Chapter 36
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 36
Following the Nameless, Rickert and Boribori arrived in a small city called Magdestadt. Though modest in size, it was a place steeped in history.
The city was filled with buildings constructed in a distant past. Despite being historic relics, the locals still put them to practical use, creating an effortless, antique charm that permeated the streets.
Yet, in stark contrast to the city's old-world beauty, worry was etched deep into the faces of its citizens. Life here seemed just as hard and meager as anywhere else.
A scrawny dog wandered past, its nose pressed to the cobblestones. Catching the scent of food from Rickert’s pack, it lifted its head and stared, its tail giving a few weak wags. The sight tugged at his heart, but with people starving all around, he couldn’t afford to give food to a dog.
Rickert and Boribori faced another, more serious problem: Magdestadt fell squarely within the territory of the Brabant Adventurers' Guild.
Fundamentally, all adventurers' guilds were rivals. The competition between those with overlapping territories was particularly bloody. Considering the vicious skirmishes they had fought against the Rubens Guild, this was hardly a safe place for them to linger.
Yet the place the Nameless was heading was none other than the local branch of the Brabant Adventurers' Guild. Armed adventurers milled about the building’s perimeter as a matter of course.
Rickert wasn't particularly afraid, but the need to hide his identity made him uneasy.
Well, it’s not like I have ‘Beringen Adventurers’ Guild Academy Student’ stamped on my forehead, he thought. As long as I keep my mouth shut, it should be fine.
However, as the Nameless entered the building and Rickert and Boribori tried to follow, someone stepped forward to block their path.
“Who the hell are you kids?”
The man scanned their appearances. They looked young, yet they carried weapons, which clearly struck him as odd.
“Uh… the mister who just went in is our dad. Right, big bro?”
Boribori lied with such a straight face that Rickert stared at him, wide-eyed. Besides, Boribori was two years older than Rickert, yet he was calling him ‘big bro.’ Not that it mattered much, since they looked roughly the same age anyway.
The man tilted his head in doubt but seemed to conclude that the boys carried arms to assist their father. He stepped aside without another word.
And so, Rickert and Boribori brazenly walked into what was, in a sense, the heart of enemy territory.
Inside, the Nameless placed two severed heads on a table and waited to collect his reward. It seemed that, revenge aside, bounty hunting was how he made his living.
An adventurer inspected the heads, checking their features, before quickly shoving the gruesome trophies aside and handing over a slip of paper that served as a receipt.
Rickert and Boribori leaned in to look. Sure enough, the Nameless’s signature was a simple ‘X’.
Even seeing it, the adventurer failed to recognize him. He no doubt thought it impossible that Nameless X, one of the Nine Swords of the Empire, would casually appear in the middle of his quiet daily routine. After all, most people in the world were illiterate, signing documents with a dot, a circle, or an X. It wasn't a mark unique to the Nameless.
Furthermore, in an era without widespread media, even someone who had heard his legendary name a thousand times might fail to recognize him standing right in front of them.
“Do you want gold coins? Or a mix of silver and copper?”
Gold coins were high-value currency rarely used outside of large merchant transactions, but converting everything to silver and copper meant carrying a considerable weight. Hence the question.
The Nameless, however, offered no reply. Wearing the signature full-face helmet that completely concealed his head, he simply stared at the adventurer in silence.
“…”
“Instead of money, we’d like some first-aid supplies, travel rations, a whetstone, flint, and firewood,” Rickert spoke up from his side.
The adventurer shot Rickert a ‘who is this kid now?’ look, his eyes shifting between him and the Nameless. When the silent warrior offered no objection, he simply nodded.
“You know food is worth its weight in gold during winter, right?”
“I’m sure you’ll give us a fair deal,” Rickert replied boldly. “If you want to keep doing good business in the future, that is.”
At that, the adventurer chuckled. He wrapped up high-quality ham, cheese, jerky, hardtack, and liquor in paper and handed them over. Being an adventurers’ guild, they were always well-stocked with travel supplies.
Seeing Rickert take goods instead of coin, the Nameless trudged over to a wall plastered haphazardly with wanted posters. He scanned them briefly before ripping one off at random.
“Hey! You can’t just tear those—”
“Keep the change,” Rickert said, speaking as if that covered the cost of the poster. He quickly followed the Nameless out of the building.
Having arrived in a city, any normal person would stop by an inn to bathe in warm water and rest comfortably, but the Nameless departed immediately, as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. It was as if time were too precious to waste—or as if he didn’t have much time left to live.
With an injured, aching body that he never showed to anyone, the tiger walked solely for the sake of revenge.
As Rickert and Boribori followed, they noticed the distance between them and the Nameless had grown shorter than before.
“By the way, mister hasn’t eaten a thing since yesterday, has he?” Boribori asked Rickert, who nodded in response.
At that, Boribori pulled some of the newly acquired food from his pack and ran up to the Nameless.
“Uh… you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday…”
The Nameless reached out, snatched a chunk of meat, and stuffed it under the cloth covering the lower half of his face, munching on it noisily. That must be incredibly salty.
He neutralized the saltiness by gulping down strong liquor, emptying the bottle in a single breath before tossing it aside.
“…You don’t have to eat so fast…”
The Nameless ate so much and so quickly that one might worry for his health. Seeing that he didn’t refuse the food, Rickert stepped closer and spoke.
“So, who’s the next target? Is it the person on that wanted poster?”
The Nameless glanced at Rickert, then turned his head away, ignoring him. Whether it was because he didn’t trust them or because he preferred to handle things alone, there was no way to know.
Not long after they left the city, however, they realized people were tailing them.
The figures maintained a distance just at the edge of sight. It was impossible to tell if they were simply heading the same way or had some ulterior motive.
