Chapter 157

Chapter 157

***

The spraying rain seemed not to fall but rest down softly. On top of people's heads, on their shoulders, and on the blades of their swords.

On a cloudy day with the sun hidden by clouds, the blades beaded with small water droplets looked exactly as if they had taken a purifying bath. In order to split flesh and bone to finally become covered in blood.

However, there was no such thing for this special sword. Holy sword, or demonic sword. Whatever it was called, as a golden flame silently rose along the blade in an instant, the water droplets evaporated.

The bandits who had been pushing in wielding shields almost as tall as their height and keeping their shoulders side-by-side definitely saw it. The flame, that was. In their eyes it looked like magic.

And that magic-like flame flashed glaringly before their eyes like lightning in an instant.

PAK!

It didn't even make that loud of a noise. Even though phenomena of shields being cut and heads separating from bodies occurred.

Because Snake-eye Ashtad was behind several layers of subordinates, he couldn't see closely. So he thought the subordinates collapsing powerlessly out of nowhere were playing a joke.

But isn't it strange? A joke in a situation like right now. Ashtad realized belatedly that their heads were missing, and the blood spreading on the ground. Huh?

Both sides of the narrow path were steep slopes. One side was an uphill, and the other side was a falling place.

Around the time Ashtad realized his subordinates' heads were missing, Rickart had already turned the slope, kicked off the ground and was falling back down.

He moved so swiftly that his hood was swept off revealing his hair and face. Ashtad felt something strange at the appearance of the swordsman who was younger than expected.

Rickart held the flaming sword in both hands, raised it glaringly above his head, and fell right into the middle of the enemies. Because the bandits were gathered swarming bubbling, he couldn't land on the ground, and exactly tangled with the enemies as he was.

When others saw, it looked like a suicidal act. It seemed he would be buried by enemies and trampled or caught, but a reversal occurred immediately.

The flaming sword pierced out through someone's torso, and exactly drew a large circle as it was.

CHWAAAAK!

It was a ring of blood. Following the ring of blood, everything was severed. And those whose bodies were separated died without even knowing why they died.

Bodies that became chunks of meat rather than living things fell crumbling. What technique was there in this? It was just murder itself.

Due to the corpses catching on feet and an immense amount of blood, the ground instantaneously became such that there was no room to step.

In the very center of it all, Rickart stood alone. All other things were covered in pitch-black blood but only the flaming sword and the two flashing eyes were clear.

People who were outside the radius ended up surviving, which was purely luck. If inside they died, and if outside they lived. That was all.

The living didn't know what happened at first. And even seeing it with their eyes, it was unbelievable.

Presently as their pupils dilated, the hairs on their heads stood on end hesitating, but not even a scream came out. Because exactly as if their lung muscles stiffened, the breath they inhaled all at once wasn't exhaled well.

Whether it was misfortune or luck, Ashtad also barely survived. He stared blankly at the sight of Rickart running clatter down the slope again and falling down.

Seeing that, Ashtad judged. Indeed, perhaps because he was a person with qualities worth becoming the boss of a group, unlike his subordinates standing blankly, he threw his body down the downhill beside the path.

Because the trees were dense, he could preserve his life by struggling with all his might reasonably well and grabbing this and that. However, it was very dangerous as rough valley water flowed below. If he stepped wrong even slightly, he was bound to be swept away by the rapids and die.

He grabbed tree after tree moving along the steep slope. Because the trees were wet and slippery from the rain, he had to struggle with all his might.

In the midst of that, corpses, or severed necks and limbs rolled down from above.

To Rickart, Snake-eye Ashtad was not even in his consideration from the beginning. Just like his words asking if he thought the knighthood would care about a guy like him.

As Rickart cleanly sliced the enemies two or three times, from then on the startled enemies pushed each other and began to run away wildly. Most just ran away being pushed by allies not even knowing why they were fleeing.

There were also those who threw their bodies down the slope like Ashtad, but not a few properly failed to grab trees, fell wildly, and were swept away by the valley water.

Because the path was narrow and completely blocked front and back, pushing each other and falling was an uproar. All sorts of curses covered the surroundings of the mountain stronghold. HEY YOU SON OF A BITCH, DON'T PUSH, words like that.

As corpses and people kept falling from above, Ashtad felt like he was experiencing hell. The hell of falling corpses, that was. Below was a water hell.

Whether his subordinates died or not, how the situation rolled, he didn't care about anything and moved his trembling limbs heading toward the mountain stronghold. His startled heart pounded throbbing throbbing as if it would pierce out of his chest.

Then from some moment, corpses and people didn't fall from above, as if the evil spirit that came up from hell failed to reach here.

So he grabbed trees and strenuously climbed up the slope again. One subordinate who had been above stared down blankly at him, his boss. He too had a greatly startled expression.

"Boss? What are you doing here?"

"Don't just stand there blankly, grab me!"

"What happened at the front?"

"Ey shit!"

He needlessly grabbed the subordinate pulling him down, and stepped back onto the path. The subordinate almost fell down but people nearby grabbed him so he barely managed not to fall.

Coming up to the path, the mountain stronghold was not far away. He hastily approached the mountain stronghold and shouted.

"Hey! Open the gate!"

However, no answer was heard from the mountain stronghold. A very ominous silence flowed for a moment.

At that time, screams were heard from afar behind his back. Every time a scream was heard, Ashtad flinched in surprise and looked back.

"Hey! I told you to open the gate! Who's on duty! Wanna die!? Which bastard is it!"

He was dying of urgency but there was no answer and the castle gate showed no signs of opening. So his anger went up to the top of his head. Blood veins popped splat splat on his forehead and his eye whites became bloodshot.

Then suddenly realizing the strangeness, his heart sank clatter.

