Chapter 239

Chapter 239

Attacks that cannot be seen with eyes, touched with hands, or felt with any other senses were bound to be feared.

Especially if unexpectedly stabbed with the tip of a sword while sleeping, or in the midst of exhaustion and hardship, you had no choice but to die helplessly. Shadow of the King, it was literally a shadow-like method.

Whether that was the strongest technique was unknown, but it was certainly the most terrifying technique.

Even somewhat courageous people had no choice but to tremble in fear, but mysteriously Rickart's party did not have that.

It wasn't because they lacked fear, but because they had drawn their own conclusions about death from the beginning.

Malcolm thought even if death approached anytime as a swordsman, it was also an aspect of life; Roy, perhaps influenced by his father, was confident even in the face of death; and Maters was just indifferent because he lived a life more painful than death.

And Rickart had already died and come back to life once, and so paradoxically, he had little lingering attachment to life from the start.

In conclusion, Rickart's party was also not ordinary people either, no less than the eerie, bizarre, and blind Shadow of the King.

It wasn't a matter of good and evil. Nor was it a conflict of beliefs and beliefs. It was just a brutal swordplay of terrible deviants.

"I will try to ask the family head, but I cannot guarantee whether the family will fight the Shadow of the King as a whole."

Malcolm said walking the forest path. Despite seemingly tired, his eyes keeping watch on the surroundings were like a well-sharpened sword without dulling.

"I don't desperately need help. If there are any clues or information that can be obtained, it merely reduces time and doesn't make a difference to the result."

Unlike Malcolm, Rickart didn't keep watch on his surroundings that much, and was just a little bewildered by the salty smell passing the tip of his nose. He had smelled it somewhere but it didn't suit this place.

"What kind of result?"

"Going to find them and killing them all."

It was an exactly colloquial tone as if having a light conversation. Of course, the weight of those words wasn't light.

Roy and Maters weren't surprised, but the ones who were rather surprised were Malcolm and his last surviving comrade.

Unconsciously letting his guard down slightly, Malcolm looked back at Rickart. Looking at his face, a thought occurred. That this man might really kill all the Shadow of the King.

"The Shadow of the King is an old organization. Half steeped in legends, and half existing in reality. As an old organization, many secretly follow them. We don't know how far their reach extends."

"But isn't their purpose unclear? Are they priests, or something like armed monks? Finding and killing those who go against the doctrine?"

Roy asked.

"We also merely guess it's roughly something like that."

"What is certain is that they are targeting us. So I'm intending to find and kill them all first too. There is no other reason."

It was a truly simple and obvious reason. Because you're trying to kill me, I'll kill you all first, that was it.

Of course, the primary goal was to find out about Caldebert's final moments wherever possible.

"We are almost there."

Malcolm's female comrade said. Having hardly heard her voice throughout the journey, arriving at Tel Urano seemed to open her words as it was her home.

Of course, no one cared about that, and passing through a long tunnel-like forest, they finally arrived at 'Terminus Urano', Tel Urano for short. It meant the boundary of heaven.

Tel Urano was also the place where fierce battles unfolded between the Empire and barbarians 100 years ago. The place where the forward base of taking and being taken was.

100 years was a short time from the perspective of history, and a long time from the perspective of an individual's life.

Instead of the gloomy shadows of 100 years ago, bright sunlight was beating down on the city, a large long river passed by, and the antique buildings somewhat resembled Adelorn.

The flatland fortress built with red stones next to the river seemed able to station ten thousand soldiers, and fishing boats and merchant ships floated on the river.

And the sea. The sea could be seen far off to the north. The identity of the salty smell felt from somewhere was exactly the sea.

Rickart didn't know any of it. There was no river back then, and he didn't even know there was a sea at a close distance if it was close.

The surroundings were a dense forest full of monsters and barbarians, and barely a garrison bursting with soldiers in a narrow clearing, so he hadn't known what was around.

Instead of saying it had changed unrecognizably, he just felt like he had come here for the first time. Rickart calmly took in the panoramic view of the city into his eyes.

