Chapter 2
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: A Desperate Bargain
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“First rank, prepare to fire.”
Was humanity’s fate doomed to be wretched because they started with nothing?
“Damn, those Uruk bastards are swarming in again. Never-ending.”
“Captain, we having Uruk bacon for lunch again?”
“Shut your mouths and focus. Wait for it… wait… wait… now! Fire! First rank, reload! Second and third ranks, fire!”
They didn't possess the superior technology of the Dwarves.
Nor could they wield all miracles like the Elves.
Nor did they command the overwhelming might of Dragons.
“Shit, the left flank is about to collapse.”
“An ambush? What are the reserves doing?!”
“You idiots. You think the reserves need to go?”
It is said that when humanity faced extinction, the gods sent down five heroes to bear its fate.
Heroes that history would come to call Warriors.
But as if a cruel joke by the gods, not a single one of these Warriors appeared after the age of the gods. Not one.
“Ah, if the reserves aren't heading to the left flank, that means…”
And so, humanity began to create their own Warriors.
Their official title was FakeWarrior.
They were humanity’s strongest soldiers, wielding false holy swords and shouldering the fate of their kind.
“That means Lady Camilla is over there, doesn’t it?”
A flash of crimson steel.
Dozens of Uruk heads, which had been smashing through the left flank while swinging their savage weapons, soared into the sky.
“I am Camilla Alter Aradamanthel.”
The sword was a tachi.
Gleaming with a metallic luster not of this world, it was a weapon of slaughter in the name of a holy sword.
A holy sword was a weapon granted only to a Warrior, and that one was the unique form of the Supreme Holy Sword Aradamanthel.
That meant the swordswoman wielding it was, of course, one of humanity's strongest soldiers—a FakeWarrior.
“I will kill you all.”
A prayerful cry to awaken the holy sword.
Amidst the bloody banquet the blade unleashed, a river of Uruk blood soaked the earth.
Childhood,
The Prelude to Summer (1)
“Jeez, Lady Camilla. Look at this mess you’ve made again. Turned ‘em into human sashimi, you have.”
“They’ve elevated the art of dicing up humans to a whole new level, I’ll give ‘em that.”
“Art, my ass.”
If the fight against the Uruks was grueling, the aftermath was nauseating.
The villages they trampled became slaughterhouses like this, spreading the stench of blood everywhere.
The monstrous wolves they rode, the Vlashwurfs, had a particular fondness for human flesh.
“It’s not like it’s your first time seeing this. Quit your damn whining. You want a slap or something?”
The heroine scolding her soldiers as she gazed down at the putrid pile of corpses was surprisingly calm.
A tall, slender figure.
Beneath a bob of stark white hair, her golden dragon eyes emitted an uncanny light.
The white hair and dragon eyes were proof of body modification, one of the most famous physical traits of the FakeWarriors.
The world called this heroine Camilla Alter Aradamanthel, meaning ‘Camilla, the proxy of the Supreme Holy Sword Aradamanthel.’
“What are your orders?”
“What do you think? Are we supposed to sift through those smashed faces and identify them one by one? Grab what’s worth grabbing and burn the rest. Before disease breaks out.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Just as she gave the order and turned to leave, a commotion mixed with shouting erupted from the village entrance.
“Now what?”
No sooner had Camilla frowned than a couple of mercenaries dashed toward the source of the disturbance and returned, dragging someone with them.
“He suddenly ran into the village and started causing a ruckus. He’s completely insane.”
A boy with hair as black as jet and crimson eyes.
Held by the scruff of his neck by a rather large mercenary, he dangled helplessly in the air. It was impossible to guess how many days he’d gone without food.
“Let go! Give it back! Give it back!”
At that moment, Camilla found herself staring intently at his face, for a reason different from the others.
‘Where have I seen that kid before? Why does he look so strangely familiar?’
The mercenaries, who had been scattered in squads for cleanup, began to gather one by one, muttering amongst themselves as if a good show had started.
“That brand on his cheek… isn’t that the Valkrush clan’s emblem?”
“You mean he’s in league with the Uruks?”
“I doubt it. No one would get that tattooed unless they were crazy. The captain would know…”
Camilla sat down on the flagstones of the ruined assembly hall and continued to watch the boy with a blank expression.
Flanking her were the two giants of the company.
To her left stood Eltram, the mercenary captain, a beastman as massive as an Uruk, covered in fur, with the head of a polar bear.
Eltram spoke.
“Did that brat really cause a scene for no reason?”
“No, not exactly… He was demanding to see Lady Camilla. We ignored it as nonsense, but then he went ballistic.”
Eltram’s vicious, beastly eyes narrowed as he strode toward the boy. Eltram was one of those infamous beastmen.
Cursed creatures, the beastmen. Neither children of the Abyss nor children of the Light…
Most beastmen were despised and scorned across the continent, driven to live at the world's edge, but on the battlefield, it was a different story.
They were the finest of warriors.
Their vast combat experience.
Their tenacious vitality and fighting spirit.
Even setting aside their ferocity, which surpassed that of any beast, their physical strength and build, capable of facing an Uruk head-on, were truly formidable weapons.
