Ah, thank you for the help, Lord Red Mane!”
“I just came out for a snack and this happens.”
As Kankan stepped back, the guards who had finally arrived cleaned up the scene.
Finding victims for testimony, arresting the fighters, even neatly collecting the collapsed canopy—they worked like people who had done this more than once or twice.
In a blink the street was restored.
“…He’s strong.”
Meanwhile the Inquisitor offered a quiet assessment. She clearly wasn’t talking about the guards, so it had to be about Kankan.
It wasn’t that she herself couldn’t do something similar; she simply seemed surprised that someone outside our group had pulled it off. Until now, people capable of that had only been us.
“And someone that skilled isn’t even the champion.”
Truthfully that part surprised me too.
They hadn’t shown a single fighter this strong so far, yet the moment we changed regions they dropped one right in front of us.
It lived up to the name “front line,” yet it also made me a little tense. I wondered if I was starting to fall behind.
“If even a non-champion is that strong, I look forward to seeing how strong the champion is.”
Still, it probably hadn’t climbed high enough to become painful yet. I had levels stacked up, after all. Yeah.
“A warrior aiming for Ainoxar?”
Just then someone casually struck up conversation. Red Mane Kankan, who had finished subduing the reckless youth and was about to go on his way.
An earring glinted on only one ear amid his wild hair.
“Faces I don’t recognize. First time here?”
He looked rather tired—like an office worker who had finally gotten a day off and was dragging himself out to buy snacks—and gave us a once-over.
First the Inquisitor at the front, then the tall and conspicuous Archmage, then Dev panting from the heat, and finally me.
When his eyes met mine, though, his expression seemed to harden a little… I had no idea why. Surely he couldn’t sense demon energy too.
“Well… yeah. Do your best. But don’t push yourselves too hard. You look pretty young, and this place has plenty of guys who don’t go easy even on kids. I’m not looking down on you—just think about the future and take it slow.”
The atmosphere stayed friendly enough that I didn’t need to worry. Offering kind advice to strangers on first meeting suggested a decent personality too.
“And lastly… don’t meet the Martial King.”
Had seemed decent, anyway.
“Pardon?”
“If at all possible, never. You can’t even meet him outside the colosseum anyway, but still.”
“What do you mean by—”
“I’m going.”
Had he approached just to deliver that one warning? If you’re going to warn someone, at least give a reason that makes sense.
“Wait, at least tell us what that—”
“Hope for good results.”
The Archmage tried to hold him until the end, but Kankan slipped away like a cat that hated being touched.
It wasn’t quite a disaster—no real harm done—and it wasn’t quite help either. Just a strangely ambiguous encounter that ended there.