"It's a betrayal. This bastard Hort betrayed us."

Hort was the vice-boss. As a comrade and subordinate who had been together since they deserted from the mercenary corps, he too had been feeling an unusual atmosphere recently.

So he intentionally led all his subordinates out more than necessary. And to successfully complete the work as if showing off, and assert his authority once again but.

However, at that time, something heavy fell from atop the wooden palisade. The ground was muddy so it couldn't roll, but merely fell with a SPLAT.

Wondering what it was and looking, it was none other than Hort's severed head. Ashtad stared at it blankly, then lifted his head with a blank face. Some unfamiliar men were quietly looking down from atop the wooden palisade.

From this point on, Ashtad couldn't understand the situation itself at all. What was this......?

"Wh, who are you?"

He asked, but there was no answer, and the people standing atop the wooden palisade merely looked down at him bluntly.

At that time, the wails of his subordinates could be heard closer from behind.

"Aack!"

"Don't push! I said don't push!"

"What's happening at the front!?"

"Boss! Boss!"

Whether he failed to hear the sounds calling him anxiously, Ashtad ran away recklessly.

Only the thought that he must live when he could live dominated his mind. It wasn't a mental state capable of making judgments like reorganizing subordinates and counterattacking or things like that.

But when a person gets into this state, they become truly simple. Because running recklessly following the escape route right before their eyes was all. However, truly sadly, since it was a mountain of all places, there weren't that many paths.

And, on the few narrow mountain paths, the monastery disciples Rickart deployed in advance stood exactly blocking the path.

Perhaps there were bandits who ran away first already, as several corpses were piled up at their feet. They were like a naturally piled castle wall, making it not easy to run away crossing over it.

Ashtad completely lost his mind and pushed his surrounding subordinates randomly however he pleased. And his subordinates were equally out of their minds, so they pushed each other blindly without even recognizing whether it was the boss or not.

As they just ran away mindlessly without even thinking like that, at some point people pushed wildly from front and back, and those stuck in the middle reached a state of almost getting crushed to death.

"Please don't push!"

"I said don't push!"

"Hey you sons of bitches! I am Snake-eye Ashtad! I said get out of the way!"

They couldn't tell how the situation was turning out at all. It was like that from the perspective of the ones suffering it. From the perspective of executing proper tactics and operations, it's simple though.

Ultimately, they drastically leaned toward the side with weaker pressure. Ashtad suddenly snapped back to his senses. Rough valley water flowed not far away, and his own subordinates were falling heavily into it.

Ah, so they kept pushing from this side, he realized only now, but it was already too late a situation. Because the opposite side kept pushing toward this side.

There was nowhere to go. Other than falling into the valley water. So whether he was crazy or this was his last desperate struggle, he took out a dagger and stabbed the subordinate who kept pushing him.

"I told you not to push!"

Must I live even like this? It was unknown.

However, the tragic point was that it wasn't of much use even doing all this. Because even if he stabbed the subordinates who kept pushing him, the pushing force didn't decrease.

Moreover, because all four directions were tightly blocked, moving his arm to stab was actually hard as well.

So he stabbed the subordinates pushing him until the end, repeatedly stabbing the person he already stabbed over and over, before falling straight into the valley water.

At that time, surprisingly, it wasn't very scary. Because he saw death gradually approaching with his eyes, and had time to prepare his heart in his own way.

Rather than the sensation of falling into water, the sensation of being swept away was transmitted first. In an instant water flooded his lungs through his nose and mouth, he immediately lost his sense of direction front, back, side to side, up and down, and losing his mind like that, he drowned just like that.

The subordinates who went first, the subordinates who followed behind. Most of the bandits of the mountain stronghold died like that.

The number Rickart personally killed was less than expected. About twenty? Thirty? Most died while pushing each other. There were not a few who tripped and were trampled to death.

Therefore, the mountain path was completely covered by corpses trampled to death. That sight was so bizarre that everyone except Rickart who devised the operation couldn't close their mouths out of extreme surprise.

Not knowing what on earth this was, both Ice and the monastery disciples were dumbfounded. Because they merely executed the order to guard the intersections, but the result was like this.

It was a truly genius method. In terms of killing people, that was.

"Let's have the soldiers called to clear out the corpses strewn about the path."

Rickart said to the knights looking around the inside of the mountain stronghold.

The mountain stronghold was empty. Except for a few women and young children who did chores, there was no one.

If they had fought a battle it would have become a mess, but it was clean.

The rough currents of the valley water merely flowed gushing smoothly as if nothing happened, exactly as if feigning ignorance on what they had done.

With this they arranged a place to avoid the rainy season, and wrapped up the bandit subjugation the Michela Sword Monastery was trying to did as well.

Searching the mountain stronghold, the wealth the one named Snake-eye accumulated all this while was massive. With this money he should have bought food or something, they couldn't understand what he had so much greed for that he took this all by himself.

Rickart gave rewards to the 10 knights, and since Ice and the monastery disciples also suffered, he divided a certain portion in the form of a donation.

And the rest he decided to use entirely as military funds. He didn't take a single thing personally.

It took exactly one day for the knighthood troops to fold their encampment, climb up to the mountain stronghold, clear out the corpses, and organize the encampment again.

And amazingly enough, after a day passed, the rain streaks became thick again.

Was it said that luck depended on one's choice. No matter how much rain poured, looking at the sound of rain hitting the sturdy roofs and the rainwater flowing to the edges of the eaves, they could fully enjoy leisure.

Now rather than suffering due to the rainy season, it felt like a sort of rest period. With a good friend beside him and the quiet sound of rain accompanying them, there was nothing more he desired right now.

Of course, it would be tragic to the people who previously lived here. However, the valley water flowing next to the mountain stronghold had swallowed that tragedy without a trace.