Chapter 10
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Walking Corpse
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Walking Corpse
The downpour grew heavier. The ground turned to muck, pulling at their feet. Each step became a burden.
“Damn it! We never should’ve taken this job. No wonder the pay was so good… to think devils were involved. My god… O, Sun God.”
The weasel, uncharacteristically invoking the Sun God, kept muttering curses. It was hard to tell if he was praying or cursing the divine, but either way, it didn't seem very helpful.
“...You're strangely calm.”
John said, offering his flask. I shook my head in response. Alcohol slows your hands, even for a split second. Thirst was better for now.
*I suppose so.*
As John said, I wasn't agitated like the other mercenaries.
In any case, we had a knight on our side. Even against a devil, as long as we had the sword of humanity, we weren't without a chance.
And sadly, if there was even a sliver of a chance, I always survived.
The power of a devil varied wildly, proportional to the sacrifice offered. They ranged from insects weaker than a grown man to demons that could swallow cities and topple kingdoms. Truly, a diverse bunch.
But this was a village of eighty people, at most.
“I doubt anything will happen. Besides, the ones who did this might not even come back.”
“That’s true. Better to be carefree than to be consumed by fear. Don't they say devils feed on human fear?”
I gave a bitter smile at John's question. It was one of the many rumors about devils. But devils don't feed on fear.
[A…ron.]
Devils feed on despair.
They prefer despair that has been aged until it gives off a truly foul and wicked stench.
“Aren’t you guys going to have any stew? The other mercenaries are raving about how good it is.”
John asked, gesturing to the crowd of men huddled together.
“Ugh… How can anyone eat after seeing something so gruesome? I feel like I’m about to bring up what I ate earlier.”
The weasel grimaced and mimed vomiting.
I didn’t have much of an appetite for dinner either.
The foul, fishy smell of that goddamn bread I’d eaten earlier still lingered, killing any desire for food.
“If you want to live a long life, you should eat when you can. We never know what’s going to happen to us, do we?”
John muttered, pulling a tough-looking piece of bread from his tunic and taking a large bite.
“Then why are you eating that hard bread instead of the delicious stew, John?”
“I never eat food given to me by others. You never know what might happen.”
Tearing off a piece of bread like a wild animal, John chewed it thoroughly. Then he held his hand out, caught some rainwater, and brought it to his lips.
“Ugh… To think we have to spend the night here. I’m so anxious, I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep…”
The weasel continued to whine.
The young lady and the knight had gone into the largest house in the village. It must have been the village chief's residence, as it was a sizable brick building, unlike the other houses.
In front of it, a woman in a maid's uniform was ladling out stew from a large pot. A crowd of people swarmed around the pot.
It seemed even the horrific scene from before wasn't enough to spoil their appetites. Then again, these were medieval folk who would bring bread to chew on while watching a public execution in the town square.
“But isn’t that young lady just gorgeous? Wow, I’ve never seen such a beautiful woman in my life. Ow! Why’d you hit me! Ow! Seriously…”
As if he’d lost his mind, the weasel started talking about the noblewoman, and I quickly smacked him. He grumbled, so I hit him again, and he promptly shut up. A single fist was indeed more effective than ten words.
“It's best not to even mention nobles.”
“...I know, but there’s some distance, isn't there? And the rain is loud.”
“Regardless, keep it to yourself. No, don’t even think it.”
When John spoke firmly, the weasel mumbled and closed his mouth.
The sound of the rain once again filled the air.
I drew my sword from its scabbard to check its condition.
The cool touch of the blade was more calming to me than any sedative.
***
*Are these bastards crazy?*
The weasel… no, Dylan, cursed inwardly as he watched the mercenaries dozing off next to him.
To be sleeping in a situation where a devil could appear at any moment! They must have had nerves of steel. What’s more, there were three of them on watch, and the other two besides Dylan were both asleep.
*Slackers like them deserve to get what’s coming to them.*
He wanted to punch them in the back of the head, but unfortunately, the mercenaries were bigger than him. One punch would surely be returned with words he didn't want to hear.
Having recently learned the profound importance of knowing his place, Dylan found it easy to restrain himself.
Instead, Dylan shifted his gaze to the soldier standing in front of the building where the noblewoman was staying. The rain was coming down hard; he'd be soaked to the bone if he crossed over.
Dylan weighed getting those bastards in trouble against getting completely drenched.
*Snore. Whoosh.*
The loud snores from beside him made up his mind. It was definitely worth getting soaked to see these guys get screwed.
Dylan sprinted toward the house across the way. The rain instantly chilled his body.
