Chapter 120

Chapter 120

***

The moon looked down on the world with half-closed eyes, as if reading a boring book.

It was late spring. Except for the middle of the day, it was cool, and chilly when the night grew deep.

The enemies were blocking the entrance to Adelibari in a circle. The mercenaries standing guard there felt chilled and warmed themselves by the fire.

Loud laughter mingling with prostitutes could be heard from the encampment, along with the sound of things breaking and people ranting.

Resentment was melted into all those sounds. The resentment of exhausting field life and an all-or-nothing mindset.

Being a mercenary was one of the oldest professions in the world. As long as they were given money, they didn't discriminate between saving the world or assassinating innocent people.

The similarity between a demon and a mercenary was that they operated according to a contract, but the reason mercenaries couldn't become demons was that they didn't act strictly according to the contract.

Employers and mercenaries were always in a relationship of suspecting each other, and routinely betrayed each other in reality.

Like changing attitudes when entering and leaving the bathroom, not properly paying compensation to mercenaries who finished the job occurred, while conversely, many mercenaries took only the down payment and ran away.

Thus, employers and mercenaries often became sworn enemies. It was common for a sacred contract to become a mere scrap of paper.

One of the oldest professions in the world. An existence despised, and feared for a long time.

On the other hand, looking inside, mercenaries were also pitiful. Losing colleagues they grew attached to, used to being abandoned, suffering all sorts of dirty indignities, yet they didn't make excuses for themselves.

Rather than being used to being hated, they had no time to care. It was because while feeling they could die at any moment without it being strange, their attachment to life was also stronger than anyone else's.

Even these cruel hunting dogs had their own sorrows. Always mingling with prostitutes might be because they resembled each other.

A man walked toward them. On a night with a half moon, like a grim reaper. As if to put an end to that sorrow-filled life.

The mercenaries sitting by the fire trembling raised their heads and looked at the stranger. Because it was night they hadn't spotted him in advance, and he had already come close.

The young man wearing a red cape and chainmail asked them. The colorful firelight illuminated him dimly.

"What mercenary company are you guys?"

When Rickart asked, a mercenary pondered quietly and then answered.

"Um, wouldn't it be your mom's mercenary company?"

Shrinking his body from the cold, the mercenary abruptly spouted harsh words. Did he think someone was needlessly picking a fight? The funny part was that even then, they never even dreamed they would die.

Rickart let out a snicker.

"No personal hard feelings."

The blade slipped out of the scabbard, and golden flames erupted. Then the mercenaries, wondering if this was some magic trick or magic, just opened their eyes wide and stared.

The fully drawn blade sliced through the night's darkness in a flash. The moment their vision flashed, three or four mercenaries warming by the fire collapsed spraying blood all at once.

One of them collapsed into the campfire and sizzled. Being already dead, he couldn't even feel the excruciating pain of burning, said to be the most painful.

Not meaning condolences, but because it didn't look good anyway, Rickart pushed the corpse with his foot to separate it from the fire.

Another mercenary passing by nearby bent his upper body and stretched his head out to see what was going on.

Then realizing corpses were sprawling, he was frightened out of his wits. Whether returning from taking a leak, he was weaponless and not properly geared.

"Hey! Hey!"

When Rickart looked back at him with burning eyes, he was suddenly terrified and hurriedly ran away. And shouted.

"Intruder! Intruder!"

Rickart ignored him and walked toward the closest unit flag. Not running, but walking.

At the word intruder, people here and there stood up with puzzled faces. People who were sleeping, people making love, people rolling dice, people drunk, etc.

However, they didn't know how many intruders there were, or where they appeared from. So they had complacent thoughts like, surely not my side.

However, feeling anxious too, they came out of their tents and surveyed the surroundings.

One such person had the misfortune of getting caught. Rickart swung his sword and chopped his neck off, and pushed him back into the tent with his foot.

Then the mercenary inside was frightened out of his wits when his headless colleague collapsed backward. Fuck! What, the hell is this!

Everyone was just bustling around in confusion. So they grew the chaos themselves. Where's the intruder? Where is it?

Eventually the commander of the mercenary unit, having been tangled with prostitutes, belatedly put on his armor and came out.

"Don't make a fuss! Assemble by squad! You rotten bastards!"

Then he happened to make eye contact with Rickart approaching him. His gaze stuck precisely on the flaming sword.

As expected, whether the commander of the mercenary company had extraordinary intuition, he hurriedly threw his body into the barracks. Rickart tried to chase him, but ended up running into other mercenaries.

"Here he is!"

"The intruder is here!"

