Translator: Willia

What was visible to the eyes were merely streaks of flashing light. Sometimes it drew a large arc, and sometimes it slashed down in a straight line. Just like that, it looked as though the dark night was being embroidered by flashing lights.

When one witnesses an astonishing spectacle, they are inevitably overwhelmed by the moment and the situation, and so it was for Kaspar and Julia.

They were overwhelmed, not because they felt reverence or admiration, but because their minds went blank.

Of course, the enemies faced a horrific outcome. Blood sprayed, corpses fell. The darkness of the night covered them like a burial shroud.

As if both fierce and relaxed, each movement flowed like water, and the swung sword resembled a blazing lightning bolt.

Simple and concise, yet combining softness and strength, speed and slowness, opposing elements were all imbued in each and every strike.

Ricardt’s swordsmanship could never be explained with words, it had to be seen with the eyes, and even then, one couldn’t understand it.

Before anything else, to Kaspar and Julia’s eyes, it appeared horrifyingly beautiful. Could this really be swordsmanship? Not a painting?

Ricardt swung his sword widely to the right, then raised it straight above his head. Then, gritting his teeth, he brought it down with force as if yanking, ending Ringvalt’s unstable remaining days in one blow.

A slanted vertical afterimage like lightning remained, but no thunder accompanied it.

Ringvalt, stunned to the point of utter blankness, could not resist even once and was severed from his right shoulder to his left waist. To witness and then have the will to fight against the ultimate Sword Master right before one's eyes was truly difficult.

Hot blood and entrails poured out in a heap.

Ricardt grabbed a part of the collapsed body, specifically the hair on the head, and lifted it. There were corpses around, and some people still alive, but he paid no attention to any of it. He had overwhelmed them with more than just momentum.

Indeed, the remaining enemies, still alive, trembled uncontrollably and could take no action. It was as if they had seen a ghost or a demon. For original chapters go to NoveIＦire.net

Ricardt held Ringvalt’s head by the hair and exited the castle. With blood pooled on the ground, every step he took produced a splashing sound.

The swordsmen, sensing that something ominous was happening inside the castle, had gathered around it. When Ricardt came out holding a part of Ringvalt’s body, its arm dangling, their eyes widened like lanterns.

Ricardt threw the miserable part of Ringvalt’s corpse in front of them and, holding the flaming sword in one hand, spoke.

In the dark night, the flame burning from the blade, its flickering golden light dimly illuminated Ricardt’s profile, it was not the appearance of a human one would see in reality.

He said:

“Ringvalt is dead. I killed him. If you don’t leave this place before daybreak, you’ll all die too.”

It was a kind of declaration and a sentence. One versus many? There was no such thing. The one who bestowed mercy by overwhelming the crowd was not the many, but the one.

This was not a case of the few fighting the many and surviving, it was a clear demonstration that your life or death was in his hands. And everyone realized it without a doubt.

Most of all, the scent of blood in the dead of night spread far, making those who looked upon Ricardt feel even more chilled.

“What are you staring blankly at? Not leaving? Get lost! Get the hell out, you maggot bastards!”

When Ricardt shouted loudly, everyone flinched and began to move in a panic. They hastily gathered the loot they had plundered and scattered in all directions, fleeing.

That was their nature. Always ready to run when the situation turned against them.

However, the pimps and merchants who had done business with the thugs hid themselves between the houses, reading the room. It seemed the ruler had changed, and they were plotting to offer bribes and do business again.

As they were parasitic vermin, Ricardt didn’t bother to drive them out.

Anyway, after tidying up the situation like that, Ricardt sheathed his sword. Then he returned to the castle and entered the inner castle.

Since the inner castle wasn’t very spacious, he didn’t have to search for long to find the treasures Ringvalt had hoarded.

What the thugs had looted was but a handful compared to what Ringvalt had taken. The true treasures were all in his possession.

Ricardt called out to Kaspar and Julia, who were still standing outside the inner castle, dazed.

“Go find a wagon or cart outside. Let’s load this stuff up and take it with us.”

At that, Kaspar and Julia moved exactly as Ricardt said, like puppets tied to strings, without any sense of awareness. Their expressions were completely blank.

They brought out the packhorses from the stable, put harnesses on them, and made several trips to and from the inner castle to load sacks of food and treasures. Ricardt helped too.

They also took all the livestock, cows, pigs, chickens, and left the castle with the supply wagon, stepping over mud mixed with blood.

Some thugs had already scattered and fled in all directions, while others were still standing there, blankly watching. No one stepped forward to stop them or to avenge their leader. They just stared vacantly.

And so, with just three people, they crushed the Sword Brotherhood and left at their leisure. Of course, it was almost entirely Ricardt who had done it.

