Chapter 111

Chapter 111

***

It was a mountain pass with almost no grass, overgrown only with broken stones. Was it a quarry in the past? Well. Anyway, the crunchy sound of footsteps could be heard exceptionally well with every step.

The three swordsmen subtly widened the distance between themselves. They seemed intent on surrounding Rickart, while also remaining wary of Rickart's group further away.

However, from Rickart's perspective, there was no need to wait for them. So before they could form their structure, he swung his sword.

The flaming sword struck the left and immediately slashed down to the right. The enemy on the left had his head sent flying, while the enemy on the right had both his arms cut off. The events that occurred in the blink of an eye were like a single spark bursting instantly.

The person in the middle quickly backed away. Rickart's gaze accurately tracked him.

Having retreated far away, his expression stiffened, seemingly very surprised by the events that unfolded in an instant.

Seeing that he backed away in that short moment meant his level was not ordinary. However, in the world of life-and-death struggle, skill was always relative.

"You......"

"Let's not make things bothersome for each other."

Rickart said while swinging his sword fiercely with one hand, confirming the kill on the one who was suffering with both arms cut off.

Two corpses, pools of blood flowing over the mountain's arid gravel field. No blood stained the blade; only the holy flames burned brightly.

It differed from the subtle light unique to Sword Masters. Rickart's sword blazed brightly with golden flames. Thus, the opponent who witnessed it directly with their own eyes was left speechless. What is that?

Step.

Rickart took a step forward to finish things off. At that, the survivor immediately turned around and ran away.

Rickart also ran to kill him, but instead of running away towards the mountain pass, he suddenly threw himself off the cliff. What? Is he trying to kill himself?

Standing at the edge of the cliff and looking down, like a bird with his cape fluttering, he lightly stepped on a protruding part of the cliff and leapt again.

Rickart was quite surprised. But even amidst his surprise, he picked up a stone by his feet and threw it with all his might at the fleeing bastard.

Then the enemy, who was lightly stepping off rocky outcroppings a couple of times while fleeing, looked back.

He quickly twisted his body to dodge the stone nearing his eyes, so the stone Rickart threw merely hit his shoulder.

"Ack!"

With a short scream, he fell. Although having descended almost the entire cliff, he didn't die.

He staggered up, looked up once at Rickart looking down from the top of the cliff, and limped away as he fled. One of his arms dangled loosely.

Rickart looked at the fleeing enemy with a dumbfounded face. What was that movement just now? He truly seemed to fly like a bird. Is that possible with a human body?

No matter how skilled Rickart was, he couldn't perform such an acrobatic feat, so he had no choice but to let him slip away. The enemy disappeared into the nearby forest.

"What a funny guy. Jumping off a cliff."

Marie's voice was heard from behind.

Turning around, she was collecting the two swords from the dead enemies. Neither of the swords had been properly used in the fight with Rickart, so they were practically brand new.

"No, he survived."

"Huh?"

"He flew like a bird and then just walked away. Giving him a stone to the shoulder though."

"No way. Don't joke around."

Marie approached Rickart as if she couldn't believe it. And looking down from the side of the cliff, though it wasn't a sheer drop, it was high enough to kill a falling person.

Yet, the corpse that should have been there was nowhere to be seen. Rickart and Marie stared at each other with dumbfounded faces. It was a bizarre occurrence.

Amidst the bewilderment, Rickart returned to the group and informed them of the facts. Marie gave the two swords obtained from the dead enemies to Becca and Roy.

"As you saw, I killed two, but one escaped alive. They might bring their friends and it could get dangerous. What should we do?"

"They didn't seem like common bandits; did they say where they were from or who they were?"

Bremen asked.

"The Rubens Clan. Have you heard of them?"

Rickart knew them well, but didn't know their recent status. Just as the Viola Clan had changed a lot in four years, they might have undergone some changes as well.

At the mention of the Rubens Clan, Bremen's complexion darkened.

"......Good heavens."

"Why, what's wrong?"