But Rickert knew instantly. They’ve been following us since we left the guild. He remembered catching a glimpse of their attire back then. This was why it was always better to stay at least one night after visiting a city. Leaving town immediately after cashing in a bounty was as good as advertising to the world, ‘I just made a fortune.’
Like hungry wolves, the pursuers watched for an opportunity. With every step, their intent grew clearer: they were after money, food, or both.
Suddenly, the Nameless nudged Rickert gently. Pointing in a direction, he shooed him away with a flick of his hand.
Only then did Rickert realize. Ah, he’s worried about us.
Rickert smiled faintly and tapped the sword slung over his shoulder.
“We aren’t that naive. We didn’t set out on this path blindly trusting in our weapons. I told you, didn’t I? We’re on our way to kill Leto the Experimenter and Erze the Skin Collector.”
“…”
The Nameless merely looked down at Rickert in silence.
Just then, having taken a detour, the pursuers emerged from ahead, blocking their path. There were over ten of them. None were heavily armored like the Nameless, but they carried an assortment of spears, hook spears, swords, and clubs.
They weren’t adventurers; their equipment was too crude. But they were a clear step above common street thugs. They looked less like a professional fighting unit and more like men who occasionally robbed travelers—not full-time bandits, but certainly seasoned in the act.
Halting at a distance, one of them shouted.
“Hey! Drop your weapons and we’ll let you live! You can count, right?! There are three of you and fifteen of us!”
In this world, there was no lie more ridiculous than a robber promising to spare you if you laid down your arms.
The Nameless glanced quietly at Rickert and Boribori before turning his gaze back to the thugs. He drew a throwing axe from a harness across his chest.
Then, without a word of warning, he hurled it.
Whoosh!
The heavy hatchet flew with a terrifying whistle—fast and precise. The Nameless was the type to fight with raw power and accuracy rather than flashy techniques.
Because of the distance, the man in front panicked and fell backward, dodging it by sheer luck.
“Eek!”
Whoosh! Thwack!
He couldn’t dodge the second axe. It slammed into his head, snapping it violently backward.
The Nameless pulled a rope from his waist and began twirling it overhead as he advanced. A grappling hook was attached to its end. Only then did the thugs raise their weapons.
“Tony!”
“You motherfucker! You want to do this the hard way?!”
The Nameless hurled the rope at the man who yelled. The thug raised his spear in an awkward attempt to parry, but a grappling hook wasn't something you could simply block; it had to be dodged. The rope snagged on the spear shaft, using it as a fulcrum to whip around and coil tightly about his neck. The hook dug deep into his collarbone.
“AAAAARGH!”
With monstrous strength, the Nameless dragged the grown man toward him like a sack of grain. As the situation escalated, the rest finally charged with their weapons raised.
“Fuck! Kill them!”
“You bastards!”
Rickert didn’t quite understand why they were the bastards when they had just been minding their own business, but in a fight for survival, there was no point arguing semantics.
The Nameless drew his battleaxe and split the skull of the man he had dragged in. Just as he turned to face the next attackers, someone yelled.
“Target the kids!”
Only then did Rickert unsling the sword from his shoulder and draw it from its scabbard. The blade, etched with subtle wave-like patterns, gleamed under the cold winter sun.
Walking forward nonchalantly, Rickert sidestepped an enemy who couldn’t even gauge the distance properly and sliced deep across the man’s waist. Instantly swerving left, he swept his blade back the other way to cut down the next foe. Without taking a single step back, he pressed relentlessly forward. Warm blood sprayed across the cold ground, melting precise crimson holes into the white snow.
The next enemy lunged with a spear. Rickert neatly twisted his body to dodge, deflecting the shaft with his sword. He smashed his shoulder into the man’s chest, throwing him off balance, and cleaved his head open with a swift downward strike as he fell.
Thwack!
Meanwhile, another assailant thrust a sword at Rickert’s left flank. Rickert twisted to dodge the tip, but their bodies collided. In that split second, he drove a dagger from his left hand diagonally up into the man’s abdomen. Viscera spilled out in a messy heap. Rickert hastily stepped back, as if terrified of getting any on his clothes.
While Rickert dispatched four men in the blink of an eye, an enemy charged at Boribori.
Boribori drew his side sword, holding it in one hand. He stood in a relaxed stance with his head bowed, muttering quietly to himself. Just as the enemy’s hatchet reached his face, he looked up and swung.
Swish, swish! Whoosh!
Thud. Splat.
Two objects dropped into the snow. The enemy thought he had struck Boribori clean, but he hadn’t. Both of his wrists were gone. A spray of blood from the severed stumps showered Boribori as dark afterimages of the blade flickered before the man’s eyes.
“Uh…?”
Before pain could register or the fatal reality set in, the man seemed unable to comprehend what had happened. It was small wonder, given that both his hands had vanished in an instant.
But Boribori’s lightning-fast blade didn’t stop. With a final, precise horizontal slash—whoosh!—the man’s head tumbled off.
The dismembered parts of a single body lay scattered across the snow—at least five pieces, including the limbs. It was a thoroughly gruesome sight.
Having finished off his own share of enemies, Rickert strode over. He stared at the chopped-up body parts before Boribori and spoke.
“Isn’t that a bit excessive?”
To Rickert, who favored brief, concise strikes that finished the job in a single blow, Boribori’s work was definitely over the top.
“I have to write the letters, though…”
“Fair point. Still, pretty good for a first try.”
“Hehehe.”
As Boribori gave a shy laugh, the Nameless walked over. On his way, he glanced at the corpses Rickert had left behind before stopping before the two boys. He stared down at the heavily dismembered body Boribori had created.
Rickert said to him, “What do you think? We’re pretty useful, aren’t we?”
The Nameless seemed to ponder this for a moment before finally letting out a sound.
“Hmm.”