Everyone Came Home Alive

"Alright, what's this?"

Dorian pointed at a footprint stamped into the ground, as thick as a man's forearm.

"O-orc."

"An orc footprint..."

The Snow Strike Squad swordsmen spoke through expressions like they'd bitten into something rotten.

"Oooorc? Oooooorc?"

"Guh—it's an orc, sir!"

"That's right."

He only nodded once he heard the honorifics.

"Alright, kids. Then what's this?"

This time he pointed at claw marks gouged into a tree.

"Th-this is a beowul—"

"Don't know, do you? This is a beowulf's territorial marking. Huh? You need to know all this stuff if you want to be a proper scout!"

Dorian cut the Snow Strike Squad swordsmen off just as they were about to give the right answer and launched into a lecture, recycling information he'd only learned himself a short while ago.

"Guh..."

"Urgh!"

"P-please..."

The Snow Strike Squad swordsmen stared at the sky, clenched their fists, or chewed their lips, swallowing their rage. The amusing part was that Edquil, captain of the Snow Strike Squad, was among them—his face as pale as a corpse. They felt Raon's gaze watching from behind, and their shoulders trembled.

"Never thought I'd live to see a sight like that."

Terian let out a dry laugh as he watched the Snow Strike Squad trudging after Dorian with logs in their arms.

"If this causes any trouble, I'll speak to the Commander myself."

Raon bowed his head to Terian in apology.

"Don't. Treating comrades like pack mules is something that should never happen, just as you said. Those fellows need to learn how hard the scouts work. Three months should be enough for them to figure it out—if anything, I want to commend you for the idea."

Terian smiled and held up a hand, making it clear he meant every word.

"There's just one thing I'd like to ask, though."

"Please, go ahead."

"Did you make those traps with that dagger of yours?"

His gaze drifted to the Requiem Sword at Raon's waist. The fact that he was even asking meant he already knew.

"I did."

There was no point hiding something he already knew. Raon nodded slowly.

"Hah."

Terian shook his head with another dry laugh.

I wasn't mistaken.

Just as he'd suspected, Raon's formidable martial power was only the tip of the iceberg. This young swordsman had far more to him than that.

"You're going to be someone great."

"I agree."

Beto, commander of the Wolves Mercenary Corps, came over and dropped down beside them.

"I may not look it, but I've got a few years on me."

He pointed at his youthful face with a grin.

"I've traveled the entire continent and met all kinds of people, but I've never encountered anyone like you, Sir Raon. How should I put it? Your martial power is immense, your thinking runs deep, but your emotions are... thin?"

"Thin?"

"Ah, that's a compliment. It means there's a purity to you."

"...I see."

Raon nodded. These were experienced men—they were reading him accurately.

Should I hide it? No.

He'd wondered if he'd revealed too much, but that wasn't right either. He'd already decided to live as Raon the swordsman, not as an assassin. Showing this much was fine.

"I'll be counting on you going forward. I have a feeling I'll be needing your help quite a bit."

"The feeling is mutual."

Terian held out his hand. Raon took it.

"Haha, count me in too."

Beto's long hand stacked on top of theirs.

"If you get the chance, come visit our mercenary corps sometime."

Raon couldn't fully trust him yet, but at least Beto seemed to have taken a liking to him—whether as a guest or a recruitment target.

"Already pitching?"

"When you see talent like this, you've got to put a mark on them right away. Honestly I'd love to snatch him up immediately, but that's not realistic. We're comrades of a sort, though—that's better than being complete strangers."

"Good grief."

Beto grinned, and Terian wore a similar smile.

"What? A troooooll?"

Raon turned at the sound of Dorian's scolding.

"This is a Kari mountain goat's footprint! You don't even know that? You guys are hopeless. One more log!"

He scrunched up his nose and rummaged through his belly pouch.

That brat has no sense of moderation. Truly worthy of being This King's number one subordinate.

Wrath nodded in admiration.

Honestly, there's not a single normal person wherever I go.

Raon sighed as he watched Dorian actually pull out another log.

