Farewell 3
I don't particularly enjoy killing people. But if it was necessary, I never hesitated.
Having already slain two Executors, it was hard to imagine the Pope would simply let Licht go. In the end, it would come down to all-out war. It wouldn't end until one side was completely wiped out.
As far as Licht was concerned, if the Holy Kingdom didn't abandon him, he intended to kill the Pope. He had no plans to die quietly.
Would other Executors be on the move already? 'Who knows.'
He couldn't be sure. Even Licht lacked certainty. There were eleven Executors left. Most were likely out on missions, but would they dispatch another to track him down? After he'd killed the Seventh Seat, Kars, their thinking must have shifted somewhat. Unless it was the First Seat, they'd send at least two.
Licht figured they wouldn't send two or more right away to pursue him. The Holy Kingdom had no such leeway. Their diplomatic issues with El Sion weren't even fully resolved yet.
'Still, just in case.'
He handed Jack and Ranin mana stones infused with his own mana. The moment they shattered, the spell would break, and the other half in his possession would glow white.
'Who'd have thought the spell theory I read in El Sion would come in handy like this.'
Magic typically paired theory with practice, and spells formed the most fundamental backbone of all magic.
It was a communication magic tool he'd improvised. His first attempt at crafting one, but it had turned out decently.
Fiddling with the yellow half-stone in his hand, Licht soon halted before the northern gate.
Unlike the central district, quite a crowd bustled through from morning onward.
"Palenia Holy Kingdom. To the capital Ceres."
"Huh?"
Licht addressed a coachman waiting near the northern gate stables.
"Ceres?"
There was no special reason he'd singled out this one. The carriage was in solid shape, for starters. Coachmen usually flew small flags on their windbreak awnings marking destinations. To El Sion, it'd say El Sion Bound; to Palenia Holy Kingdom, Holy Kingdom Bound—fixed routes.
Among nearby carriages headed to the Holy Kingdom, this one looked the most reliable.
When the coachman didn't reply, Licht asked again.
"To Ceres. You going?"
The man let out a grunt before speaking.
"Hrm... I'm headed to Palenia Holy Kingdom, sure, but not all the way to Ceres. Saloni, the satellite city below it, maybe."
Ceres, the capital with the Light Temple doubling as the Papal Palace and the vast Light Square. From Saloni beneath it, one could reach the capital in half a day on foot.
Licht nodded slightly at the coachman's words. He chose the carriage over horse or foot to buy time for quiet reflection. He'd sort his thoughts en route, then walk from Saloni to Ceres.
"Bailen to Saloni. One gold and fifty silver."
Licht pulled a gold coin and five large silvers from his subspace pouch.
"Hop in first. We'll roll out in thirty."
Climbing into the tented rear, Licht spotted a few prior passengers already seated. They glanced his way but showed no further reaction.
'Nice weather... three days. Four at latest.'
Chairs lined both sides. Licht took an empty seat, lifted the Ascension Sword at his waist, and leaned it diagonally against his shoulder.
In his previous life, whenever he needed to think, he'd cradle the Azure Flower like this. In the wars where life and death hung by a thread, his sword was the only thing he could trust.
'Once in Ceres...'
The Light Temple first, maybe. He'd tucked Ranin's map neatly into his subspace pouch. The road ahead shouldn't be too rough.
Lost in thought, he heard the horses snort, followed by the coachman's loud call to depart.
Now cradling the golden holy sword wrapped in white cloth, Licht gazed out beyond the carriage.
'Won't take long.'
They advanced briefly, passing gate inspection before Bailen swiftly receded amid rising dust.
***
"Weather's perfect, huh?"
Having exited Bailen's southern gate, Jack and Ranin watered their throats by a stream. They'd snagged two decent mounts from the stables and galloped across the plains past noon before entering the woods. They'd tied the horses to nearby trees for a break.
"Did we really need to buy horses?"
"Heh heh. You were gonna get your own someday anyway, right? The young master's pay was no pittance, and we got 'em cheap. Free lunch, basically."
"Your spending habits, though..."
"Eh, worst case, sell 'em in El Sion. Might even turn a profit. El Sion's great and all, but prices are insane."
Jack grumbled from a nearby rock. Ranin had to admit having his own horse was convenient, and the bargain was real, so he dropped it.
"Wonder if the young master's doing alright."
"Licht? Seems like we shouldn't worry about him."
"Haha, yeah, fair. Guy's not dying on the road. If anything, those attackers got wrecked instead."
"More importantly."
"Hm?"
Ranin stood, having refilled his canteen.
"You really quitting the mercenary life?"
"Oh, that?"
Last night, over drinks with his young employer, Jack had said as much: generous pay in hand, time to quit and settle down.
Ranin wasn't surprised. Jack had only swung a blade to survive; he'd always wanted to try trading or learning magic once he had breathing room. His loose purse had kept him broke till now, but with this windfall, his dream was feasible.
"Can't swing a sword forever. Hell, I'm already too old to start a family."
