That's My Chivalry
Tiller didn't stop even after watching Raon take hold of his sword. I knew it. A cold-blooded bastard like that was never going to just lie down and die. He'd drawn a longsword instead of a dagger, contrary to what Tiller had expected—but the preparations were more than enough.
No rotation.
Unlike every strike before, he put no spin on his spear or his ganggi. He aimed at Raon's heart with nothing but raw power and speed, loosing a spear-blow that carried martial arts itself, stripped of every trick and flourish.
And I've got this one, too.
By shielding his upper body with the Chungru tribesman, he had shrunk the interval in which Raon—swayed by sentiment—could even swing a sword down to almost nothing. It was a perfect attack, covering every possible situation.
Raon drew just before the spear reached his heart. A crimson blade sprang free without the faintest sound, rising on a diagonal from the man's waist. It looked as though it were aiming for the right arm that held the spear.
Tiller's mouth curled into a grin. Too slow!
The boy's quick-draw was skilled, but in a sliver of time this thin it was sluggish as a slug. Tiller was certain he would punch through the bastard's heart before that sword could ever intercept the spear.
Die blaming your own stupidity!
He bit down hard on his lip and drove the spear through to the end. But the spearhead failed to pierce the Raon standing right in front of it. It hung in the air as if it had simply stopped.
My... senses...
Strength drained from his hand. His legs went slack. It felt as though his body were slipping out of his control. For reasons he could not name, the sensation in every inch of him had plunged to an extreme low.
The wounds? No. A few cuts from a sword could not possibly cause this. Raon had clearly done something the moment he drew.
Tiller clenched his teeth hard enough to crack them. I don't know what you did, but—
I'm still faster!
Even with his five senses dulled, the spear would reach before Raon's sword. And he had a Chungru tribesman shielding his body. This was a fight he could not lose.
He pressed the attack. Just as he felt the spear kiss the bastard's skin and started to smile—
It's over... huh?
A faint pain rose from the left arm holding the Chungru tribesman.
Wh-what?
He turned his head. His left arm, severed with a smoothness that sent a chill crawling over his skin, was floating in the air—and the Chungru tribesman who had been clenched in that hand was falling toward the river.
What is this...
It felt like a dream, not reality. He could not understand a single thing. Why the arm that had struck first was the one that had been cut. Why the left arm was gone when the bastard had aimed for the right. Nothing made sense.
A buzzing tinnitus flooded his ears, and in the same instant his senses slammed back into him. Tremendous pain soaked his spine to the marrow.
"GAAAAAAH!"
Tiller screamed as if his throat were tearing itself apart, his jaw rattling.
"What! Whaaaaaat!"
The agony was so vicious his mind would not turn. Clamping down on the ruin of his left shoulder to staunch the blood, he scrambled backward like a madman.
"What did you do to me!"
"You all right?"
Raon ignored Tiller's howling entirely and reached a hand toward Garam, who had gone under.
"Nnh..."
Garam took the offered hand with his head hanging low.
"I-I'm sorry."
"You did well."
"Huh?"
"He let his guard down because he was using you as a hostage. That's how I was able to take the arm."
Raon pointed at Tiller, who was still squinting, unable to piece together what had just happened.
"You saved people, and you even weakened Tiller. You've done everything you needed to do."
He spun the Heavenly Sky Sword once and slid it home into the scabbard.
"I'll go finish this now."
He gave Garam a faint smile and walked forward. Tiller swallowed dryly and stepped back.
"What the hell are you! What are you!"
"The one who's going to take your head."
Raon pushed his chest forward and bent his legs. Settling into a classic quick-draw stance, he kicked off the river.
The blue water filling his vision streaked past like starlight, and Tiller's twisted face—looking as if he had become a demon—rushed up to meet him.
"You damned ghost! Just die already!"
Tiller thrust the spear gripped at his waist.
The second casting. Every last drop of aura poured into a single, roaring thrust.
Blood sprayed again from the left arm he had only just managed to staunch.