"Wooooaaaah!"

The moment they passed through Habun Castle's main gate, a roar exploded loud enough to sting the ears. It was the voices of soldiers and townspeople lining the main road.

"They all came back alive!"

"Isn't this a first in Habun Castle's history?"

"This expedition must've been packed with talent!"

The townspeople burst into cheers again as they watched the soldiers enter like conquering heroes.

"That's an Ice Troll Warrior and a Shaman!"

"Whew, they're huge even after all this time. Real monsters."

"But I heard one person took them both down?"

"I heard that too. That young swordsman who dueled the Wolves—he killed both of them."

"There he is! He doesn't even have a special presence. How is he that strong?"

"The rumors are probably exaggerated, right?"

Because a scout unit had gone ahead a day early to deliver the news, every soldier and townsperson's gaze locked onto Raon. They swept over him from head to toe with eyes of admiration, curiosity, awe, or suspicion. Raon walked toward the center, receiving those now-somewhat-familiar stares with composure.

"There's really not going to be a single person in the castle who doesn't know you now."

Dorian sidled up with a sly grin. He'd worked off so much stress tormenting the Snow Strike Squad that his unwashed face was practically glowing.

"You're enjoying this."

"Of course I am! Juniors just showed up! In group living, your whole quality of life depends on how many juniors you've got under you. I'm in heaven right now. Heaven!"

The fighting was over, and he had plenty of people to dump chores on—Dorian's steps were light as if he'd grown wings.

They arrived at headquarters like a parade, the heads of the Ice Troll Warrior and Shaman held out in front. Milland's adjutant, Charles, came out and bowed.

"The Commander requests that you come up immediately."

He had summoned Raon, Terian, Edquil, and even Radin.

"So I've been left out?"

"Ah, well..."

"I'm kidding. Kidding!"

Beto shrugged and headed toward the tavern, saying he might as well grab a drink. The mercenaries were more than happy to follow.

"This way, please."

Raon followed Charles up to the commander's office. Passing through a black door that carried the scent of old wood, they found Commander Milland with his face tightly furrowed.

They'd returned without a single casualty after taking down elite monsters, so the reason for Milland's expression was obvious. As expected, he was glaring ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at Edquil, captain of the Snow Strike Squad, with a murderous look.

"Edquil."

"Yes..."

"Seems I've been treating you too comfortably."

Milland lifted his head, and a pressure so sharp it stung the air bloomed from him.

"Ghk!"

Caught full-on by that presence, Edquil couldn't even breathe. He clutched at his chest.

"At every single meeting I told you to take proper care of the scouts. You sat through every one of those meetings, and this is how you screw me over?"

It was crude language unbecoming of a commander, but it suited him strangely well.

"I-I'm sorry! Please forgive me just this once!"

Edquil dropped to his knees and slammed his forehead into the floor.

"Forgive?"

"Yes! If you overlook it just this once, I'll never let something like this happen again..."

"Forgiveness is fine. You'll just have to pay the price."

Edquil lifted his head at Milland's seemingly softened voice. The hope in his eyes died in an instant.

"It was a wager certified by the Vice Commander, so I can't just break that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠promise. And I rather like the method. Once you learn how scouts live and work, maybe you lot will finally get your heads on straight."

"C-Commander..."

"As of today, you belong to the scouts. The original agreement was three months, but I have no intention of leaving it at that. After three months, I'll look at your attitudes and decide whether to lift this punishment. Get out."

"Y-yes, sir."

Edquil walked out looking like half his soul had left his body. He resembled a zombie from the Forest of the Dead.

"Radin."

"Yes."

"Do you distrust me that much?"

"No, sir!"

"Then why didn't you tell me they were dumping chores on you?"

Milland's mood was still fierce. If Radin didn't answer properly, it looked like he'd be punished too.

"When we go out on missions or subjugations, it's the soldiers who clash with the swordsmen. I'm fine, but I was afraid of retaliation against the men under me. If we take a hit from an Aura User, we're laid up for a long time."

Radin's voice trembled finely. His flushed face made it clear his concern for his subordinates was genuine.

