Chapter 91

Chapter 91

***

It felt like it was around this time of year. No, was I a little older? When I left for the Eastern Frontier. Back then, I had followed the Imperial recruiter, knowing nothing.

Like a leaf floating aimlessly down a river, the place I arrived at after a month's journey was quite literally hell.

But I didn't fall into deep despair or become discouraged. I simply rolled in the mud alongside my comrades and learned how to become a demon in hell.

How to stab, slice, and chop to kill quickly and effectively. How to make tears of blood flow from my enemies' eyes. How to plant despair. How to thoroughly destroy, whether it was a human or an object.

Caldebert, you once told me I had the makings of a poet. But wouldn't you have become a much better person too, if it hadn't been for the battlefield?

Now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn't have left the battlefield. Rather than face those lies and betrayals.

If only you had offered a warm word, or at the very least, looked at me with sympathetic eyes. But such a cold gaze...

I suppose you could have thought I was dead. But still, shouldn't you have spared me that icy glare and those incredibly cold words? What choice did I have then?

Other than to kill everyone, that is.

"Ricky."

Marie, sitting across from him in the rattling wagon, called out. Rickart snapped out of his reverie.

"Hmm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing. Just reminiscing."

"You're slacking off."

"Huh?"

"Stay tense. Tense."

Marie was repeating something Rickart had said to her once before. A silly laugh escaped Rickart's lips.

"Alright. I'll stay tense."

"Anyway, I hope this job finishes quickly. We don't have many pieces of agarwood left."

The agarwood they had received from Doctor Reno was enough to last about a month. Since then, they had been buying it with their own money. Not only was it extremely expensive, but it was also hard to find, meaning the price fluctuated every time.

Sometimes it cost nearly as much as a house, and other times they received it as payment for handling a job. Thus, Rickart and Marie's financial situation was quite bleak.

Marie, because she had met the wrong boyfriend, was practically broke despite being a Sword Master. Of course, she herself had no complaints; she only wished she could do even more for Rickart.

Rickart turned his head and looked out of the wagon. He could see the adventurers from the Ehrenberg Branch marching silently with their heads down. It was as if he were looking at his past self heading off to the Eastern Frontier.

The fields were already drying up and turning yellow. The subjugation operation they had planned to start in the spring had faced various practical constraints, and the order to assemble was finally issued only in autumn.

Surprisingly, the Supreme Commander was none other than the Kelbron Court Count, Helauman. He had stepped forward personally.

About ten guilds were mobilized, and roughly a hundred adventurers from the Beringen Guild participated. Among them, the Ehrenberg Branch alone provided forty people, accounting for the highest proportion. The total force numbered around seven hundred.

However, Rickart was a bit skeptical. The reason was simple: adventurers were not soldiers. In other words, this was not an army.

Adventurers might surpass ordinary soldiers in individual combat skills, but for an army, forming a cohesive group and maintaining unity and organizational power was far more important than individual combat prowess.

In that regard, adventurers—each with distinct personalities—might be suited for scouting, annihilation, or other small-scale special operations, but they were ill-suited for large-scale group warfare.

Therefore, Rickart believed that the more adventurers gathered, the more inefficient they would become.

But then again, the enemies' situation was likely similar, so he wasn't overly worried about it.

A capable military commander was rarer than a Sword Master. He didn't think there would be such a person on either their side or the enemy's side, so if it was fair, he supposed it was fair.

"I think we're almost there. I can see it."

Bori-bori's voice echoed from outside the wagon. Rickart hopped down lightly from the moving vehicle.

In the distance, colorful tents dotted the vast field. They belonged to the adventurers who had arrived earlier.

"By the way, I don't see a river."

Bolka, looking around, observed. There was only a vast field resembling gentle waves, but no water in sight.

"There's no river here. We have to dig a well."

Rickart answered immediately, knowing the geographical features of the area.

Meanwhile, his heart began to pound uncontrollably. It was beating so fiercely that he couldn't easily calm it down. Experiencing it in reality, as opposed to just thinking about it, brought a unique and profound feeling.

The familiar scent of nostalgia blooming from the mountains, the fields, the sky, and the wind made Rickart's heart ache persistently.

It felt like it was being sliced by a knife, yet simultaneously being filled with something indescribable. A sudden surge of emotion rose in his throat, and he tried hard to swallow it down without making it obvious.

No matter where he looked, this was a place steeped in heartbreaking nostalgia.

It was the place where betrayal, hatred, despair, and anger were conceived, but it was also the hometown of a pure boy who had lived the most peaceful life in the world, envying nothing and no one.

The two wagons, five carts, and roughly forty Ehrenberg adventurers approached the assembly point. Among those watching from a distance, members of the Beringen Guild approached and greeted them.

"Fuck, did you guys uproot your entire foundation for this job?"

"Wow, these guys really brought almost everyone."

"Are you guys seriously believing the promise made by the 5th Prince?"

Words filled with welcome, affection, and mild reproach poured over Bolka and the other adventurers.