Ricardt took the lead, holding the reins with one hand and a torch in the other. It was a dark night, with visibility no more than a few meters, but it was a single path, so it was manageable.

It was only at the chill of dawn that Ricardt, Kaspar, and Julia returned to the village where their companions were. But there were corpses here too.

Unlike the chaotic bloodbath at the castle, the bodies here had at least been laid neatly beside the buildings and covered with cloth.

Despite their exhaustion, Kaspar and Julia were suddenly struck with fear, thinking something had gone wrong, but that was not the case.

Marie, with a sword at her waist and arms crossed, was standing and looking in the direction Ricardt had gone. But because Ricardt had returned from another direction, she hadn’t noticed him earlier.

“Marie!”

When Ricardt called out loudly, Marie, who had been waiting without sleep for her husband, turned her head sharply. Then she ran and threw herself into his arms. Not even a full day had passed.

“Why are you up waiting instead of sleeping?”

“It wasn’t supposed to take long. I thought something was wrong…”

“Sorry. I should have sent someone ahead.”

“It’s fine. You were probably too busy on your end.”

“Are the people okay? What’s with the bodies?”

“They were just some guys who kept coming to harass the people here. I killed them.”

“Good job. I was a little late because I had to kill that Ringvalt bastard and gather what I could.”

Though their conversation wasn’t what one would call typical for a married couple, things had ended without trouble, so it was all right.

Just then, a loud crowing of a rooster was heard from the wagon Ricardt had brought. It was the sound announcing the break of day.

“Anyway, I’m glad. I told the group to share some food with the people here since they seemed too starved. I felt a little bad because they agreed even though they probably didn’t want to.”

“You did good, you did good.”

Ricardt stroked Marie’s shoulder and praised her.

Even if the whole world hated and opposed her, as long as Ricardt acknowledged her, Marie was happy. Of course, things had turned out well too.

People were beginning to wake up one by one, and the person who had been on night watch was already awake, staring at the massive supplies Ricardt had brought.

Since they had been living without food or resources, the dead eyes of the people showed a glimmer for the first time in a while.

Ricardt distributed everything to the people. Not keeping a single thing for himself. Because it had originally been theirs to begin with.

Watching Ricardt and Marie’s actions, the companions bound for the Eastern Frontier, including Bremen, felt a strange emotion.

Was it really possible to help others when one could barely take care of oneself and one’s family?

It felt like fresh sprouts emerging as a gentle rain fell upon a heart that had turned to parched earth. A faint surge of emotion tickled their chests.

Everyone carries a devil within their heart, but angels too dwell there. And it was as if the long-dead angel had awoken.

To help others even while gasping for breath amidst hardship, that was how one could remember that they were still human in this wild world.

“By the way, will these people be safe once we leave?”

Still, with a trace of concern in his heart, Bremen asked. Ricardt spoke with a bitter tone.

“All I can do is give them room to breathe. It would be better if they moved elsewhere, but they probably won’t leave.”

Ricardt was not someone who protected commoners. He had no obligation to do so. He merely handed over the weapons taken from the enemies into their hands before leaving with his companions.

“If someone tries to take your property by force, join together and resist. As long as you have courage, you should be able to drive away most lowlifes.”

Whether this was the right thing to do or not, it was the utmost consideration that someone like Ricardt could offer. And that sentiment was deeply conveyed to those who had been harshly exploited under Ringvalt.

Until then, the people had been too drained to even keep their guard up against outsiders, but now, at last, their hearts opened.

An elderly man, hunched over and wrinkled, barely approached Ricardt and asked,

“Sir Hero, may I ask your name?”

“Hmm…”

It wouldn’t have mattered if he just gave his name, but Ricardt rolled his eyes unnecessarily, then replied with a playful grin.

“Just think of me as Kaspar and Julia of the Viola Clan.”

“I see. Please, accept this.”

Even a starving, ragged person, still possessing a human heart, showed gratitude.

To help someone and to express thanks, for that in itself there may be meaning. The process or result might not be as important.

What the elderly man, likely the village chief, offered as a token of gratitude was a well-preserved gold bracelet. The fact that he had kept it instead of selling it even when starving to death suggested it was quite a precious treasure.

The bracelet was ring-shaped, twisted like a rope. The ends did not meet but were carved into the finely detailed heads of dragons facing each other.

"It's a Viking bracelet."

Marie, who was watching from the side, spoke.

Vikings were once the Norsemen from ancient times who had been invaders. Now they had settled into the Empire and assimilated, mostly living as traders.

There were still rumors that some coastal regions remained noisy, but compared to when the Empire was first founded, it was virtually nothing.

And Viking bracelets were given when a boy was recognized as a warrior, or acknowledged by his warrior father as a son. They were never taken off for life, and to have one taken by an enemy was considered more shameful than death.

