Chapter 35
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 35
No one knew his past, nor did he seem to live with any thought of tomorrow. He was a man with neither a past nor a future. Thus, he had no name.
People called him the Nameless. When signing contracts, he simply wrote an 'X,' making him, in essence, nothing more than X.
Right now, he was like a solitary tiger crossing a snow-covered plain. Where was he headed, pushing through the harsh blizzard and into the pitch-black darkness?
Yet, two young boys followed the Nameless, like a pair of fearless little birds trailing a great tiger.
Swirling snow battered their faces, forcing them to hold their hoods down with one hand to keep them from blowing away. The tips of their noses quickly grew numb.
Boribori walked ahead of Rickert, holding a lantern that creaked incessantly in the wind.
Rickert kept his eyes glued to the Nameless, whose figure was so faint in the dark and snow that he looked as if he might disappear at any moment. The man surely knew they were following, yet he never once looked back.
One hour, then two—they kept walking through the midnight blizzard. It was an excruciating ordeal.
Compared to Boribori, who had learned to use the Mana Drive quite effectively, Rickert was struggling far more.
Having walked for over two hours, going back to the tavern was out of the question. Nor could they be sure if there was anywhere to rest ahead.
Even if there was, how much further would they have to walk? Should they keep going, or turn back now? They could truly end up stranded out here, unable to go either way, and die.
Then, the Nameless, walking ahead of them, collapsed limply into the snow.
"Huh?"
Rickert and Boribori rushed to his side. In the few moments it took to reach him, a thin sheet of snow had already covered his back. If they left him, he would be buried and freeze to death in no time.
Rickert grabbed his shoulders and tried to lift him, but the man was massive and clad in heavy armor, making him far too heavy to move.
"I'll carry him on my back," Boribori said, handing the lantern to Rickert.
After Rickert took the lantern, Boribori squeezed his eyes shut and grunted. He managed to raise the Nameless halfway before, with Rickert's help, he finally hoisted the man onto his back.
An immense weight pressed down on Boribori. He immediately began channeling the Mana Drive with all his might. Forcing himself to ignore the crushing strain, he focused his mind and asked, "Where do we go now?"
A good question. Rickert raised the lantern to illuminate their surroundings, but he couldn't see more than a few meters ahead. His vision was completely engulfed by pitch-black darkness and howling snow.
Whooooooosh…!
Even Rickert, with his sharp deductive reasoning, had no choice but to rely on pure luck. Or perhaps, a prayer to the gods.
Was it a mistake to follow him without a clear reason? No. If not for them, the man would have died. Whether it was a prank of fate or divine guidance, they had to keep moving forward.
Holding the lantern high, Rickert trudged through the snow. He didn't know where he was walking or where he was headed; the only light he could rely on was his own resolve.
Exhausted and worn out, every minute felt like ten years. They walked like that for another hour.
At first, countless random thoughts flooded Rickert's mind from sheer exhaustion, but eventually, his head went completely blank. His legs moved on instinct alone. Then, suddenly, he felt the blizzard weaken.
To be precise, they had entered a forest, where the trees broke the force of the wind and snow.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Rickert shone the lantern around. Surrendering to a gut feeling, he searched for a place where they could rest.
Then, almost miraculously, they came upon a natural shelter formed by an earthen overhang.
"Let's lay him down first," Rickert said.
Hearing this, Boribori—who had carried the heavy, fully armored man all this time without a single word of complaint—finally lowered the Nameless to the ground. Rickert grunted as he supported the man to keep him from falling face-first, carefully leaning him against the dirt wall.
The moment Boribori was free of the immense weight, he collapsed onto the ground, his limbs splayed out as he gasped heavily for air with his eyes squeezed shut.
Rickert hung the lantern on a root dangling from the overhang. Outside, the wind howled like a beast.
"Good job."
"Yeah…"
"Stay down. I'll build a fire."
Rickert rummaged through his bag, pulled out the tinder and flint he had prepared, and struck a flame. He gathered whatever stones he could find to construct a makeshift hearth, then collected relatively dry twigs to nurse the fire.
Though the delicate flame flickered as if it might die out at any second, it grew stronger as Rickert cupped his hands around it and blew gently. Once it reached a certain size, it blazed brightly on its own, like an adult finally standing on their own two feet.
By then, Boribori had sat up to warm himself by the fire. He took off his boots and gloves to dry the sweat, then pulled some food from his bag.
Once they had settled in, Rickert turned to look at the Nameless. Every piece of his gear—his helmet, his armor—seemed etched with the hardships he had endured.
"What should we do with him?" Boribori asked.
In winter, it was best practice to remove one's gloves and boots to dry them when resting. Moisture would build up from the temperature difference, causing hands and feet to swell and freeze if left unchecked.
"Let's get his armor off first and cover him with a cloak."
"Okay."
Like small birds clinging to a large beast to pick off its parasites, the two boys crowded around the Nameless to strip off his equipment. They removed his gloves and boots first, then pulled off his helmet—at which point Boribori gasped.
"Eek!"
His face was covered in horrific burn scars. So much flesh had melted away that it was likely the reason he struggled to breathe, explaining the constant wheezing, rasping sounds he made. It was unbelievable that someone in this condition could fight so fiercely, let alone overwhelmingly dominate multiple opponents.
As they carefully unbuckled his armor, they saw that his entire body was a mess of scars—from brands, scratches, stabs, and slashes.