"You idiot."

Milland clicked his tongue.

"You think this is the first or second time I've dealt with something like that running this place? If you'd come to me in private, I could've settled it all!"

"How, sir?"

"The same way he did."

He raised a finger and pointed at Raon.

"There's nothing a beating can't fix. If fists don't solve the problem, it means you didn't hit hard enough."

"Excuse me?"

"F-Father?"

Terian and Radin both went wide-eyed.

"Anyway, you're getting disciplined too. One week of confinement starting tomorrow."

"Starting tomorrow? Today is..."

"You came back with an Ice Troll Warrior and a Shaman and zero casualties. I can't slap you with punishment right away. Eat and enjoy yourselves today."

"Ah—thank you, sir."

Radin bowed with an awkward expression that couldn't decide between laughing and crying, then left the commander's office.

Finally, Milland's gaze turned to Raon.

"Well done. And thank you."

As if the scowl had never existed, Milland smiled gently. Honestly, it didn't quite suit him. It was like watching a slab of granite try to smile—but the warmth of a man who cherished his subordinates came through all the same.

"Everyone coming back without a single death is a miracle. You really did well."

"It was nothing."

"Your graduation exam was to last a year here, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"I'll report every last detail of this incident to House Zieghart, not a word omitted. I'll also make sure the compensation is properly arranged, so come collect it later."

"Thank you."

Raon gave a small nod, and Milland's smile deepened.

"At times like this, you still look like a kid."

He chuckled and waved a hand.

"Go on. You should enjoy today too. If you're late, there won't be any seats left."

"Yes, sir."

Raon bowed and left. Milland beckoned to Terian, who was still standing there in a daze.

"Well?"

"Sir?"

"You said you wanted to see that boy's true nature. What kind of fellow is he?"

"A boy I couldn't see through."

"Couldn't see through?"

"He wasn't someone I dared to judge. I thought he was still a lump of iron waiting to be hammered—but he's already a blade racing toward completion."

"Heh. I told you, didn't I? That one is different."

Milland nodded as if he'd known all along.

"His temperament is good, too. He doesn't even show his power unless someone picks a fight first. He doesn't quite fit House Zieghart, and yet, strangely, he fits it perfectly."

"If you can draw a line to Raon, draw it."

"Sir?"

"Because he might become the head of House Zieghart someday."

"Th-that much?"

"That boy..."

Milland looked down through the window at Raon, a faint smile on his lips.

Hearing that everyone had gone to the tavern, Raon headed straight for Frost Branch. The moment he opened the door, a clamor of voices and the smell of liquor hit him.

"Sir Raon! Over here!"

Dorian, his face flushed red, waved wildly.

"Huh? It's the man of the hour!"

"The pride of our scout unit!"

"Raon! Raon! Raon!"

The scouts pounded the tables with their beer mugs, chanting his name.

"Wooooaaaah!"

"Sword Demon! Sword Demon!"

"We're here too!"

The mercenaries did the same, bursting into cheers.

Raon smirked and sat down beside Dorian. He'd built a decent rapport with them on the way back across the North Sea, so hearing his name chanted wasn't all that unpleasant.

"It's on me today! Yua! Bring out every drink and every dish you've got!"

"What are you talking about? I'm paying!"

"No, the 3rd Scout Squad is covering this!"

Now the scouts and mercenaries started fighting over who would pick up the tab. Coming back without a single death had everyone in high spirits.

"Ahem!"

After serving the ordered food and drinks, Yua stood in the middle of the tavern and gave a cute little cough.

"Since the entire expedition came back safely, I'll sing a song for the first time in a while!"

Yua raised her small hand and beamed.

"Ooooh!"

"Really?"

"How long has it been since we heard Yua sing!"

"We owe this to the Sword Demon!"

Everyone in the tavern turned to look at Yua. It didn't feel like empty flattery.

"Alright, then."

Yua fluttered her twintails and closed her eyes. The moment she clasped her hands and began to sing, the tavern fell silent.

How to put it? It resonated in the chest.