At the same time, the adventurers who had arrived earlier subtly glanced at the Ehrenberg quartet: Rickart, Marie, Bori-bori, and Ice.

In particular, Rickart's breastplate, slightly visible between his cloak, caught their eyes. The symbolism of destroying a guild and claiming their heirloom as loot was extraordinary.

"Hey, if not now, when else are we going to become nobles? This job is an opportunity. The ones who didn't come are the idiots."

Bolka declared. The 5th Prince, Bellator, had publicly promised to grant titles of nobility to those who rendered distinguished service in the subjugation operation.

Whether or not he, not even the Emperor, had the authority to do so was unknown. However, the world currently had many ownerless lands devastated by outlaws, so it didn't seem like a complete lie.

Above all, the subjugation operation held immense symbolic importance for Bellator as well, as it was a means of avenging the late Emperor.

"Nobles always say one thing to your face and another behind your back. Think we'd fall for that for the first time?"

"Then why did you come here?"

"I'm just tagging along to get a piece of the pie. Hey, life is all about piggybacking on others!"

"Heheheh, idiot."

Bolka exchanged trivial banter with the Clan Masters and other branch managers. Then, he reported their arrival at Dunkel's tent and began setting up their camp.

They leveled the ground with shovels, laid out tough cloth, and then pushed up thick logs, starting by erecting the central pillar.

When Rickart easily lifted the heavy log—a task that normally required several people—and drove it into the ground by himself, the people around him stared in absolute wonder.

After setting up a spacious two-person tent and placing cots and other living essentials inside, Rickart moved to go somewhere.

"Where are you going?"

Bori-bori, who was following Bolka to a Clan Master-level meeting, turned back and asked.

"Ah, just to take a look around."

"Shouldn't a tuberculosis patient get some rest?"

"It's not like my arms or legs are cut off."

"Marie's going with you, right? Make sure she goes with you."

It was a first. Bori-bori was actually worrying about Rickart. Given that Rickart's condition wasn't perfect, he must have been genuinely concerned.

Having someone worry about him felt quite nice. It manifested as a smile on his face.

"She's coming over there now. I'll be back before sunset."

Rickart waited for Marie, and together they ventured out into the vast field. Their destination was the old village.

He stared straight into the sun. But for some reason, it wasn't blinding.

He didn't know why he was looking at the sun, but he felt a sense of certainty, an ominous premonition that something terrible was going to happen.

Then, at some point, a round shadow began to cover the sun from top to bottom.

What in the world was happening? Was this even possible? The heart of the girl looking at the sun pounded violently. For some inexplicable reason, a wave of anxiety that the world was ending washed over her.

The shadow descended further. It looked as if the sun were closing its eye. From a certain point onward, the bright day suddenly turned as dark as night.

When the sun completely closed its eye, a ring of holy light flashed. And there was someone wearing it on their head like a halo.

Covered in a pitch-black shadow, he stood atop a sacred altar and slowly turned his head, his eyes burning with a golden ferocity.

At that moment, the anxiety transformed into unbearable sorrow, agony, and regret, swallowing the girl whole.

"Gasp!"

Startled, Daisy opened her eyes. Cold sweat poured down her body, and goosebumps covered her arms and neck. Her plush bed and pillows were damp.

Daisy panted heavily, trying to calm her racing heart. Light from outside seeped through the cracks in the thick curtains.

"Michela, are you okay? Did you have a prophetic dream?"

Michela was the name Daisy had received after joining the Cult.

A girl in the adjacent bed spoke to her. She was a painfully beautiful girl.

However, Daisy, with her melancholy aura, was no less stunning. The whites of her large eyes were unblemished, smooth as the surface of a boiled egg, and her long blonde hair was as fine as silk curtains.

"Yeah..."

"You've been having them frequently lately. The eclipse?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you're relatively well off. Ariella dreams of all sorts of gruesome corpses."

"But the emotions transfer over... it's sad and painful. To the point where it's unbearable."

A prophetic dream wasn't simply catching a glimpse of a future scene. It was fully experiencing the emotions of the person in that situation, meaning they felt all the negative feelings—fear, dread, anxiety—exactly as they were.

However, unlike Armand, they couldn't see the whole picture, only fragmented parts. The Cult verified the truth by overlapping multiple prophecies.

Crucially, relatively recently, they had discovered through Daisy that their God would resurrect on the day of a solar eclipse.

By employing astronomical calculations, they pinpointed the exact date, which was the reason they had pulled off that incident in the Imperial Capital, Nibelungen, last year.

The girl in the bed next to Daisy was also one of the Nuns of Prophecy, looking about three or four years older than Daisy. Which meant she was barely fifteen or sixteen.

She came over to Daisy's side, stroking her shoulder to comfort her.

"It will be over soon. When our God resurrects, He will take away all that anxiety and fear. We only need to think of Him. Believe. And obey. Then, peace will settle here."

The girl said, pointing to Daisy's heart. But Daisy changed the subject instead of answering.

"But... Aisa, do you still dream too?"

"Well, I'm not much help."