A wave of ganggi came crashing in from the front. Raon drove a true step into the water and drew the Heavenly Sky Sword. The silver blade that emerged from the scabbard was steeped in the principle of Silver Sword Dream.
Raon Zieghart-Style Sword Technique, Form 3. A dreamlike, hazy strike that severs the enemy before they can even react.
The instant the Heavenly Sky Sword fully revealed itself, an inaudible melody unfurled through the air, and Tiller's senses shrank to almost nothing. The man seemed to feel it too. He bit his lip.
Raon extended the blade with extreme speed, as if to split Tiller's heart down the middle. Tiller caught the direction and changed the trajectory imbued in his spear.
He took the bait.
But that was the phantom sword's deception. The real strike was a vertical slash rising from below.
"Kh—!"
Tiller spun his spear in a hurry, as if he would not be fooled twice—but the Heavenly Sky Sword had already arrived at its destination.
A wet, splitting crack rang out. Tiller's right arm tilted on a diagonal and fell away, spear and all. A savage volume of blood erupted from both ruined arms.
"GAAAAAAH!"
The moment his senses returned, he tore out a monstrous scream like hundreds of birds shrieking at once.
"Ugh— uuugh!"
Without even the strength to flee, Tiller dropped to his knees in the river and wailed. The pain stole his wits, and he began to sink.
A hiss of frost raced across the water. Raon froze the riverbed to keep the man from going under. This was not someone who deserved to die that easily.
"They say the pain of losing parents and siblings is like having your limbs torn off."
Raon flicked the blood from the Heavenly Sky Sword and lifted his chin.
"That's what you've been doing all this time."
In truth, it was not even close. A man who had slaughtered innocent Chungru, stolen their treasure, and taken children hostage to order their parents to commit murder was someone you could kill, revive, and kill again, and still not have done enough.
"And the worst of it."
Raon adjusted his grip on the Heavenly Sky Sword and stepped in.
"They say a parent losing a child is like having your guts ripped out."
He leveled the Heavenly Sky Sword at Tiller's abdomen.
"W-wait!"
Tiller shook his head, jaw trembling.
"I-I'm a disciple of the South-North Alliance Leader! If you kill me, the South-North Alliance will move! Can you handle that?!"
He screamed it like a last, thrashing bid to live.
"I already told you I don't care."
"Y-you can just run back to Zieghart—but what about the humans behind you?! The moment you leave, the river pirates will turn them into fish food!"
"You don't need to worry about that. As of today, Doran Village belongs to Zieghart."
"Keheheh! Do you even have the authority to decide that? This isn't just any village—it's a village that will be fighting the South-North Alliance! You think Zieghart is going to take that on?"
Tiller snickered as if the answer were obviously no.
"Think carefully. This is your last chance. If you spare me— gahk!"
"Shut your mouth."
Raon cut him off and drove the blade into the man's stomach.
"Khhhk..."
"The Family Head fears no one."
The Glenn Zieghart Raon had seen so far was a man who would erase an entire faction the moment they picked a fight. He was not going to be intimidated by the name of the South-North Alliance.
"But if, by any chance, Zieghart abandons the protection of Doran Village—I'll plant my own flag on this land and this river."
"Wh-what..."
"Not as Zieghart. I'll protect this land in the name of Raon Zieghart."
He twisted the blade of the Heavenly Sky Sword, wringing out an agony beyond bearing.
"GAAAAAAH!"
Listening to the scream, Raon drew the sword free.
"W-wait—I still haven't said—"
Ghk.
The blade of the Heavenly Sky Sword swept through the sunlight glittering on the river, and Tiller's head sank into the water. He vanished into the dark with his eyes still wide, as if he could not believe his own death until the very end.
"Ghk. Khhhk..."
A suppressed groan, like a throat being squeezed, made Raon turn. Garam was trembling, tears running down his face. The time he had spent at Tiller's side and the time he had suffered at Tiller's hands seemed to overlap, and the feeling of it had finally broken loose.
"It's all over."
Raon walked over and caught Garam's shaking shoulders.
"Let's go back."
"Raon is going to clash with the South-North Alliance?"
