Chapter 115

Chapter 115

***

Hartmann, whom Rickart had observed from the side, was a taciturn and reliable man. As a father, and as a husband.

Of course, he too wasn't likely a perfect human being. Why, for what reason he murdered a priest couldn't be known, but because of it the entire family's path of hardship began.

Therefore if asked whether all the decisions and choices Hartmann made were perfect, they wouldn't be.

But one thing certain was that he wasn't simply a woodcutter but an excellent father, and possessed the heart of a warrior.

So Rickart respected and mourned him as a father, as a warrior.

Then what's left now, is it revenge? To honor him? That wasn't it.

To speak honestly, he simply wanted to kill the Rubens Clan because they were disgusting and abhorrent.

Thus, he didn't want to make excuses putting forward justifications like revenge or mourning. I simply want to kill them. That's all. Thus he was a demon.

The purest form of murderous intent didn't blossom from anger or hatred, but simply from enjoyment.

Excitement and ecstasy over committing a massacre swelled up. Thinking about it made him as anxious as a drooling dog. Rickart quietly observed that pure form of dangerous blade.

By doing so, he could extract only the power without being swayed by those emotions.

Staring into the abyss with his head bowed, Rickart opened his eyes. And a golden aura surged in his eyes.

Thoughts from the past arose. The days he roamed the Empire alone while wanted, committing massacres.

The southeastern Pacina region of the Empire was an area with many forests and strangely shaped rocks, and the Rubens Clan's headquarters was also built atop a sheer rocky area.

Its scale wasn't very large, but the surrounding terrain was so incredibly rugged that as a natural fortress, it seemed impossible to capture no matter how many troops swarmed it.

Near the castle was a small village surrounded by forest, where surprisingly quite a few people lived.

The clan didn't touch them because having people living nearby anyway made it easier to obtain and be supplied with things from the outside.

Though the people's lives weren't affluent, they didn't seem particularly exploited or plundered.

However, the villagers knew that something eerie and terrible happened in that castle. Everyone simply lived keeping their mouths shut out of fear, anxious day by day.

It was late afternoon. Before the sun was dyed red. A man wearing a red cape and a hood walked across the village.

While an old man was passing by carrying some carrots pulled from the garden in a basket, he ended up dropping one. The carrot rolled 도르르 and stopped at the stranger's feet.

He picked up the carrot and handed it to the old man. Receiving the carrot, the old man froze completely upon seeing the burning golden eyes under the hood.

Whether the old man did or not, the strange man walked straight towards the place where the castle was. The old man watched his back for a long, long time.

The path the stranger walked became a slight incline at a certain point. And a narrow single path continued straight to the castle. The path, lacking even a railing, was a deep precipice overlooking below.

Without fear, he passed the path and arrived at the castle gate. The castle gate was not closed, there were simply two vigilant sentries.

The two sentries stared blankly as a strange man walked up alone. They couldn't in their wildest dreams think he came to do something to them.

Hidden by the cape his attire was hard to scrutinize precisely, but it was clear he wore a sword at his waist.

"Hey, this isn't a place you can roam around freely."

"Did you come to join?"

Among wandering swordsmen, there were often cases where they sought out clans to join. Because no matter how excellent one's skills, it was hard to survive alone in the wild without belonging to a group.

But without a word, the man walked silently and stood before them. The castle gate was as dark as evening due to deep shadows, and it was soon time to light the braziers.

"Mister, please don't cause trouble. I'm warning you."

When the stranger approached without any hesitation, the sentries also felt somewhat flustered and scared. Just in case, as it were. Their tone itself changed.

Pressing his hood deeply so that only about his lower jaw was visible, the man spoke quietly. It was Rickart's voice.

"Blow the emergency whistle."

"......?"

"I won't tell you twice."

Instantly a flash flared. The sentry shut his eyes tightly. Hearing a heavy thump like something dropping, he opened his eyes again.

Looking back at his comrade dumbfounded, he didn't have a head. Collapsed, blood sprouted continuously from the cross-section. His spine chilling, his body stiffened.

Rickart didn't say anything, lifting his flaming sword slowly and pointing the sword tip at the whistle hanging from his neck.

Wondering what kind of situation this was, the sentry didn't have the mental capacity to comprehend the current situation. So in a dazed state, he blew the whistle hard.

Beeeeep-!