Why such an item was here, no one knew. And its meaning had faded over the ages, but Ricardt gladly accepted it and put it on his arm right in front of the elder. It fit as if made for him.

“Thank you. I’ll wear it well.”

Ricardt said with a smile. And once again, he resumed his journey. The ox carrying the load walked forward steadily.

After walking for several hours, they reached a part of the road where the bodies, slain just a day before by Ricardt, Kaspar, and Julia, lay scattered.

Upon seeing them, Kaspar suddenly remembered and asked Ricardt,

“By the way, why did you give him our names?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“I mean that village elder earlier. We didn’t really do anything.”

At that, Ricardt grinned cruelly and replied,

“Being famous isn’t always a good thing. There are challengers who come after you just to make a name for themselves. Sure, it helped a bit at Mount Kaitz, but it’s annoying as hell. So, I didn’t give your names to help you, I did it to burden you.”

“……”

“If someone picks a fight or provokes you along the road, just accept that they’re here to kill you and gain fame.”

Fame was a double-edged sword. It brought social advantages, but also turned one into a target.

Especially among swordsmen, having a name meant constantly being called to prove it. That proof came in the form of duels or fights.

Ricardt had been tormented by such things in the past, so to him, fame was just a nuisance. So he simply dumped it on his two greenhorn juniors.

If word spread that it was Kaspar and Julia who had killed the leader of the Ringvalt Sword Brotherhood and dismantled the group, they could gain tremendous fame for mere novices. But if they lacked the skill to match that fame, it could just as easily turn them into a laughingstock. If they were unlucky enough to face a powerful challenger, they might even die.

And it could tarnish the reputation of the Clan as well. But then again, life always has two sides to it.

“You must be tired, but let’s go a bit farther and rest. Take a nap if you can. You did well. Good job.”

Was it because things had wrapped up well, or was that how he truly felt? When praise came from Ricardt’s mouth, Kaspar’s eyes welled up with emotion.

Perhaps it was because he hadn’t slept, was mentally drained, and physically exhausted. But when someone who never seemed like they’d ever praise anyone finally did so, the emotional impact was all the more powerful.

Julia closed her eyes tightly, lowered her head, and let her tears fall in thick drops.

Seeing this, Marie’s eyes widened in surprise as she asked Ricardt,

“What did you put them through for them to end up like this?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Ricky, don’t tell me you went on again about risking your life and all that, did you?”

Ricardt flinched inwardly, wondering if she could somehow eavesdrop on conversations from a thousand miles away, but shook his head.

Marie didn’t hide her suspicious gaze as she continued,

“It’s enough if they can just protect themselves. Not everyone has to become a Sword Master. You have no idea how much I suffered because of that, and now you’re yelling at the kids?”

“I told you, I didn’t do anything. And they’re not kids. How old are they?”

“Fifteen.”

“See? They’re already adults. Think about it. Back when you and I and the others-”

“The world is still dangerous, then and now, but back then, we didn’t have any safety net. Now it’s different. We were forced out and had no choice. But now? We can’t just force them to walk the same path we did.”

“If you only stay behind the fence, you’ll become weak. Then what’s the point of carrying a sword? If you’re going to do it, do it properly. You and Bori have gone soft.”

“There you go again, being stubborn.”

Ricardt had a stubborn personality in his own way, so instead of arguing further or continuing the conversation, he just tightly shut his mouth.

That stubbornness hadn’t gone anywhere, the same that refused to budge even when Bori and Marie made countless corrections while he was writing his swordsmanship manual.

Marie found Ricardt’s sulking expression so cute she nearly laughed. He had once been so resolute that he would clutch a blade and stab his own heart without hesitation, but now, even if he hadn’t lost his stubbornness, he had begun to yield slightly, only to Marie.

But now that Ricardt seemed to be getting scolded, Kaspar and Julia awkwardly averted their gazes and stayed quiet.

As they passed the boundary of Rothheim and followed the road, they found a lone large oak tree standing in the middle of the field.

Thankfully, no one was hanging from it; it merely provided cool shade for the weary travelers.

The group decided to rest there for a meal. Kaspar and Julia were finally able to catch some sleep after a long night.

And though they had been so mentally and physically exhausted that they had forgotten, now in their drowsy state, memories of the previous night naturally came back to them.

The burning sword, the lightning-like strikes. Only the afterimages remained, lingering before their eyes. They couldn’t clearly say what it was they had witnessed. What was certain was that it was a completely different realm.

When they realized that Ricardt was only three years older than them, a wave of despair washed over them.

At the same time, drowsiness overcame them, and their master’s words echoed in their ears. At last, those words seeped into their hearts. It meant to not be arrogant and to stay humble.

There are no geniuses in the world, except for Ricky.

****

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