*You guys are so screwed now.*
He found himself humming at the thought of the punishment those lazy oafs would receive.
Two soldiers stood guard, holding spears. How should he phrase it to make them as angry as possible? Dylan considered this seriously as he approached them.
“Excuse me, soldiers… We’re on watch right now, and it’s a three-man team, right? So I was keeping my eyes peeled, worried something awful might happen, when all of a sudden, I hear snoring next to me!”
*Snore.*
“That’s right! It was a bit quieter than that, but similar… Huh?”
Dylan noticed something was off and tilted his head to peer under the soldier's helmet.
The soldier, his cheeks covered in nasty pimples, was leaning against the wall, still holding his spear, but his eyes were closed. He was even drooling.
*You've got to be kidding me! Even the soldiers… They must have a death wish!*
A surge of anger flared up inside him. Here he was, so scared of the devil that he was cutting back on his blinking just to save time for watching, while everyone else, soldier and mercenary alike, was sleeping…
*Everyone is sleeping? Even the soldiers guarding a noble?*
Only then did Dylan realize how strange this was. Unless they had multiple lives to spare, no one would fall asleep while protecting a noble. Especially not in a situation where a devil could appear at any moment. It made no sense for them to be sleeping unless they were insane.
*Crrrk.*
Just then, a sound cut through the rain.
It was faint, but the malice contained within that tiny sound sent a chill down Dylan's spine.
He slowly turned his head, which felt as heavy as if it were weighted with lead.
Had he not heard it because of the rain?
Dozens of somethings were approaching.
In the darkness, the figures coming toward him with their arms outstretched had human forms, but they were completely devoid of life, exuding an indescribable, ominous aura.
*…Devils!!!*
Dylan punched himself in the mouth to stop the scream from escaping. Blood trickled from his lips, but he was in no state to care.
He desperately scanned for an escape route, but the dozens of figures were closing in like a tight net. Dylan was trapped, a fish in a closing net.
In this moment of life and death, Dylan instinctively thought of that devil of a bastard.
That brutish bastard whose fists flew before his words.
But he was also the strongest bastard here.
“Bossssssssss!!”
Dylan bolted for the building where the mercenaries were staying.
***
There was no way I could sleep in a situation like this.
I sat closest to the door, holding my sword in my lap, and took out the book I had picked up earlier.
The book was about a certain knight.
The noble knight helped those in need, fought against devils, and eventually became a hero, praised by all.
It was a typical hero's tale. The protagonist's name sounded familiar, so it was likely propaganda distributed by some high-ranking family.
The empty spaces in the book were filled with crooked handwriting. Though it was a shoddy novel, the child had been completely engrossed in the story, seemingly idolizing the knight.
In a section where the knight faced hardship, the crooked letters spelled out ‘You can do it!’
Then, in the middle.
[I met the mister today. Jones’s gang was bullying me, but the mister threw a punch and beat them all up! Jones cried so loud, it was embarrassing even for me. What a show-off, that Jones!]
*I suppose I did hit him a bit too hard.*
I smiled bitterly and turned the page.
[Yesterday, I saw the mister beat up Hans, the village troublemaker. Hans was the strongest guy in the village, but he couldn't even lay a finger on the mister and got beaten to a pulp. The mister is the strongest person I've ever seen. Could he be a knight? I asked Mom, but she just got mad and told me to stop talking nonsense and bring more straw to spread on the floor.]
[Reading and writing is so much fun.]
[I told the mister how much I love to read, and he told me about a job called a librarian. He said far away, in a place called the city, there’s a place filled with all the books in the world! My goodness!]
The next part was torn out, as if someone had ripped it away. After that, only one last page remained.
[I told Father I wanted to be a librarian, and he beat me for a long time. He was so angry he tore up my book and threw it away. It was my favorite part…]
[Father came home drunk and held me while he cried for a long time. He said we all have invisible leashes on, and that we can never escape them. He cried for a long time, saying he was sorry. They were such difficult words, I didn't know what he meant, but I cried along with him.]
…A leash.
He was right.
Not just the village peasants, but me, the mercenaries, the nobles—we all wore invisible leashes.
*Guhhh…*
At the faint sound, I habitually drew my sword and thrust. An unpleasant sensation traveled up the hilt.
Blood flowed down the blade and touched my hand. It wasn't hot, but cold. As cold as ice. This was not human.
As I pulled the sword back, my opponent was dragged closer. Despite the fatal wound, the creature showed its hostility, its mouth gaping wide. The cool moonlight filtering through the crack in the door revealed its face. Gray eyes, a bluish-green face with chunks of flesh missing, and an aura of ominous malevolence.