Glenn rested his chin on his hand against the throne and narrowed his eyes.
"Yes. Whether the change in the Chungru Tribe was artificial or natural, the South-North Alliance is after the entire Gazelle River."
Roen continued as he reviewed the Biyeon Assembly's report.
"They will not stop at Doran Village. They will want Yuin Village as well—so a collision with the Light Wind Squad is inevitable."
"Rimer will handle it well enough."
Glenn lowered his eyelids as if the matter barely interested him.
"Do you truly think so? Of the Rimer we have now?"
Roen furrowed his brow as if the words did not even make sense.
"Nngh."
Glenn made a pained sound and slowly opened his eyes.
"How long is that damned fool going to keep this up..."
He let out a sigh and shook his head.
"In any case, the one leading the Light Wind Squad at present is Young Master Raon, and the opponent is Tiller Seton. I expect they will meet head-on."
Roen glanced at the report and clicked his tongue.
"According to the report, the real Tiller is no hero. He is closer to a swindler. There is a high likelihood the fighting will grow large, and that it will become a matter of killing or being killed."
"It would."
"The South-North Alliance is not the White Blood Cult, who do not fear death. Tiller will use the fact that he is the Alliance Leader's disciple to beg for his life. When that moment comes, how do you believe Young Master Raon will move?"
"He'll cut him down, of course."
Glenn answered at once, as if there were nothing to think about.
"That child is the grandson who inherits my will. He is not going to be cowed by a cheap reputation like that."
He smiled, cold and certain, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"And if it goes the other way? If Young Master Raon loses to Tiller and comes home badly wounded—what then?"
"Then I would have to punish that weakling, of course. And..."
Glenn closed the hand that had been resting on the throne into a fist.
"The South-North Alliance's headquarters. Its location is known, is it not?"
"Pardon? Ah—yes."
Roen nodded. Unlike Eden, hidden in darkness, or the White Blood Cult's headquarters, the South-North Alliance's main compound was known, at least in rough terms.
The words sounded like the truth. A presence that could crush the world itself began to seep off Glenn in a slow, rising tide.
"As expected, the Family Head cherishes the young master more than any—"
"Ahem! I-it is not because of Raon, or the other children. I am merely collecting the debt of Zieghart being slighted!"
Glenn shook his head as if that were absolutely not the case.
"Is that truly so?"
"Of course it is!"
Roen's lips twitched, as if he were holding back a laugh.
"Then what did you mean a moment ago, when you said Young Master Raon is the grandson who inherits your will?"
"Wh-when did I."
"You did. You said a grandson who inherits your will would never do such a thing."
"Nngh."
"Heh heh."
Roen watched Glenn's face turn red and drew a faint smile. Young master, please come home soon. There was a grandfather thinking of nothing but his grandson, waiting until his neck fell off.
Rimer watched Tiller's corpse sink into the river and let out a short laugh.
"That's that, then."
They had saved every last member of the Chungru Tribe, exposed the South-North Alliance pirates' crimes, and with the death of Tiller—the last pirate standing—the whole affair was finished. A perfect victory, without a single death or serious injury.
The Chungru will recover soon enough, too.
Once the Water God Stone was returned to them, the Gazelle River would find its original color again, and they would be able to go back to the lives they had lived before.
Forgetting the grief will take a little time.
That, of course, was the material and physical part. Healing what had been done to their hearts would take far longer.
Rimer looked over the Chungru who were weeping at Tiller's death, then turned his head. Raon was holding the shoulders of Garam, who was on his knees sobbing, and quietly comforting him.
He said he'd plant a flag.
Raon had declared that if Zieghart would not protect Doran Village, he would plant a flag with his own name on it. That vast presence, that will, had clenched Rimer's fist before he knew it, and raised the hair on his entire body.
They're alike.
Grandfather and grandson, sure enough—Raon and Glenn had the same temperament. If you looked closely, Raon was a little more of a reckless brute, but still.
Rimer smiled faintly. That kid is too good to stop at a squad, or even a division.