Everyone had their helmets on crooked or failed to wear one shoe properly, but in the meantime, they held their weapons. And unlike the Rubens Clan, they didn't recklessly try to engage in close combat.

Pi-yuuung-!

Piercing the darkness, an arrow brushed past Rickart's face. From this point Rickart also swiftly threw his body and first pulled out the unit flag next to the commander's barracks.

Seeing that, the mercenaries shouted.

"That bastard!"

"It's the Prince! The Prince has come!"

"Hey you son of a bitch! Put the flag down!"

The mercenaries, who had been checking Rickart from a distance in their own way, had their eyes roll back upon seeing him pull the unit flag.

So they couldn't endure it and swarmed in, but Rickart lowered his posture holding the sword in one hand and swung the sword widely to the side.

Then spear shafts were cut, people's torsos were severed, and golden streaks of light flashed. It was either dying or having weapons chopped off and falling over helplessly, one of the two.

Then the mercenaries who had just rushed over momentarily froze at the absurd sight. What is this?

As the mercenaries rushing him fell, Rickart quickly pierced through the enemies and sprinted.

The startled mercenaries suddenly came back to their senses.

"Hey you mother fucker! Put the flag down!"

In the process, someone brought a bucket of waste and splashed it abruptly on Rickart. Not expecting such an attack, Rickart was startled and sharply twisted his body.

Though he barely managed to dodge, the stench brushed his nose, and Rickart fell to the ground frowning.

Seizing that opening, those holding spears or billhooks rushed to stab the fallen Rickart all at once. Indeed, being mercenaries, they coordinated well together.

Without needing any special sword techniques, nothing was as threatening as coordinating and attacking all at once.

But Rickart wasn't ordinary either. A regular Sword Master might have been helpless, but Rickart jumped up and leaped high from a standing position.

Since it was dark at night and he suddenly leaped high, many mercenaries thought Rickart just suddenly vanished. Their hands felt only the bare ground, lacking the unique sensation of stabbing a person.

Only a few sharp-eyed ones raised their heads and looked up, but Rickart was already descending, fluttering his cape and the flag.

Flash-!

It truly seemed like a lightning bolt struck tearing the darkness apart in the middle of the night. Rickart cleaved one mercenary vertically and passed through the gap.

While the mercenaries were greatly startled and momentarily hesitated, the golden flaming sword embroidered the night like dancing stars.

Thwack! Clang! Whoosh! Whizz!

Pools of blood were already soaking the ground, and chunks of meat plopped down. Only then did the mercenaries rushing over from afar think, 'This ain't it'.

To their eyes, Rickart looked like a legendary hero holding a holy sword. Because Sword Masters weren't common, even seeing one with their own eyes they didn't know what it was.

But Rickart suddenly changed direction and bounded back into the enemy camp. By this point, the mercenaries were almost losing their sense of direction even within their own camp.

"What, what happened. I'm asking where the flag went. Who is it? Who's the intruder?"

The mercenary commander who had fled into his tent upon seeing Rickart earlier asked his subordinates. But explaining the whole story was too lengthy.

And instead of an explanation, the flag flew straight at them from a far distance. As the mercenary commander turned his head, the spear blade at the end of the flag pierced his face.

Thud!

His head snapped back, and he fell flat on his back. Rickart, who had come close in an instant, pulled out the spear-flag, and struck the ground forcefully with the spear while shouting. Flaming sword in one hand, flag in the other.

"Come and take it!"

The mercenary commander's blood flowing down from the spear blade soaked the flag.

Rickart suppressed the enemies with glaring eyes. And then shouted again.

"If you lack the courage to take it, move aside!"

And with that he proudly walked out of the enemy camp that had turned into a mess. Having stirred things up as he pleased, he just walked right out.

The mercenaries, bewildered, terrified, and wondering what on earth was going on, simply had their eyes wide open. So they just stood blankly and watched.

Rickart slipped out of the enemy camp and climbed the stairs leading to Adelibari. Turning around midway, he saw one area being noisy and chaotic, like a pebble thrown into a lake.

Mercenaries from other units were confused, knowing something crazy happened over there but not exactly what. There were also many who woke up and acted flustered out of fear.

Continuing up the stairs and returning to Adelibari, the waiting citizens had lit bonfires and stared at Rickart with blinking eyes.

Covered in blood from head to toe and holding an enemy flag, Rickart truly didn't look like a human.

"Hang the flag on the city wall. Open the gates anytime for those aiming to retrieve it. Tell them instead, that they can only take it if they fight and defeat me."

Rickart treated the enemy's flag as spoils of war. Normally, people who occupied a castle or city would hang their own flag, but this was closer to putting it on display.