"Every clan has a different modus operandi. As you know, the Viola Clan is rather serious and doesn't torment commoners. However, Rubens will commit any atrocity for their influence and money. Buying and selling people, running brothels and gambling dens, assassinations, usury. No one who touches their business survives. Even if they are nobles."

They had essentially transitioned into a thieves' guild, reaching a level where they could no longer be called a clan. Of course, they were things done in the shadows, but if Bremen knew, anyone who knew anything would know.

In fact, it was a matter of choice. How to use the military force one possessed. Back when the Imperial Family was strong, they somewhat stayed within their lanes, but now they seemed to act arbitrarily like unchained dogs.

"Is it safe to assume crossing this pass puts us in their sphere of influence?"

Marie asked.

"No. We're already in their sphere of influence."

"......"

"There's a way to turn back towards Beringen, but it would take a week. And that path isn't safe either. For now, to retreat, we'd have to go back the way we came."

"Or conversely, pass through quickly."

"Yes."

It was one of the two. Retreat or move forward. As always, it was a choice between those two.

They say one should know when to advance and when to retreat, if only they knew, life would be truly easy. The problem was they didn't know.

Then Hartmann spoke. He usually just followed Bremen's and Rickart's opinions, but for the first time.

"Let's move forward. If anything dangerous happens, I will protect my family. Teacher and Madam, please defeat the enemies with peace of mind."

Actually, Hartmann also knew. That Rickart and Marie alone could kill most enemies.

So if Rickart and Marie were alone, it wouldn't be something to worry about, and he didn't want to become a stumbling block making them hesitate because of his family.

Rickart hesitated whether to accept that sentiment or not.

"I can fight too. I won't hold you back, Master."

"Me too."

Roy and Becca said.

When people learn a bit of exercise or martial arts, they naturally gain confidence. It seemed the same for these kids. And having obtained real swords, they looked somewhat excited.

At his disciples' words, a smile spread across Rickart's lips. Roughly ruffling Roy's hair, he said.

"Don't get cocky and stay behind your father."

"I have some worries, but if you've decided, I will follow."

"We should be prepared, but it might turn out fine. They seemed to have urgent business elsewhere. They said they were looking for their friend."

"Hmm?"

Rickart looked at Marie and spoke.

"They said Bori stole the clan's secret arts."

"Eh?"

"If Bori did it, he must have a reason."

"That is true."

"Then since it's decided, let's not delay and move on."

Rickart and the group ultimately crossed the mountain pass. Going downhill made their footsteps light, but their hearts were subtly anxious.

The place the group was walking in was a region called 'Pacina', one of the southeastern parts of the Empire. Characterized by basins, numerous rivers, lakes, and dense cool forests. Flat land was scarce, making it unsuitable for farming.

There were many oddly-shaped rocky mountains jutting out everywhere, which, mingling with the forest, created breathtaking scenery.

At the edge of the forest, the group walked along the river. From deep within the forest, the sound of woodpeckers could be heard.

The river, like a stream, wasn't very deep, but it was clear enough to see the bottom entirely. Seeing people, the minnows hid under fallen leaves and in the crevices of stones.

After walking along the river for about half a day, they saw a swarm of crows gathered on the riverbank. As the group approached, some scattered in flight, while others didn't go far, simply stepping back to watch.

Pulling back the curtain of crows, as expected, revealed corpses. There were about ten or so, with hardly any retaining limbs or heads properly attached; judging by the degree of decomposition and damage by animals, they were no more than a few days old. The cause of death was hard to ascertain.

"At the very least, they weren't killed by wild beasts. Seeing as all their clothes are stripped. I don't see any human tools nearby either."

Rickart said. It meant they were killed and swept clean. Not a grudge, but traces of typical robbers.

"The Pacina region is also an area where peasant uprisings were severe. Moreover, right next to it is the Adelorn Kingdom. Seeing the countless starving refugees and mercenaries, it's roughly imaginable."