*A walking corpse.*
A zombie. I pulled my sword from its body and swung at its neck. Cold, black blood splattered onto me.
The blade met resistance from bone, so I slammed the pommel with my fist. *Crack.* With a sickening sound, the head came off.
I kicked the severed zombie head. It rolled across the floor and bumped into a sleeping mercenary, but the man didn't wake up.
I smacked the mercenary next to him across the face with the flat of my blade. I hit him hard enough to make a loud noise, but he still didn't stir.
His chest was rising and falling, so he was alive. The fact that he wouldn't wake up meant this was more than just a deep sleep.
“Bossssssssss!!”
The weasel, his face a mess of tears, burst into the house.
“Out… outside, there are strange things… The soldiers are all asleep too… Eeeeeek!!!”
The weasel, who had been stammering, saw the headless corpse at his feet, screamed, and jumped back.
*Even the soldiers… Was it a drug? When?*
I quickly retraced the events. The weasel and I were fine… They must have put something in the stew we had for dinner. They wouldn't have added a drug just to help the tired soldiers sleep soundly, which meant there was an enemy within.
*This makes it seem like that shitty fish bread saved my life.*
The thought left a bad taste in my mouth. I flicked my sword to shake off the blood, then stepped outside.
The rain was pouring down, and a horde of zombies was closing in. It was a scene straight out of a B-grade zombie movie.
*They used a sleeping drug, not poison. Looks like they need them alive.*
My thoughts continued, one after another. Who did they need alive? They wouldn't go to all this trouble just for soldiers or mercenaries, so it had to be one of two people: the black knight or the young lady.
*The young lady.*
Even if they were engaged, it was strange to assign such a valuable knight to her.
And they wouldn't pull a crazy stunt like this within the Empire just because she was beautiful. There had to be something about the young lady that I didn't know.
*What about the knight?*
The crucial question was whether the black knight had eaten that famously delicious stew. If he was capable of fighting the devil, then a few zombies would be no problem.
“Boss!! Let’s run for it! If we work together, we can break through one side, can’t we?!”
The weasel shouted, the hand holding his axe trembling. He looked like he was ready to bolt at any moment, twitching as he watched my face.
*…Running away.*
I smiled bitterly at the word, a word that tasted both sweet and sharp.
[Run.]
[Don't look back.]
[Survive.]
[That's an order.]
I was already in the eastern frontier of the Empire, the opposite end of everything. Where else could I run from here?
If I abandoned the young lady, I couldn't go back to Casedic Castle. I'd be caught immediately and become the castle's new mascot.
*That leaves the Brington Kingdom across the sea… I'd rather die.*
The lingering fishy taste in my mouth made me smile bitterly. I would rather die than go there.
“Get inside. They just look shitty. They're weak, so don't doze off. Swing that axe properly.”
I thought I heard the weasel shout something behind me, but his voice was lost in the sound of the rain. It was probably nonsense anyway.
As I stepped forward, the heavy downpour greeted me. It was the lukewarm, indecisive rain of April.
The weather in the eastern part of the Empire was truly wretched. A shitty place where it rained more often than the sun shone.
*Gwooooh—.*
The zombie right in front of me greeted me with a deflated sound, like air escaping a balloon.
“Gwooooar!”
I swung my sword horizontally. In one stroke, the zombie's neck was split open. Cold blood splattered, but I didn't flinch. The lukewarm rain immediately washed it away.
The headless body reached out as if in regret before collapsing forward. I shoved it aside with my shoulder and pressed on. The zombie fell to the ground, creating a small splash.
[Huh? Why are you always smiling? In my village, they say smiling brings good luck. So you should smile too, kid. What's with that face?]
Right now, I needed some luck.
I forced the corners of my mouth up.
I didn't know if the knight had eaten that magnificent stew or not, but I needed to draw the zombies' attention.
“Ppappa! Ppappappa! Ppappappappa!!”
I shouted the sound of a military reveille, a tune now faint in my memory, at the top of my lungs.
[I told you not to do that! It’s annoying! I don't know what it is, but still!]
*Ruuuumble— Krakoom!!*
Lightning cut the crimson sky in half with a deafening roar.
The surroundings were momentarily illuminated.
And I saw them. Dozens of zombies, their movements halted, staring at me. Drool dripped from their mouths in long strands, pooling on the ground.
“That’s a shitload of them.”
I feigned nonchalance, muttering as I readjusted my grip on my sword.
Against this many, the odds weren't zero.
And unfortunately for me, if there was even a sliver of a chance, I always survived.