The people took the flag from Rickart. The spear shaft was sticky with enemy blood. When stuck into the city wall, the wing-shaped flag fluttered in the moonlight.

Rickart returned to the detached palace and took off his gear with Roy's help. Heated from the battle, steam rose from his body even though the weather wasn't that cold.

Looking down at the floor, Rickart, who was reeling in his killing intent, appeared unfamiliar to Roy. His eyes were like......

"Master......"

Putting the heavy chainmail aside momentarily, Roy called him softly. He felt anxious that it might be a different person. Rickart looked back at the boy and smiled faintly.

"Behind courage lies madness. There is no one in the world without fear. Determining how crazy I should get is a truly difficult task, but I have to do it. Just like walking a tightrope."

"Anyway, you engaged in this dangerous task for the people, right?"

"No."

"Then?"

"Because we can win. Fully. I can see it."

"......Will I be able to see it too someday?"

"Of course."

Rickart stroked Roy's shoulder with his hands dirtied from battle. And then went to the bathhouse to wash.

Meanwhile, Roy maintained Rickart's armor covered in blood and chunks of flesh. Carefully wiping and oiling every single link of the chainmail so it wouldn't rust.

Maintaining and repairing combat gear was a chore requiring a lot of hands. So a knight needs a squire, and Roy took on those tasks for Rickart.

In the bathhouse, Marie poured water and scrubbed his back. With the hot spring water, even the fatigue clinging stickily to his body seemed to wash away completely.

Marie inspected Rickart's body to see if there were any wounds. Her fingertips were trembling, so Rickart held her hand.

No matter how brave of a woman she was, though she didn't show it, him doing such reckless things alone must have made her heart anxious.

"Do you have to do it alone?"

"I made a promise. With the people."

"I think doing it as three would be fine too."

"When a chaotic melee breaks out, doing it alone is easier."

"How many more times do you have to do it?"

"Until a fire is lit in people's hearts, I suppose."

The reason Rickart did reckless things wasn't simply to show off his strength. Literally, it was to instill courage in people's hearts and deliver fear to the enemies.

And thus it was his intention to shape the battle itself advantageously.

"But you know, suppose we win the battle, then what happens?"

"What do you mean what happens?"

"Like, becoming King."

"I don't know......"

Rickart trailed off. With his wet hair hanging down, he bowed his head and pondered deeply before saying.

"In the past, I thought about my own salvation, but as time passed, I realized I was cultivating my own salvation. Now, I think it's about giving others a chance to be saved. A final salvation or whatever doesn't seem to matter anymore."

"......Is that so? Anyway well, we're always together after all."

"Right. But if I should become King by chance, that means Marie becomes the Queen."

"Mm, I don't know."

"Why?"

"Because there's no reason I couldn't be the Emperor?"

Rickart looked back at Marie and laughed. Because it was a funny joke. The two's lips naturally overlapped.

Thus the night deepened, and the next day dawned. The enemies were somehow chaotic, and as the rumors spread, the 50,000-strong throng seemed to whisper the lyrics acting like a prophecy.

'When stars twinkle on the lake, the prince will come. When the prince comes, this misery will end too.'

And before dark, another flag was hung on the city wall. The next day too, and increasing by one every day, before they knew it, five flags fluttered in the wind.

The enemies also set traps or formed networks of fire in their own way to respond, but when Rickart slipped through like a weasel and managed to snatch unit flags no matter what, they gave up.

As if taking the matter seriously and preparing for a proper battle, the enemies retreated far back and set up camp. It was almost a full day's walk away.

Since it was clearly visible from the city looking down but they couldn't see it, they seemed trying to resolve that first. As expected, that guy Grantz wasn't ordinary.

When the enemies retreated far away, the citizens of Adelibari felt like their clogged windpipes had opened. So now, they began to bring out the wealth or food they had hidden away.

And whether women or men, old or young, each did what they could do to support the battle.

Providing labor to build watchtowers on the peaks, making arrows, spinning thread with spinning wheels to sew torn cloth, and children even ran errands for soldiers.

There was hope imbued in all their touches. The hope that they could eventually fend off that destructive Demon King. As such hopes gathered one by one, they naturally became one.

That was exactly like a flame. Changing moment by moment without a form, but a flame harboring only one goal. That was to burn oneself entirely.

Igniting embers of hope in people's hearts, and bearing it. In that respect, Rickart deserved to be called a hero. From an adventurer, to a shepherd, and this time a hero.

Transcending all extreme skills, and even transcending prophecies, ultimately what mattered was a deep heart and broad intellect.

Thus, now he could carry out his task with a joyful heart. That task being, boldly moving forward to pass on the flame of hope.