A place wholly unmanaged and uncontrolled; in a word, it meant a lawless zone. The Rubens Clan wasn't the problem, but the outlaws themselves. The Rubens Clan was merely one among those outlaws.

Should we have chosen a different path? No, everywhere would probably be similar. It was simply that the path I walk is the hardest.

Hartmann's family didn't show much fear or tremble upon seeing the corpses. Because they had seen many. However, they fully acknowledged they were currently in a dangerous place.

After refilling their water upstream from where the corpses were, the group continued walking. The curtain of crows covered the unsightly things once more.

Walking down the river for about half a day, a city appeared. They wondered if there was a city in such a place, but functionally it was a city of crime.

No city walls, not even a notable wooden palisade, and most buildings were made of wood, giving the impression of having been hastily assembled.

Fugitives, vagrants, thieves, robbers, thugs, mercenaries; it seemed like a place that had gathered all the delinquents of the world.

However, surprisingly, even in such a place, there were people conducting business. They primarily dealt in stolen goods, sold alcohol, or were pimps.

Wondering what could possibly exist in such a place, surprisingly enough, wealth overflowed. Things plundered from everywhere.

It was a lawless world, yet seemingly with its own rules. While one side was incredibly filthy, another side was incredibly neat. Here, the rich were kings, and money was god.

"It feels like we've reached the entrance to hell."

Bremen said. Having only come this way long ago during his mercenary days, he didn't seem to know it had changed this much either.

Since pitching a tent and staying here seemed very dangerous, the group looked for a suitable inn. Because running an inn in such a place meant practically guaranteeing a certain degree of safety. Of course, an 'adequate degree', not guaranteeing safety 'completely'.

However, there was no need to deliberately look for an inn. Because there was exactly only one inn.

Like a greatly expanded Norse longhouse, there was one very large building, and there was nowhere else offering lodging but here.

There were doors in multiple places, and people actively moved in and out. And around them lay people sprawled out, drunk or beaten and simply hoping to die.

Because there were so many different kinds of people, nobody paid any attention to the group.

Not knowing if it was okay to enter or what, they went inside anyway. As expected, there were a lot of people and it was bustling. It was chaotic with people drinking, singing, and shouting.

On one side, an impromptu fighting pit had formed. No one stopped the people engaged in fistfights, bets were placed, and if someone lost consciousness, they were just thrown outside. Live or die.

In the center was a long charcoal brazier, and people were cooking anything and everything by placing flat stones or iron plates over it. Mostly meat, vegetables, and fruit, but there were also things whose identity was impossible to decipher.

There were no separate staff. Replacing the charcoal, bringing food, everything was done autonomously by themselves.

Appetizing smells and disgusting smells mingled together, making one feel dizzy.

However, deep inside the building, there was something like a bar, and the people gathered there had a somewhat different atmosphere. Something relaxed that simply looking at them felt like they were the group ruling the place.

Rickart and the group barely pushed through the people and advanced towards them. Just in case, they pulled their weapons close to their bodies.

Rickart took the lead and approached the people near the bar.

"Who is the owner here?"

"......"

At that, people who were continuously sipping alcohol or playing cards turned their heads and stared. No one answered.

"Do you have a room suitable for seven people?"

Rickart asked again. At that, a slender-eyed man answered.

"You should have just asked that, why look for the owner? Running your mouth recklessly here might result in serious injury."

"I will take care of that myself, so refrain from speaking recklessly."

"Huh, seems you can handle a sword over there?"

"Enough to protect my own body. Tell me the price."

"Let's see... Are the people behind you your companions? Oh, what is this, one is incredibly pretty? The other wench isn't too bad either. You the mother of the kids? Lend us those two wenches for about three days, and we'll offer the room for free."

"......"

Hartmann gripped his cloth-wrapped axe tightly, but as if Rickart had an eye on the back of his head, he raised a hand to stop him without even looking back.

Thugs were the kind to gently scratch at people's nerves and observe their reactions. Like a shark tapping a creature it's seeing for the first time to observe it, seeing if it bows down or not, if it's an easy target or not.