Beneath them, messy, doodle-like words were tattooed into his skin. Strangely, the sentences were carved upside down. Pondering why, Rickert realized they weren't tattoos meant to be shown to others; they were meant for his own eyes.
Among the crookedly carved words, the largest inscription across his chest read:
Your wife was raped and killed, and your young son was torn limb from limb. Find your enemies and kill them all. You live for that single purpose alone. Do not forget it for even a single moment.
Rickert and Boribori were stunned into silence. Looking at it again, the jaggedly carved words seemed to burn like fire.
Pulling themselves together, they examined the other writings. They were all names, clues, physical descriptions, or regions of operation. Many of the names had X marks slashed through them with a blade—presumably, revenge had been served. His body was a grim, grudge-filled hit list.
One mark that appeared to be a relatively recent wound read: ‘Lily – Traitor.’ Was that the woman in the carriage? Rickert wondered.
And among the few names whose revenge was yet unfulfilled, one caught his eye:
Mad Dog Steiner
Rickert knew intuitively that this Steiner was the leader of the Ehrenberg Quintet and one of the Nine Swords of the Empire.
Meanwhile, Boribori's mouth formed a small 'O' as his wide eyes blinked rapidly. Never in his life had he seen a body so horrible, so gruesome, and so pitiful.
It seemed the more revenge he exacted, the more scars he accumulated, as if each act of vengeance carved away at his remaining lifespan. His body was a testament to this, holding nothing back.
Without even realizing it, Boribori pulled a towel from his bag, dampened it with the snow piled outside, and warmed it by the fire. Once it was sufficiently warm, he began to wipe down the Nameless's body, wiping over every bitter name, every vengeful word.
Meanwhile, Rickert roasted potatoes and sweet potatoes over the fire, pulling out jerky to prepare a quick meal.
After wiping him down, Boribori chewed up some herbs he had brought and slathered the paste onto a wound on the Nameless's forearm.
When he suddenly looked up, he found the Nameless awake, quietly looking down at him. His eyes were a pale blue, like the sky.
"Eek!"
Boribori gasped, throwing the towel aside as he tumbled onto his backside.
Rickert, who had been poking a skewered potato to check if it was cooked, flinched in shock. Turning to see what was wrong, he saw the Nameless was awake.
"Uh… hello? You collapsed on the road, so…"
Rickert greeted him as politely as he could, but the situation was awkward beyond belief. Leaning against the wall, the Nameless merely shifted his gaze between the two boys.
An awkward silence followed before Rickert spoke calmly.
"Um… we're actually planning to kill Leto and Erze from the Ehrenberg Quintet. If you're going after Steiner, mister, why don't we join forces for a bit?" he said, gesturing toward the tattoos with his eyes. Since their goals overlapped, he thought they could help each other.
However, the Nameless simply turned his head away and closed his eyes. It seemed he was going back to sleep, but the whole situation felt strange. It was impossible to tell whether he fell asleep so defenselessly because he underestimated them or because he trusted them. No matter how young they looked, they were still armed.
"H-he might not be able to talk," Boribori whispered. It could be true—his vocal cords might have been damaged when he was burned. "He looks a bit scary and gross, but I don't think he's a bad mister."
"Bori, even if he can't speak, he can probably still hear you."
"Huh? R-really?" Realizing his mistake, Boribori turned back to look at the Nameless, but the man remained motionless, his head turned away. "What do I do? S-should I apologize?"
"It's fine. Just cover him with a cloak. You can share mine."
"Uh, okay."
Boribori took off his own cloak, quietly approached the Nameless, and draped it over him, tucking him in neatly. The man stayed still.
Boribori went back to sit next to Rickert, sharing his friend's cloak as they ate their meal.
"He must be hungry…" Boribori murmured, glancing repeatedly toward the Nameless. But the man offered no response.
After finishing their meal, Rickert and Boribori spent the night taking turns on watch, less to guard against attacks and more to keep the fire alive.
Thus, the strange, awkward, and somewhat frightening night deepened. The blizzard raged outside all night long.
Whooooooosh…!
At dawn the next day, the two boys were asleep, huddled close under a single cloak.
Whether he had actually slept or not, the Nameless quietly rose and strapped his gear back on. Leaving behind the cloak he had unwittingly borrowed, he was about to depart when Rickert, whom he had assumed was asleep, spoke up.
"What happens if you die before completing your revenge?"
"…"
"Take a good look at yourself. Are you really doing this for revenge, or are you just punishing yourself? You look like you're on the verge of collapsing at any moment."
Wearing his signature full-face helmet, the Nameless glanced back at Rickert before simply walking away.
"Bori. Bori, wake up."
"...Huh? Uh…"
"The mister left. Let's follow him."
"Huh? Ah, right. Wait, he really left? Let me get my stuff."
Rickert and Boribori quickly packed their things, smothered the dying embers with their boots, and hit the trail.
The blizzard that had howled like a mournful beast through the night had finally subsided. But as it was still dawn, the world remained bathed in darkness. Emerging from the forest, Rickert and Boribori followed the faint, dark silhouette moving ahead of them.
As time passed, the sky gradually brightened, and the sun began its ascent above the distant horizon. A magnificent light spread across the snow-covered field, blindingly bright.
Following the path carved out by the Nameless, the two boys walked, occasionally fooling around with each other. They looked like two playful tiger cubs trailing their father.
The sun rose higher and higher.