Among every talent Rimer had ever seen in Zieghart, Raon had the personality and the gift closest to a Family Head. Stack enough experience on him and he was the kind of boy who would ride the light wind itself and touch that sky.
"Squad Leader."
While Rimer was watching Raon come back, Burren approached.
"Hm?"
"Can we reach that kind of level too?"
The question was not Burren's alone. Marta, Runaan, and the entire Light Wind Squad were looking at him.
"You all know I don't pad my words, so I'll be honest. You can. But—"
Rimer nodded, smiling.
"Don't try to follow Raon. Let that kid go first. Watch his back, learn from it, and walk a path that's yours."
"Mm..."
"Your level is already on the fast side even among the Six Kings. One of the reasons is that you've been traveling with Raon, seeing and experiencing so much. Climb the stairs one at a time and you won't just reach that far—you'll go higher."
"Th-thank you."
"I'll work hard!"
He had not been trying to give them hope. He had only told them the truth. And yet every face in the Light Wind Squad brightened.
They even manufactured the hope themselves. It was a little funny—but Raon really was a born leader.
"Tsk."
"Mm..."
Marta frowned slightly. Runaan blinked, vacant. That was just how those two were, so he left them alone.
Rimer looked at the Light Wind swordsmen watching Raon and smiled, quiet and warm. Plenty of interesting things ahead. Old age was not going to be boring.
A wet slap of footsteps, and Raon and Garam climbed up onto the ship.
"Looks like you finished up here too."
Raon glanced over a deck with not a single pirate left on it and let out a short laugh.
"You're just late."
Rimer folded his arms and shrugged.
"That's right."
Wrath, who had been quiet until now, scowled as he climbed up onto the bracelet.
"You could have taken him down more easily and faster. Why did you drag it out so?"
He yawned, complaining that watching a fight of that level had been boring.
"I wanted to test a new sword technique."
Raon smiled faintly and tapped his blade. There were circumstances, too.
"Circumstances?"
Yeah. The harder the fight you win, the better the reward, right?
Just as Wrath had said, if he had simply fought to win, he could have broken Tiller faster and more easily. But he had not merely beaten Tiller. He had completely shattered the martial learning the man had mastered and forged a new sword technique out of it. The reward that would come soon would be far greater for it.
"Y-you dragged it out for the system's rewards?"
I didn't drag it out. I just fought a little harder.
"You sly bastard! Do you think stats come out of the ground if you dig?! They all belong to This King!"
I know.
He knew perfectly well, so he nodded.
"Wicked. Truly wicked. The real demon was you all along!"
Maybe.
"KRAAAAGH! This King wants to kill you! This King genuinely wants to kill you!"
Raon kept answering with that same unbothered slyness, and Wrath trembled all over as he burst into a scream.
"Raon."
While Raon was still needling Wrath, Rimer came over and held out a hand.
"Time to pay up."
"Pay up what?"
"You said you'd give me gold coins."
"I already did."
"Huh? When?"
"When you stole the Water God Stone, you pocketed the gold coins and the jewels too, didn't you?"
Raon tipped his head toward the space below the deck.
"H-how did you—"
Rimer forgot he was even supposed to lie. His mouth fell open.
"Pirates are predictable."
"No, that's an exception. You promised you'd give them to me!"
"I only ever said the words 'gold coins.'"
"Huh?"
Drool ran from Rimer's open mouth. He's right? Raon really had only said the words "gold coins." There had been no promise to give them anywhere.
"Y-you devil of a brat!"
"You demon-spawn of a child!"
One elf and one Demon King screamed at a single human, pouring out their outrage.
"Right. Since we're done, let's clean up quickly. First we smash this ship—"
Raon ignored them both and started giving orders. That was when a massive ship's horn bellowed from the north.
A black vessel of magnificent size cut through the rough waves of the Rable River and revealed itself.
"Why is that ship here..."
Rimer's eyes flew wide at the sight of the black ship.
"What is that?"
"Dark Cloud."
The sound of him swallowing dryly was audible.
"It's Dark Cloud... the second battleship of the South-North Alliance."