It wasn't a matter of being good. The caliber of the talent itself was on another level. Across both his past life and this one, Raon had never seen a child who sang like this. It wasn't about technique or a clear tone. Her voice felt like it was gently stroking people's emotions.

She is certainly skilled. A special talent dwells within her.

You're just being nice because she gave you pineapple?

This King is cold and impartial when it comes to judging talent. That has already reached a level akin to magic. Did your chest not stir?

He nodded in agreement.

If that child were set to singing, she would surely go far. She is too precious to be carrying food around this place. This King hereby appoints her as personal singer and chef...

There he goes again.

Raon ignored Wrath's rambling and focused on Yua's voice. The creature was right—there was something special in her song.

"Wooooaaaah!"

"Yua! Yua!"

The moment Yua's song ended, the tavern shook with cheers. The mercenaries and scouts clapped Raon on the shoulder, moved that they'd gotten to hear Yua sing because of him.

A small festival unfolded inside the tavern. Soldiers and mercenaries mixed together, laughing and talking, unspooling their memories of the expedition.

Yes. This was it.

Fighting with your life on the line, and from that, camaraderie being born—this was the scene he'd hoped for when he came to Habun Castle. It was a little rough, but a warm feeling knocked against his heart.

There's still so much to learn in this world.

Raon smiled faintly as he watched everyone enjoying themselves.

Midway up Bukmang Mountain, on a tree overlooking the Zieghart Annex, Glenn Zieghart stood upon a thin branch that looked barely able to hold a small bird. His crimson gaze caught Sylvia inspecting the high-grade beef that had been left in front of the annex.

"Tsk. She'd like it even more if you gave it to her yourself."

Rimer, perched on the branch just below, smacked his lips.

"I didn't even know that child liked beef."

Glenn spoke while keeping Sylvia in his sight until she closed the door and went inside.

"I don't know what she likes or what she hates. I wasn't a father. I was just a bystander."

"......"

"It wasn't because you wanted it that way, my lord."

"I did want it. I wanted to become strong, and this was the result. The only images of Sylvia left in my memory are from when she was born, and when she fled here."

Glenn's voice was as lonely as a late-blooming flower standing alone in a cold wind.

"Then why not start filling in that time from now?"

"Rimer."

"Yes?"

"If you scattered a sack of feathers from this place, what would happen?"

"They'd fly away."

"That's right. They'd scatter in every direction, impossible to catch. The words I've spoken and the things I've done are the same. What's already been done cannot be gathered back up."

"Hmm, I don't think so?"

Rimer stuck out his lip.

"What do you mean, you don't think so?"

"Watch."

He shredded a magic scroll from his pocket and scattered it into the air. The scraps of paper scattered on the cold wind.

"Now!"

Rimer swept his hand like a claw. A green wind rose, and every scrap of the scattered magic scroll returned to his palm.

"See? It works."

He grinned and held out the magic scroll in his hand.

"...I wasn't talking to the likes of you."

Glenn ground his teeth and leaped down from the tree.

"Huh? My lord, are you sulking?"

"Shut up."

"I was just kidding!"

"Don't follow me."

"Hahaha! My ears have been itching a lot lately—you haven't been talking behind my back, have you?"

"I don't even want your name in my mouth."

As Glenn and Rimer bickered their way toward the Lord's Palace, a bitterly cold wind brushed across both their heads.

"The wind's getting colder. It'll start soon."

"Yes. Once the Wave begins, that child will learn why they call Habun Castle hell."

"Oh? You actually answered me?"

"Tsk."

Glenn clicked his tongue and turned his back again.

"I heard Raon's been doing well at Habun Castle. Fill me in a little, won't you?"

"I don't know."

"Oh, come on. You get regular reports every two weeks! A man who can't even sleep at night worrying about his grandson... huh?"

"Hoooo."

Yellow sparks ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠crackled from Glenn's grip.

"M-my lord?"

"I'll make sure that snout of yours stays shut for a while."

"Wait! If that hits me, I'll die!"

"Yes. Die."