Chapter 106

Chapter 106

***

All they could see were streaks of a flash. Sometimes drawing great arcs, sometimes striking down in straight lines. It literally seemed as if flashing light was embroidering the dark night.

When people witness too astonishing a spectacle, they tend to simply be overwhelmed by the situation and the moment, and Caspar and Yulia were just like that.

They had no thoughts right now to hold awe and respect; they were simply overwhelmed.

Of course, for the enemies, disastrous results ensued. Scattering blood, collapsing corpses. The darkness of the night covered them like a shroud.

It seemed fierce yet relaxed, the flow from one movement to the next was like running water, but the swinging sword was like a blazing thunderbolt.

Simple and concise, yet softness and hardness, speed and slowness—contrasting elements were all melted into every single strike.

Rickart's sword absolutely could not be explained with words; it had to be seen with one's own eyes, and even seeing it wouldn't help one understand it.

But before that, to Caspar and Yulia's eyes, it looked horrifyingly beautiful. Was this truly swordsmanship? Was it not a painting?

Rickart swung the sword widely to the right, then raised it high over his head. Then, clenching his teeth, he smashed it down with all his might as if dragging it, completely ending Ringwald's uneasy remaining life.

A thunderbolt-like afterimage slashed diagonally downwards, though no thunder accompanied it.

Ringwald, who had been completely devastated and stood blankly in shock, was sliced from his right shoulder to his left waist without being able to offer a single resistance. Confronting the ultimate Sword Master right before one's eyes and holding the will to fight back was truly a difficult task.

Hot blood and organs poured out in a rush.

Rickart grabbed the hair of his slumped, severed body part and lifted it. Around him were corpses, and enemies still alive, but he didn't care about any of them. He had overwhelmed them with an aura, something far beyond it.

Indeed, the enemies who were still alive were trembling so violently they couldn't take any action. It was as if they were witnessing a ghost or a demon.

Rickart left the castle holding Ringwald's hair. Because of the pooled blood on the floor, splashing sounds accompanied every step.

Sensing something serious was happening inside the castle, the swordsmen had gathered around it, but their eyes widened as large as saucers when Rickart emerged carrying Ringwald's body part with its arm dangling.

Rickart unceremoniously tossed Ringwald's gruesome body part before them and spoke holding his flaming sword in one hand.

The dark night, flames blazing from the blade. The flickering golden flames dimly illuminated only the side of Rickart's face, making him look like a figure no human in reality could resemble.

He spoke.

"Ringwald is dead. I killed him. If you do not leave this place before daybreak, you will all die too."

It was a declaration and a sentence. One versus many? No such thing existed here. The one who overwhelmed the crowd to show mercy was not the many, but the individual.

It wasn't a matter of fighting against a majority and surviving; it clearly demonstrated that he held the power of life and death over them. And everyone clearly realized that.

Above all, the scent of blood spread far in the dead of night, making those looking at Rickart feel even more chilling dread.

"What are you standing around blankly for? Aren't you going to get lost? Get the hell out! You bugs!"

When Rickart shouted loudly, everyone jumped in surprise and began to move frantically. They hurriedly grabbed what they had plundered and scattered, running away.

They were originally those kinds of people. Always ready to flee when the situation turned.

However, pimps and merchants who conducted business targeting the thugs hid themselves tactfully among the houses. Now that the ruler seemed to have changed, they intended to offer bribes and continue business.

Because they were like symbiotes, Rickart didn't bother chasing them out.

Anyway, having resolved the situation, Rickart sheathed his sword. Then he returned to the castle and entered the inner keep.

Because the inner keep wasn't very spacious, it didn't take long to find the wealth Ringwald had accumulated.

Whatever the thugs plundered was merely a handful compared to what Ringwald had taken. All the genuine treasures were in his possession.

Rickart called Caspar and Yulia, who were still standing outside the inner keep, completely dazed.

"Find a carriage or a cart outside. Let's load this up and take it with us."

Then, Caspar and Yulia moved according to Rickart's words without any cognitive ability, like puppets connected to strings. Their expressions were completely absent-minded.

They brought packhorses from the stable and yoked them, and went back and forth to the inner keep loading sacks of food and treasures. Rickart helped too.

Taking all livestock like cows, pigs, and chickens as well, they left the castle with the wagons, stepping on the blood-mixed mud.

There were thugs who scattered and fled, while others still stood blankly and watched. No one stepped forward to stop them or avenge the boss. They merely stared blankly.

Thus, just the three of them shattered the Sword Brotherhood and leisurely departed. Of course, Rickart practically resolved it all by himself.

Rickart held the reins in one hand and a torch in the other, leading the way. The dark night offered only a few meters of visibility, but since it was a single path, it was fine.