“Who the hell do you think you are to be demanding to see Lady Camilla?”
“To learn swordsmanship.”
“Swordsmanship? And why is that?”
“Swordsmanship is how you kill people with a sword… I need to know that to kill those Uruk bastards!”
A strange silence fell for a moment.
Then, Eltram clutched his stomach and burst into laughter.
The mercenaries followed their captain’s lead, doubling over with laughter.
“If those Uruk bastards heard this, they’d piss themselves.”
“Screaming ‘I’m the Uruk Slayer!’”
“My, my, did you remember to bring a diaper? I can lend you mine. Though I’ve already soiled it once, so I’m not sure if you’d mind.”
Hahahahahahahahahahaha!
In the midst of the roaring laughter, Eltram suddenly stopped and thrust his face right in front of Kaisen’s, meeting his gaze.
“Don’t get cocky, brat.”
“…”
“Does Lady Camilla look like a nanny who’ll put up with your whining? This is a battlefield. There’s no place for a snot-nosed kid.”
Though Eltram’s eyes and voice were laced with considerable killing intent, the boy showed no sign of looking away.
He felt no fear.
It had already been dulled, shattered, trampled beyond recognition—the emotions of his youth.
‘What the hell is with this kid?’
Even the great Eltram was rather perplexed.
Other kids would piss their pants and run at the mere scowl of an ordinary beastman.
Yet this one wasn’t backing down an inch against Eltram, who possessed a fiercer aura and physique than any other beastman warrior.
“What’s with that brand? Who branded you like that?”
“You’re not going to teach me swordsmanship, are you? So I’m not going to tell you, either. I’ll just find someone else. I’ll go quietly, so just give me back my thing.”
“Your thing?”
“Ah, about that, Captain.”
The mercenary who had caught the boy flashed a servile smile and made a coin shape with his fingers, indicating he’d pocketed something that looked valuable.
“Pathetic bastard… Do what you want.”
Eltram seemed to have lost interest, dusting off his hands and walking away while roaring at some other mercenaries.
“Where do you bastards think you’re slacking off?”
The moment Eltram left, the boy snapped his head up at the mercenary holding him.
“Give it back.”
“Give what back? Listen, kiddo, this nice uncle will keep that dangerous thing safe for you, so don’t you worry and be on your way.”
“I said it’s mine. Hand it over!”
The boy lunged at the mercenary.
But with his frail body, it was an impossible fight from the start.
His opponent wasn’t some good-for-nothing conscript but an elite mercenary serving on the front lines with the FakeWarrior’s company.
“Ha, this little brat who still smells of his mother’s milk… I was trying to be nice…”
The mercenary easily knocked the boy down and was about to kick him in the side when it happened.
“Stop.”
The young man in a pure white robe, who had been standing to FakeWarrior Camilla’s right, spoke.
“What did you take from him?”
His voice was firm yet compassionate.
It also carried such a great dignity that it couldn’t be easily ignored, making the mercenary hesitate for a moment.
“It’s nothing special…”
“Nothing special, you say?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good. If it’s nothing special, then give it back. If we steal things for no reason, what makes us any different from the Uruks?”
While the mercenary grumbled and reluctantly fumbled at his waist, the man in the white robe knelt before Kaisen, meeting him at eye level.
“I apologize. This man didn’t do it out of malice.”
He was a young man with neatly tied-back, light blue hair in a ponytail and blue eyes that suited him strangely well.
“Please understand. The excitement of battle hasn’t faded yet. Blood, you see, can sometimes turn a person into a beast.”
The brooch fastening the front of his robe was a wolf’s head made of silver.
This was an honor bestowed only upon the top graduate of Winterhold, one of the Empire’s Three Magic Towers.
“My name is Johan Wolf Frost. You can just call me Wolf.”
“…”
“I’m a mage, though not one of any great skill. Would you tell me your name now?”
A modesty so refined it was almost austere.
The middle name ‘Wolf’ was also an honor among honors, granted only to the top graduate of the academy.
And he was currently an Aquizard-rank mage, a 5-Star Archmage representing the Empire’s greatest scholars.
“…Kaisen.”
Wolf savored the name in his mouth for a moment before smiling brightly.
“Kaisen! What a wonderful name. Is it from the draconic tongue? It means ‘connection,’ doesn’t it? Who gave it to you?”
“My mother.”
“Your mother must be a very knowledgeable woman. What is she like?”
At those words, Kaisen bit his lip in pain.
“She’s dead. Killed by the Uruks.”
As he spat out the next words, Wolf’s eyes filled with pity.
“By the Uruk tribe that left that brand on your cheek?”
Kaisen lowered his eyes, and a bitter silence hung over the camp.
Though the mercenaries were emotionally hardened, a few cast sympathetic glances.
Kaisen's emaciated body, a result of surviving for a month by scavenging through abandoned houses while heading north through the ruined southern regions, added to their pity.
“Here it is.”
Just then, the mercenary handed Wolf the item he had taken from Kaisen.
A shortsword.