However, Rickart, coming from a knightly family, could not tolerate insults. This was different from an inability to suppress anger. It was a natural behavioral pattern. If someone insulted him, to answer it with life-risking retaliation to protect his honor was practically an obligation.

Especially, insulting Marie right before his eyes was tantamount to declaring oneself a mortal enemy to the end of times.

"Oh oh, look at this guy, boys. Looks like he's about to draw his sword?"

When Rickart glared coldly, the slender-eyed guy looked back at his companions and said. At that, his companions scowled and glared at Rickart.

Scratching with words and pressuring with force. Most ordinary people wouldn't be able to come to their senses at this point. They would either smile obsequiously, remain silent, or leave the place.

However, Rickart did none of the three. He didn't smile obsequiously, he didn't leave the place, and he didn't remain silent.

"One more word, and I'll kill you."

There was no need for many other words. That was it. Unlike the opponent who was sarcastically rambling, it perfectly conveyed a clear meaning.

By this point, the atmosphere changed somewhat. The inside of the large building was still bustling, but it was quiet around Rickart.

Marie, who had caught on in advance, pulled the kids back. And using her eyes and hand gestures, she gave instructions to Bremen and Hartmann. Meaning she intended to push back against a wall and fight or go outside if needed.

With Rickart coming out this strong, the slender-eyed man had to make a choice. Whether to back down slightly or keep pushing. He also felt pressured.

He wracked his brain. Trying to act as if he didn't care or wasn't bothered, trying to find words to preserve his pride. He couldn't take too long either. Because then he'd look scared.

Pretending to be unfazed after fiercely wracking his brain in a short time, the words he came up with were these.

"......One word."

Swoosh! Bam!

No sooner had the words dropped than something like a flash of lightning gleamed. Half of the slender-eyed man's skull was cut off. His tongue and lower teeth were laid bare for the world to see.

His body remained in the exact posture with one arm resting on the bar. Even with half his skull gone, he slowly tilted and collapsed.

The scabbard at Rickart's waist was empty. Only when the opponent collapsed heavily and bled on the floor did his companions realize that Rickart held a drawn sword in his hand.

"Y-You bastard......!"

"Hey guys! Ret is down!"

Only then did the surrounding companions realize, their eyes widening. And hurriedly taking out their weapons, they tried to rush at Rickart. Not daring to attack head-on, they seemed intent on surrounding him first.

However, as the sword was swung like a thunderbolt, several people sprayed blood from their necks all at once. Even though they all had different heights and were at different distances.

Rickart didn't stop and lightly leapt onto the bar holding his sword. The red cape fluttered, and the alcohol and food that had been on it poured out with a crash.

Rickart fiercely kicked a wooden bowl. Then Bam! The flying bowl hit someone right on the crown of their head. Simultaneously lowering his posture and swinging his sword left to right vigorously, three or four people slumped down each time.

It seemed like witnessing magic. Because they couldn't see him draw his sword, couldn't see him swinging it, and people collapsed spraying blood without even hearing a single scream.

Only then did the enemies become utterly terrified and back away wildly from Rickart. Slumping down or driven back to the wall, they looked up at Rickart with startled eyes.

Standing on top of the bar, Rickart realized something had changed. Wondering what it was, he turned around and found it had become quiet.

The interior of the building, which seemed several times larger than the longhouse, was dead quiet. It was as noisy as a marketplace just a moment ago.

Everyone was looking at Rickart. Their gazes were like an audience looking at an actor standing on stage.

Rickart spoke to the audience. He didn't have to shout loudly for everyone to hear.

"Who is the owner here?"

Then someone opened the door leading behind the bar and came out. Rickart looked back at him. He too looked up at Rickart. Their eyes met.

After a moment of silence flowed, he spoke.

"Uh... there's not exactly an owner here per se? This back room can only be used by the strongest person here, and for now, I'm the strongest."

Rickart found it both absurd and dumbfounding. A scoff escaped him repeatedly. Because the person saying he was the strongest was none other than Bori.