It was only in the cool dawn that Rickart, Caspar, and Yulia returned to the village where the group stayed. However, there were corpses here too.

Unlike the castle which had become a messy sea of blood, here the corpses were laid neatly side by side next to a building and covered with cloth.

Caspar and Yulia, despite their fatigue, suddenly felt scared thinking something had gone wrong, but that wasn't the case.

Marie stood with her arms crossed, wearing a sword at her waist, looking in the direction Rickart had left. Because Rickart came from a different direction, she didn't spot him beforehand.

"Marie!"

When Rickart shouted loudly, Marie, who had stayed up waiting for her husband, quickly turned her head. And ran over to embrace him in her arms. It hadn't even been a day in terms of time.

"Why are you staying up waiting?"

"It didn't seem like something that would take long, so it was weird..."

"Sorry. I should have sent one of the kids."

"No, they were probably busy with work too."

"Are the people okay? Whose bodies are those?"

"Just guys who occasionally come by to torment the people here, so I killed them."

"Good job. I also killed that Ringwald guy and gathered some things, so I arrived a bit late."

As a conversation between a married couple, it was a bit strange, but they were fine and unharmed, so it was okay.

Then, a loud rooster's crow was heard from the wagon Rickart had brought. It was a sound signaling the dawn.

"Anyway, I'm glad. I told our group to share some food with the people here because they seemed so starved. I felt a bit sorry because they seemed reluctant but went along with it anyway."

"Good job. You did well."

Rickart stroked Marie's shoulder and praised her.

Even if the whole world hated and opposed it, as long as Rickart acknowledged it, Marie felt good. Of course, things had worked out well too.

The people also started waking up slowly, and the person standing watch had already woken up and was staring at the enormous amount of supplies Rickart brought.

Because they had lived without eating properly, the light returned to their long dead eyes.

Rickart distributed all of it to the people. Without keeping anything for himself. Because it originally belonged to them.

Seeing such actions from Rickart and Marie, Bremen and the other migrants heading to the Eastern Frontier felt strange emotions.

Taking care of oneself and one's family was hard enough, but helping others—was that even possible?

It felt as if sweet rain had fallen on hearts like parched earth, causing fresh sprouts to bloom. A faint swell of emotion tickled their chests.

Though everyone harbored demons in their hearts, angels resided there as well, and it felt as if angels long dead were awakening.

Helping others even in the midst of suffocating hardship. It was a reminder that even in this wild world, they were human.

"By the way, will these people be safe after we leave?"

Still seemingly holding some concern in a corner of his heart, Bremen asked. Rickart spoke with a bitter feeling.

"All I can do is give them some breathing room. It would be better if they moved somewhere else, but they probably won't leave this place."

Rickart wasn't someone who protected commoners. He had no obligation to do so. He simply intended to hand over the weapons seized from the enemies into their hands before leaving with the group.

"If someone recklessly tries to take your property, band together and resist. As long as you have the courage, you should be able to fend off average stragglers."

He wasn't sure if this was the right decision, but it was the maximum consideration the man named Rickart could offer. And that consideration was deeply conveyed to those who had been harshly exploited under Ringwald.

Then, the people who hadn't even had the energy left to be wary of outsiders finally opened their hearts.

An old man with a hunched, wrinkled back barely managed to approach Rickart and asked.

"What is your name, O Hero?"

"Hmm..."

He didn't mind just telling them his name, but Rickart unnecessarily rolled his eyes in thought before smiling playfully and speaking.

"Just think of us as Caspar and Yulia of the Viola Clan."

"Is that so. Please, do accept this."

Even naked and starving people have human hearts, and they expressed their gratitude.

Helping someone and expressing gratitude. The meaning lay in the act itself; the process or outcome might not have been that important.

What the old man, who seemed to be the village chief, offered out of gratitude was a fairly well-preserved gold bracelet. Given that he hadn't sold it even on the brink of starvation, it must have been an extremely precious treasure.

The bracelet was shaped like a ring twisted like a rope, but the ends didn't touch; rather, they featured intricately carved dragon heads looking at each other.

"It's a Viking bracelet."

Marie, watching from the side, said.

Viking referred to the Northmen from the past when they were invaders. Now they settled in the Empire, assimilated, or mainly lived by trading.

There were still rumors that some coastal areas were noisy, but compared to when the Empire was first established, it was practically non-existent.

And the Viking bracelet was an item given when a boy was recognized as a warrior, or recognized as a son by a warrior father. They never took it off for life, and considered having it taken by an enemy more shameful than death.