The ear-piercing sound echoed inside the castle, and the one who blew the whistle died immediately. With a thudding collapse, two corpses sprawled at the castle gate.

Holding his sword, Rickart entered the inner courtyard of the castle.

Yet even though the whistle sounded clearly, it took quite a long time for the emergency response team to come out.

At first about five or six people came out, but upon seeing the corpses sprawled at the gate, they retreated back to the quarters startled out of their wits. And then they brought more personnel out.

About twenty personnel hastily rushed out to the courtyard surrounding Rickart, while from inside the inner keep, looking like a mansion, they merely observed outside through windows.

"Who are you! State your name!"

"Ricky."

Then, because those who knew knew and those who didn't didn't, there was a slight murmur. Could it be that guy from the past? You know, the genius swordsman, Red Cape. But why now? Such whispers brushed past Rickart.

Meanwhile, a guy who seemed to be the leader of the emergency response team yelled with an ostensibly scary face.

"What is your business! This is a clear provocation towards our Rubens Clan!"

Rickart raised his head. Then from under the shade of the deeply pressed hood, his blazing golden eyes were revealed.

The moment they met those eyes, the murmuring completely stopped.

"Without leaving a single one behind, I came to kill you all."

As the death sentence-like words fell, despite the castle interior already being quiet, it felt as though the surrounding flora and fauna held their breath too.

According to normal common sense, it was an impossible situation. For someone to come alone, to fight against a clan that managed to survive in this harsh world.

Not even sabotaging clan businesses but simply invading recklessly was something unheard of.

Thus people were dumbfounded and bewildered, while simultaneously feeling fearful like 'is this for real?'.

Just then, people emerged from the inner keep. It was people covering their lower jaws with muffler-like things and wearing coifs.

Just as clans had ranks like apprentices, trainees, formal disciples, formal clan members, those who came out of the inner keep were those who earnestly trained the Rubens Clan's unique Mana Drive.

Perhaps knowing it was shameful themselves, they were dressed to hide their somewhat distorted skeletal structures.

One of them spoke toward Rickart.

"I still remember the incident 4 years ago. How you inflicted massive damages on our clan, and presented us with humiliation. Since then, we haven't forgotten the grudge for a single moment."

"I don't particularly want to go through the trouble of identifying rights and wrongs now, but during the sword tournament, wasn't it you guys who ambushed me first using strange poison?"

"You killing our Clan Master when you were a student was first. Lorenz, remember?"

It was self-centered to the point of absurdity. The ones who ambushed Rickart and his students passing through the forest to support the adventurer request was Lorenz and his underlings.

But to hold a grudge because they counterattacked and killed them. He wondered how such complete bastards could exist in the world.

However, Rickart didn't want to talk about such topics anymore.

"No. Why would I remember such trash."

Saying so, he himself dashed in like an arrow first.

Slipping smoothly like flowing water with low posture, he passed by and sliced with his sword held in one hand as he passed. The opponent tried to dodge but one leg was sliced off anyway.

As the situation unfolded in an instant, many personnel nearby rushed Rickart in a heap. But naturally, more personnel got tangled among themselves.

Towards those fools, Rickart swung his sword while spinning his body like a storm, and truly like a lie three or four people's torsos were cut off simultaneously.

It was an unbelievable sword strike. But such attacks burst forth unceasingly.

As if a skilled chef cleaning fish, swinging the sword a few times instantly piled up corpses.

Seeing the shocking sight some simply slumped down right there, while the slightly better ones turned their backs and fled everywhere throughout the castle. Thus those not up to par were cleared out in one sweep.

However, the muffler-wearing people couldn't escape even if they wanted to. Because their everything was in this castle. Not just money, but research materials and specially processed mana hearts.

Thus they desperately fought against Rickart, but they didn't particularly have a method either.

As if an invisible curtain of death was spread out, whenever one entered the range their limbs were unconditionally chopped or they couldn't escape death.

Their tactic of surrounding in all directions and hitting and running, and the Rubens Clan's characteristic nimble movements didn't work either.

It was a level that far exceeded the Sword Masters they knew. How could this be?

Rickart's eyes weren't directed at the opponent. He was always looking towards the next opponent. And unleashed an unstoppable sword that cut anything.

Speed, strength, technique, judgment; genius and experience combined emitted fearsome power. Without any form, actually advancing every moment. Because all of this was enjoyable.