There was nothing familiar. Thus, the smell of fire and steel, blood, and death could not be found anywhere.

"Let's hurry and go. My body is tired but I'm too mentally exhausted."

Usually not showing signs of fatigue, and not the type of person to did so, Malcolm said that. Arriving at the place he could call his hometown and home, he seemed relieved.

Rickart headed towards the city. Next to the city, a wide agricultural field drawing waterways from the river unfolded, feeling both shocking and triggering a sense of déjà vu.

Somewhere around there, in a mud pit sinking up to the knees, people must have died and killed, definitely......

Whether an auditory hallucination or not, a huge reverberation like thunder coming from afar struck his ears.

'Steel Reaper Ricky! A duel! You and I will end the war here!'

"......"

Now, instead of that thunderous shout filled with hostility, only a gentle wind blew. Where did all those barbarians go?

Of course, Caldebert must have returned to integrate and lead the people, opening a new world, thus making them disappear, but merely hearing it through words and seeing it on site was unbelievable. Was this possible?

They passed through the city gate in earnest and entered the city. Looking at the people walking around, they were no different from ordinary people of the Empire. If there was a difference, it was that they all had extremely clear skin like Malcolm and many were handsome men and beautiful women.

"Please come this way."

Malcolm said. Ricky followed him past buildings and arrived at the red stone fortress he saw earlier.

There were no people guarding the city gate. Just many people in similar attire to Malcolm walking around with swords at their waists. And they pretended to know Malcolm from here and there.

"Malcolm, where have you been out for so long?"

"At the boundary with the Westerners."

"That again? There's nothing to learn from them. But don't tell me the people next to you are......?"

Malcolm's acquaintance saw Rickart, Roy, and Maters. Though their appearance wasn't particularly different from the people here, their attire, hair, and something subtle were different.

"Right. The master here is someone who has reached the Realm of Sun. And the other two are not swordsmen but brave warriors. They drank the dragon's precious blood and survived, gaining bodies impervious to blades."

He said so, but they were all hard words to believe. Malcolm's acquaintance tilted his head, frowning as if having eaten bad food.

"No way......"

"There are things to tell the family head. And other matters too. I want to rest first."

Malcolm's female comrade said.

Rickart's party just remained still regardless of what others thought of them or how they looked at them. They would have engaged in a staring contest if they had to, but thanks to Malcolm, they weren't exactly looked at with such hostility.

Anyway passing him by they entered the red fortress. There was no garden and the courtyard looked like a wide training ground or parade ground. Except for the city walls, there were long barracks-like buildings in all four directions, and Rickart was guided there.

Malcolm approached a boy swordsman who looked about 10 or 12 years old and said.

"They are guests. Provide a room to stay, bath water, and simple food. Please wait a moment. I will go to the family head and return."

The boy swordsman seemed bewildered but since a direct descendant of the family commanded, he said nothing more. He was wearing a practice sword at his waist, but from the outside, it was hard to distinguish from a real sword.

The room Rickart's party was guided to was a simple and neat room. It wasn't splendid with furniture and carpets like the royal castle.

Unpacking his luggage and looking out the window, there wasn't much of a view, just the city walls visible. Even so, the sunlight entered well. It seemed it would smell exactly like sunlight.

"Not much of a thing than expected? I thought monsters would be swarming and people would be wildly savage. Extremely barren."

Roy said unpacking his luggage. He sat sprawled on the bed without even washing.

"That's why it's surprising. That a place like this is somewhere in the Forest of Demonic Beasts."

"That's true. What do you think, Uncle Maters? Does it look like there's salvation?"

"I don't know. I just felt it was no different exactly like you. But reading into your words, it's also surprising, so it seems I sort of understand something. That salvation is not in a certain location but can be anywhere."

"Not fun."

Because Maters kept talking about salvation, Roy spoke as if bored. However on one hand, he also recalled struggling to come here with his family in the past.

Though quite some time had passed, thinking of his father honestly still made him melancholic for no reason. New life or whatever, if he had just seen this place even once. Just if he had.