He didn't know why such an item was here, and its meaning had also faded over a long time, but Rickart gladly received it and put it on his arm in front of the old man. It fit perfectly.

"Thank you. I'll wear it well."

Rickart said with a smile. And again, he set off on the road. The oxen loaded with luggage walked steadfastly.

After walking for hours and reaching the intersection, they saw the corpses that had died the day before by Rickart, Caspar, and Yulia.

As if suddenly remembering something upon seeing them, Caspar asked Rickart.

"But um, why did you tell them our names?"

"Hmm? What?"

"To that old man in the village earlier. The truth is, we didn't do anything."

Then Rickart smiled cruelly and said.

"Becoming famous isn't a good thing. There are challengers who aim for your name and come at you. Of course, on Mount Kaits I benefited a bit because of that, but it's really annoying. So, I didn't tell him your names for your benefit, but to put pressure on you."

"......"

"If there's anyone who picks a fight or provokes you for no reason while walking on the road, just think, 'Ah, this person came to gain fame by killing me,' and accept it."

Fame was like two sides of a coin. While it allowed one to gain social benefits, one could also become a target.

Especially getting a name among swordsmen meant constantly being required to prove oneself. That proof meant duels or fights.

Since Rickart had suffered for a while because of that, he only considered fame cumbersome. So he just passed it onto the two greenhorn juniors.

If Caspar and Yulia were known to have killed the boss of the Ringwald Sword Brotherhood and dissolved the group, they could gain immense fame for greenhorns, but if they failed to match that fame with corresponding skills, they could conversely become massive laughingstocks. If they unluckily met a powerful challenger, they could even die.

As a bonus, it could also smear the clan's prestige. However, isn't life inherently multifaceted?

"You must be tired, but let's go just a bit further and rest. Take a nap. You worked hard. You did well."

Was it because things wrapped up nicely, or was this his true intention? When praise came from Rickart's mouth, Caspar felt overwhelmed with emotion, and his eyes reddened.

It might be because he couldn't sleep, became mentally exhausted, and his body was physically tired, but when someone who seemed like they would absolutely never give praise finally gives praise, the so-called effect is exceptional.

Yulia closed her eyes tight, bowed her head, and cried steadily.

Seeing that, Marie's eyes widened and she asked Rickart.

"How hard did you push the kids for them to be like this?"

"I didn't do anything?"

"Ricky, did you go on about risking lives and whatnot again?"

Rickart thought inwardly, 'Can she even eavesdrop on conversations from a thousand miles away?' feeling a prick of conscience, but he shook his head.

Marie didn't withdraw her gaze of suspicion and said.

"I said it's enough just to be able to protect one's own body. Not everyone has to become a Sword Master. Do you know how much I suffered because of that, shouting at the kids like that?"

"I told you I didn't do anything. And they aren't kids. How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"See, they're already adults. Think about it. When Marie, you, and I, and the others were even younger..."

"The world was still dangerous back then and now, but back then we had no fence. Now it's different. We were cornered and had no other choice. But now? We can't force the methods we used back then."

"...They'll only become weak if they stay inside the fence. Then why do they carry swords? If you're going to do it, you have to do it properly. You and Bori have gone soft."

"Here we go again, being stubborn."

Rickart also had a stubborn personality, so he didn't argue further or continue the conversation and simply kept his mouth firmly shut.

The temper that hadn't changed his mind no matter how much Bori and Marie criticized him when writing the swordsmanship manual hadn't gone anywhere.

Marie felt like laughing because Rickart's sulking behavior was cute. Back then, he was resolute enough to grab the blade and try to stab his own heart, but now, even though he didn't break his stubbornness, he would back down a step. Only for Marie.

However, when the atmosphere suddenly turned into Rickart getting scolded, Caspar and Yulia tactfully averted their gaze and stayed quiet.

Following the path past the border of Rothheim, there was a large oak tree sitting alone in the middle of a field.

Fortunately, no one was hung upon it, and it was merely providing cool shade for exhausted travelers.

The group decided to rest there and have a meal. Caspar and Yulia could finally grab a short shut-eye after staying up all night.

And while they had been forgetting it due to their extreme physical and mental exhaustion, the events of the previous night naturally resurfaced amidst their drowsiness.

The flaming sword, the sword strikes like thunderbolts. Only afterimages remained flickering before their eyes, and it wasn't clear what exactly they had seen. What was certain was that it was a realm on an entirely different level.

Realizing there was only a three-year age gap between themselves and Rickart, a sense of self-reproach washed over them.

Simultaneously, the demon of sleep rushed in, and their master's words echoed in their ears. For the first time, the master's words seeped into their hearts. It meant not to be arrogant and to be humble.

There are no geniuses in the world. Except Ricky.