Among the enemies some abandoned research materials and everything else to prioritize living and fled, and right after Rickart slashed one person he threw his sword and accurately pierced their back.

But doing so left him empty-handed, and capitalizing on that brief moment the enemies rushed at Rickart.

Right then a golden aura concentrated on Rickart's hand, and striking the enemies' blades with his bare hand like a sword, they haphazardly shattered away.

Claaang-!

And exactly like that he grabbed one person and pierced through their heart with his hand.

But he didn't pull that hand backward again, he pulled it upward. Tearing through the ribs and slicing the shoulder on its way out, the opponent dropped to his knees with his mouth wide open and collapsed.

In Rickart's hand, a living heart was held. What was surprising wasn't the beating heart, but Rickart mercilessly smiling while holding it.

"I hear you like this sort of thing?"

With that he squeezed his hand tightly, crushing the heart, and casually tossed it on the ground.

"Come and eat it like a dog."

Then even those who gave up their humanity while training backed away, unable to hide their shock at the sight.

Silence fell once again. Did he just wield a sword of light with bare hands? Unbelievable. An impossible feat.

In the inner courtyard of the castle, brutally sliced corpses were haphazardly sprawled around, and the ground was murky with seeping blood. The late afternoon sun was already gradually turning red.

Committing the massacre, Rickart felt an unbearable pleasure rushing over him.

Though he said he controlled himself by observing his internal mind, it was hard to suppress even the laughter leaking out.

Perhaps it was skepticism regarding this whole farce including himself, or perhaps disillusionment. If such things could become humor, that is.

Amidst broken weapons and horrific corpses, Rickart slumped his shoulders and laughed. And shortly throwing his head back, let out a maniacal laugh.

"Huhu, huhu...... Ahahahahahaha!"

The enemies completely lost their will to fight, merely blankly staring at the loudly laughing Rickart with utterly shocked faces.

It was a fear of death that was absolutely uncontrollable and undeniable. Everyone felt like encountering a nightmare in reality.

Demons needed no reasons. Grudges, seeking power, those sorts of things.

Such reasons are mere self-excuses, and even if they abandoned humanity, they were only trash incapable of becoming a monster.

A true demon borders on the innocence of a child.

Rickart walked slowly and pulled out his sword stuck far away. Everyone merely watched, no one dared to even breathe aloud, nor prevent him.

Rickart walked toward the castle gate and brought his sword down, cutting the thick ropes. Then the portcullis crashed down, closing the gate entirely.

Normally escape routes are sealed to prevent intruders from fleeing, but now it was the opposite. Right now, this place was a slaughterhouse.

Looking back at the Rubens Clan people, Rickart was smiling, his white teeth exposed.

The stench of blood and iron vibrated. But one thing was still missing. That was fire. How could a festival lack a fire.

Rickart dashed towards the enemies again. Then everyone fled. Into the inner keep, into the quarters, running away as if playing hide-and-seek.

But that was a mistake. Because he was going to burn it all down.

Fire and steel, blood, and death. Rickart handled those best. And he was the person who learned more thoroughly than anyone how to become a demon in order to survive hell.

What the Rubens Clan researched so far, their treasures, he had absolutely no interest in. Only massacre and death existed.

At some point, cries begging for life echoed intermittently throughout the castle. Or screams filled with pain while burning up. It was wonderful music to someone.

The old man tending his garden in the nearby village watched the castle go up in flames from afar. The entire village stood blankly and watched.

At sunset, with a red twilight, pitch-black smoke billowed up touching the sky, and the smell of burning carried to the village.

And from where the castle was, a strange man wearing a hood walked out. Only about an hour or two had passed since he first arrived here. That was the time it took for a powerful clan to be wiped out.

When he quietly passed by the village, everyone merely watched without saying a word, and the old man asked.

"Are you an angel, or a devil?"

Looking back slightly at the old man, Rickart answered. Not with blazing eyes like before. Just clear hazel eyes.

"Well, I suppose it's exactly as you see it, old man."

And walking back the way he came, he disappeared.

The Rubens Clan headquarters burned unceasingly for two days and two nights. There were no survivors, and later rumors spread recounting unbelievable tales like an angel of death descending and dropping firebolts.

Rickart defined himself as a demon, but it seemed he appeared that way to the old man's eyes.