"No woman's gonna say yes to you anyway—"
"Wanna die?"
"Whoa, whoa. Why so touchy?"
"Sigh... That's why I'm saying it. Gotta see my own kid's face before it's too late. You've got that precious little sister, but me? Nothing. Might end up dying alone. What about you?"
"Me?"
Caught off-guard by the reversal, Ranin hesitated.
"Time you found someone too. Can't babysit your sister forever. You'll be thirty in a heartbeat."
"Mind your own business. I'm a decade younger than you."
"Here I am giving advice."
"Sounds like you're rested. Up. Need camp before sundown."
"Yeah, yeah. Big man."
Jack untied his horse, sorting saddlebags. Then—
"Jack."
"Yeah?"
"Quiet."
Ranin's face hardened abruptly—nothing like their earlier banter. As a veteran guide, that look meant trouble.
Jack knew from long partnership. He held his breath, scanning sharply.
"Someone... out there."
Ranin crouched, peering through brush, eyes narrowed.
"Hear that?"
"Shh."
He pressed an ear to the ground. Closing his eyes sharpened his senses: stream gurgle, rustling leaves, whispering wind.
Clop... clop...
Horse hooves.
"Damn."
"What?"
"Coming this way."
"How many?"
"Three. Hooves overlapped three times."
"Other mercs? Wanderers?"
"Nah, doesn't feel like..."
Running into fellow mercenaries or continent-trotting wanderers wasn't rare, but they usually gave space. Camps? One side yielded. If forced together, someone stood watch. No one trusted strangers with their lives in the wilds. Better avoid.
But this felt off.
'Like...'
Like they were homing in on purpose.
"Jack, let's go."
"Now?"
"Yeah. Bad vibe."
"Got it."
Ranin looked grave. Jack agreed without gripe. A seasoned guide's instincts beat intel sometimes. This was one.
Stowing the canteen, they mounted up. Horses fidgeted. Calming them with reins, they veered opposite—
Whoosh!
A searing yellow wave crashed in.
Splat!
Golden surge sliced all four legs clean off their horses.
"Son of a—!"
Blood sprayed. Horses toppled dead without a whinny.
Jack and Ranin leaped free, rolling clear.
Clop, clop. Trot.
Hooves halted nearby.
They scrambled up fast. First strike meant killers—no time to waste, or heads rolled. They knew it.
Raising their eyes—
"Ah..."
"No... way..."
Horror twisted their faces.
Across the stream stood three figures. Dazzling white armor gleamed in sunlight, each etched with distinct numbers.
Palenia's Executors.
'How?'
Ranin's mind reeled. Unlike random travelers, three presences zeroed straight here. He'd thought bandits. Big groups had scout mercs like him, sharp on signs.
But no. These were utterly unexpected.
'Palenia Executors...'
He'd considered it vaguely. Getting tangled with Licht meant learning too much. The Holy Kingdom would kill for it.
But only Licht, Archbishop Sernos, and they knew of the cathedral incident. Seventh Executor, priests, Alder knights—all dead. Even heir Jeron vanished. No leaks possible.
'Unless Sernos...'
Acted in secret? Leak? No way. That's why they'd relaxed.
Licht said even if known, redeploying Executors was near impossible.
He had.
"...Ah!"
A shout snapped him. Jack's cry drew eyes to a yellow mana stone floating from his pocket toward the opposite bank.
The one Licht gave at dawn, infused with his mana.
"Knew it..."
"Issue with the holy relic?"
"No, not that."
The lead Executor and his flanks conversed.
His armor bore a stark 4. Beside: 6 and 9.
A golden triangular relic in the Fourth's palm spun a white thread pointing at the stone. The split threads earlier? This was why. Unsure which was real, they'd tracked south first.
'Doesn't matter.'
The leader shook his head inwardly. Late or soon, just timing. Handle this first. Or take hostages. Shatter it, signal flies.
"Magic tool. Homemade."
"Communication type?"
"Companions, maybe."
"We'll find out soon enough."
Crunch!
Invisible force pulverized the floating stone. Flecks of white mana scattered like a dying gasp before fragments rained to earth.
The three dismounted.
Jack's face was stone as he forced words.
"Fuck... Knew things were going too smooth."
"Jack..."
"Figured I'd die someday..."
Just not today. He snatched his fallen greatsword. Steadied shaking limbs. Deep breath in, out. Foes sharpened into focus.
Hummm!
Faint blue aura flared along the massive blade. Beyond, three Executors closed in.
Glancing aside, Ranin nocked an arrow, face grim.
"...Won't be easy."
In that split second facing death, Jack thought.
Sudden Executors. Shattered stone.
'Please.'
Don't come.
Keep going.
Don't cling to our short bond.
The kid's strength awed, but three Executors solo? No. He'd die pointlessly. They might, but the boy had a bright future.
Jack held no grudge. They'd signed up knowing risks.
He just hoped.
"Come at me all at once, you bastards!"
That he'd press on without hesitation.