Just because one had prophetic dreams didn't mean they were all useful. There were twelve Nuns of Prophecy in total, and among them, only three, including Daisy, saw crucial prophecies.

One saw the resurrection, one saw the blade of divine golden judgment flame, and one saw a bloodied scene. The Cult interpreted this as their God resurrecting and slaughtering all their enemies.

Regardless, since the Cult didn't know the tastes of the God who would resurrect, they managed the nuns by age group. They ranged from twelve to twenty years old.

They were trained so that when God resurrected, they would exclusively worship, revere, love, dedicate everything to Him, and continue His bloodline.

But Daisy was different. She kept her true feelings firmly hidden deep within her heart. Her beloved was not a god, but a different man.

"I still want to hear it."

Aisa didn't understand why Daisy liked her simple prophecies so much. But if it could calm her down, there was no reason not to share.

"Hmm... Okay. In a cool breeze, under the warm midday sun, there's a ruined village. In an isolated house to the southwest, there's a young man wearing a red cloak. His eyes are hazel..."

Daisy's heart pounded every time she heard that trivial story, no, that prophecy. Because she was absolutely certain that the young man was her beloved, Rickart.

She couldn't forget. That moment was forever etched in Daisy's heart.

'I'm Ricky. What's your name?'

To hell with gods. To Daisy, that boy was her savior.

"Are you feeling a bit calmer now? Do you want to go wash up?"

"Yeah."

Daisy was led by Aisa's hand toward the bathhouse.

The bathhouse was meticulously finished with marble tiles, extremely luxurious. Moreover, warm water was available around the clock.

While the Nuns of Prophecy received strict education, their day-to-day management was rather lax. Because they were women intended to serve God, no one within the Cult dared to mistreat them, and punishing them was impossible.

Therefore, the nuns' daily routine mostly consisted of maintaining their beauty or practicing arias to entertain God.

They were provided with a nutritious supply of fresh food, clean bathwater every day, and specially crafted cosmetic ointments by the Cult.

Their treatment was worlds apart from the children undergoing the Sword Master training—the difference between heaven and hell.

In return, the nuns were required to always wear white mourning clothes and a veil, and they were forbidden from showing their faces to just anyone.

Living a life thoroughly isolated from the outside world, the bond among the nuns was quite strong.

After Daisy and Aisa finished washing in the bathhouse, brushed each other's hair, applied the ointment, and came out.

Instead of heading back to their quarters, Daisy took a completely different path.

"Where are you going?"

"Aisa, keep watch for me."

"You... again?"

It clearly wasn't a one-time thing, as Aisa freaked out.

The area where the Nuns of Prophecy lived was considered a detached palace even within the vast, plain-like temple, so there was almost no surveillance.

Daisy went to a small side door in the wall and easily opened the rusted padlock. She had sawed it off over several days.

Aisa didn't know what to do and kept looking around nervously. Her veil fluttered with her movements.

Regardless, Daisy simply pushed the side door open.

"Michela! You must be back before sunset!"

Aisa whispered urgently. While the nuns were immune to harsh punishments, if they were caught, they would have to endure a day-long scolding from the eldest nun.

"I know. Don't worry. I know what time it is."

Since Aisa's prophecy clearly stated it was 'midday', Daisy figured she had plenty of time to return before dark.

She boldly stepped outside. And immediately cast off the cumbersome, wind-blown veil.

The long white dress clung to her body as it fluttered in the wind, but Daisy's steps were unhesitating. She wasn't just waiting for destiny; it was as if she were marching out to seize it.

When her mother had sold her to the Cult, Daisy had passed by the ruined village. So she knew exactly where it was.

Daisy walked for almost four to five hours from the cool morning until she reached the ruined village. Having been left in ruins for over a hundred years, it was overgrown with grass, looking as if it had become part of nature.

She hadn't eaten, so she should have been hungry, but she didn't care. Muttering the words "Southwest, southwest," Daisy arrived at a house with its roof caved in, completely open to the sky.

She went inside, crouched in a corner, and waited blindly. She only occasionally glanced at the sun to gauge the time.

It didn't matter if it wasn't today. She could just come back next time, and the time after that. In fact, frequently coming here to wait had become somewhat of a routine for her.

However, having walked for hours without rest, she must have been exhausted. Daisy began to nod off like a sick chick.

How long had she dozed? Suddenly, a cool breeze blew in and gently caressed her. It felt like the wind of prophecy, whispering that he had arrived.

"Huh? There's someone here."

An unfamiliar voice. Daisy snapped awake and raised her head. A red cloak, a man standing with his back to the light. Wait...?

Daisy momentarily squinted against the backlight. As her eyes slowly adjusted and the man came into view, she didn't recognize him immediately.

It was because he had grown so much since she last saw him. His face still held traces of youth, but calling him a boy anymore was a stretch.

"Huh?"

Rickart, too, felt like he had seen this slightly altered girl somewhere before, but he didn't recognize Daisy right away. Marie, who had been elsewhere, approached.

"Someone's here? Is she a spy?"

At that moment, Daisy threw herself at the man she had longed to call out to, screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Honey!"