It was the memento Kaisen had managed to keep… the one thing his mother had treasured her entire life. It was more precious than life itself, which was why he had so desperately demanded it back.
“Wait.”
It was just for an instant.
No, when did she even…?
Camilla, who had been sitting far away, had moved in the blink of an eye and seized the mercenary's wrist.
“L-Lady Camilla?!”
Her grip was so strong.
As the mercenary let out a pained groan and dropped the shortsword, Camilla snatched it from the air.
“You, kid… where did you get this?”
And she fixed her gaze on the boy she had been observing with a blank expression until now.
“Camilla, what are you doing? What’s gotten into you?”
Despite Wolf’s attempt to intervene, Camilla’s harsh words continued, making even the mercenaries tilt their heads in confusion.
“Where did you steal it! Are you deaf? Don’t have ears? Want me to punch some holes in them for you?”
“I didn’t steal it.”
“Don’t give me that crap.”
“I said I didn’t steal it!”
“Then where did you get it! Speak!”
Camilla sensed a fragment of the truth as Kaisen’s voice wavered and his eyes reddened slightly.
“It’s a memento from my mother… So give it back! It’s the only thing of hers I have left!”
In that instant, that very instant.
Everyone present froze.
“A memento?”
It wasn’t because of the boy’s cry.
It was because of the overwhelming killing intent that erupted from Camilla, so intense it seemed to stain the air crimson.
“Your mother’s…?”
Camilla grabbed Kaisen’s chin, turning his head this way and that, scrutinizing his face.
‘No way.’
Her heart pounded like crazy.
She couldn’t accept the reality reflected in her retinas.
‘Now that I look closely, he’s the spitting image…’
The moment she unconsciously acknowledged it, her mind went white, as if she’d been struck by a giant mace.
How could this be?
Her master had definitely fallen in the final battle of the ‘Black Summer’…?
“Well, that kid’s done for.”
The mercenaries, unaware of the circumstances, sighed and shook their heads.
“Talking back to Lady Camilla like that.”
“Our lady is a true believer in equality. She shows no mercy to anyone, child or adult…”
Only Wolf, Camilla’s friend of twenty years, sensed something was amiss. He grabbed her wrist, which was still holding Kaisen’s chin.
“That’s enough! He’s a child who’s lost his parents. Can’t you be a little gentler? Let him go, for starters.”
Camilla stared blankly at Wolf before finally releasing Kaisen. As Wolf patted the back of the gasping boy, she spoke.
“You want to learn how to slice up Uruks from me? So you can get your revenge?”
“Yes…!”
“Is that so? Then try to impress me.”
For a moment, everyone was speechless.
Kaisen, who was coughing, Wolf, and even the mercenaries.
“Why are you just blinking at me, you little runt? Not going to answer? I said, try to impress me. Show me if you’re worth teaching or not.”
The mercenaries stared at each other, dumbfounded. Wolf was no different.
“L-Lady Camilla?”
“What did she just say?”
“Camilla, what are you doing?”
Who was Camilla?
Wasn’t she the one who had chased away with a string of curses even the promising young talents of the One Saint, Seven Swords who had come seeking her tutelage?
And above all.
“Camilla, a FakeWarrior can’t take a male apprentice. Only women can become FakeWarriors.”
To become a FakeWarrior’s apprentice was tantamount to being designated the next in line.
The holy swords were, with high probability, passed down to the apprentice.
That was why FakeWarriors didn’t take just anyone as an apprentice; their master-disciple relationship was not merely one of teaching, but of inheriting a sacred duty.
“Who said I’m taking this pipsqueak as my apprentice? I’m just seeing if he’s got any potential. What’s all the fuss about?”
“How do I impress you?”
Kaisen shot back challengingly, and a great cheer erupted from the mercenaries.
Camilla spat on the ground.
Then, in a flash, she snatched a longsword from the hip of a nearby mercenary and tossed it to Kaisen.
“Catch.”
“…?”
“I hate people who are all talk. If you’re serious about wanting to learn swordsmanship, then come at me. With the intent to die.”
Kaisen blinked, and Camilla provocatively waved Raminea’s shortsword.
“If you manage to land a single blow? Hell, if you even graze me, I’ll give you this sword back and teach you.
“...!”
“But if I win, this is mine. Why? Mementos are a luxury for someone who’s about to die, right? If you’re going to give up, do it now. I’ll let you take the sword and go on your way.”
At that declaration, the mercenaries shook their heads and burst into laughter.
“My lady, just say you don’t want to teach him.”
“Kid, just take your sword back and leave quietly.”
Kaisen quickly read the mood.
Camilla’s behavior was clearly highly unusual. An opportunity like this had to be seized before she changed her mind.
Perhaps that was why, in the next moment, he found himself saying:
“You promised.”
The mercenaries’ jaws dropped, and even Camilla’s eyebrow twitched.
All eyes were on Kaisen.
Even Wolf couldn’t believe his eyes. Kaisen had gripped the longsword embedded in the ground and was pointing it directly at Camilla.
“If I win, you’ll teach me how to use a sword.”