Rickart also became sentimental in his own way. Was fighting so tenaciously meaningful, or meaningless?

The meaning of war, once a big topic of conversation, but the more he looked, the more he knew, the more he felt he didn't know.

The three people had different purposes and different sentiments. They didn't come here with a grand goal, but it was closer to just a journey. However, it wasn't that they didn't have a goal entirely.

Merely, they were standing between trivial things or the most important things.

While unpacking and resting, the boy swordsman came and informed them bathwater had been drawn. The three people followed the boy to a narrow bathhouse and immersed their bodies in three large bathtubs.

The hot water felt repulsive for a moment, but as always, after a dizzying feeling for a moment, the travel fatigue melted away shortly. A languor as if about to faint coolly pressed down on his head.

"Eou, yah......"

Roy exclaimed closing his eyes tightly.

The three physically sturdy men pushed each other's backs, and considerate of Maters not having a left hand, Roy washed his hair. His hook prosthesis was also washed clean and wiped neatly for a new look.

Coming out after washing, towels and local style clothing were placed there. Clothes slightly clinging to the body. Putting it on, the comfortable movement wasn't entirely bad.

As they were trying to take a nap going back to their room, Malcolm visited.

"The family head says he wishes to see the three of you briefly."

Since it wasn't his house anyway and it was a place with a host, greeting as guests was a proper thing to did. Rickart just grabbed his sword and stood up from his seat. The other two people also took their weapons.

Following Malcolm past the parade ground, they passed through the city Gates inside the fortress two more times. Reaching the innermost part of the fortress like that, the inner keep between the fat-looking circular defense towers was visible.

But there was no need to deliberately enter. Because everyone from the family, including the family head, had come out. They were wearing something like long coats, and they looked exactly like some academy uniform.

It was possible to know at a glance who the family head was. Because the clothes themselves were different. The buttons and embroidery were gold or silver, so it was splendid.

His eyes drooped but his gaze possessed strength, a somewhat bizarre impression. His age looked around the 40s, he had blonde hair mixed with sparse white hairs, and his height was a bit smaller than Rickart, taller than ordinary people.

As Rickart approached them the gazes of the family gathered, and Malcolm introduced on their behalf.

"This is Master Ricky. Master Ricky, this is the 8th Family Head of the Anustella family, Orleicht."

But after that, silence circulated without any words. The family head named Orleicht merely observed Rickart intently, and seemed to want to gauge something.

He spoke first.

"From whom did you learn the sword, Master?"

"I didn't learn from anyone."

"Then how did you master the sword?"

"Stabbing, slashing, chopping. With the malice of enemies, my own courage I didn't even know myself, the sacrifice of comrades, and the luck of arrows brushing past my cheek."

"......Where?"

"Here."

"Hmm......"

It was a nonsensical statement but the family head accepted it as a metaphor or figurative expression.

"May I request a sword discussion?"

A sword discussion was that thing they did in Solarium. Not exactly a real duel, but not sparring either, a life-and-death confrontation.

Rickart nodded compliantly.

"Good. If that is a welcoming ceremony."

"Since the brightest star, the Steel Reaper, there has been no person who reached the Realm of Sun. It became a long-cherished wish for all of us. Even if it means sacrificing my life, even sacrificing my soul, if I can achieve it I have no regrets. Please show it using all your power. Even if it means I die, it will serve as a piece of precious teaching to my family members."

The family head requesting a sword discussion wasn't to hear some mediocre advice or poetic verses, but to see the 'real' sword of a swordsman who reached the Realm of Sun. He judged that it was more important than a hundred words.

But must it be done even risking one's life? He couldn't understand it well.

But Rickart didn't refuse. Since they were people old enough and had something they pursued with their own passion and conviction, if they asked him to kill them, he had no choice but to oblige.

Though it was different from the desperate struggle here 100 years ago, digging into its essence he couldn't know exactly what was different.

A pleasant wind swept past the sand of the training ground. The salty sea smell was mixed in.