The Warrior’s Ballad
Chapter 94

Translator: Willia

The night grew deeper and the merriment intensified. The flames blazing as if they were dancing seemed to further agitate their already excited hearts.

Vulgar laughter, slurred speech from drunken tongues, and even the sound of panting moans that resembled beasts came from some tents.

Standing guard on a night like this evoked all sorts of emotions. The most vivid among them was a sense of deprivation.

But being an adult and a professional meant knowing how to handle such emotions well. The guards on duty knew they couldn’t just act on a whim.

That didn’t mean they were glaring into the darkness with wide-open eyes, watching to see if enemies were approaching.

They simply rolled dice on a small table near the bonfire, on the outskirts of the camp.

Fairy tales spread messily, the clattering sound of rolling dice, and a spectator leaning heavily on a spear to watch.

Guard duty wasn’t a battle against enemies, but a battle against sleepiness and boredom. If one simply stayed awake and didn’t sleep, that counted as keeping watch. In that sense, they were excellent guards.

“Did you hear?”

One of them asked as he rolled two dice across the table. His eyes were on the dice, and a few coins passed hands. He didn’t seem to care much about winning or losing.

“What?”

“Reggie got her nose bone smashed.”

“Really? How did that happen?”

“Looks like she fought with the Hestein guys.”

“What did the boss say?”

“Said to get compensated and clean it up.”

“How much compensation are they offering?”

“Don’t know. Probably just a few silver coins.”

“With Reggie's personality, that money won't be enough.”

“Exactly. Doesn’t it make no sense that we’re stationed next to those Hestein guys?”

“But what can we do about it.”

“We have to pay them back first.”

By paying back, they meant smashing someone’s nose in return.

Whether Hestein was a guild or a clan was unclear, but it seemed the guards didn’t get along with people from there.

In fact, there wasn’t a single guild or clan that didn’t have grudges or feuds with another. Even Ricardt was basically sworn enemies with the Rubens Guild.

Everyone had entangled and complicated enmities. Putting such people together in one place was bound to cause trouble.

“I’m out.”

“What?”

“Don’t say I’m disloyal. We might really die, you know. He’s the Emperor’s Champion. They said if someone dies in a fight with him, collective responsibility will be enforced.”

“You believe that?”

“What if I don’t? Looking into his eyes, he’s not normal. I think pretty soon, he’s going to make an example of someone no, an entire clan. The timing’s just not good.”

“You, you bastard, are you scared?”

“Hey.”

“Fine, man. Alright. Then just don’t do it. You might be right. Something feels off.”

“Just roll the dice.”

A slight argument nearly broke out, but fortunately, it passed without incident. However, one of the two dice rolled on the small table bounced off.

It rolled quite a distance, and as their eyes followed it, they began to feel a truly strange sign.

“What’s that sound? Did you hear it?”

“What? Huh?”

Though the night had quieted somewhat, only the distant sounds of laughter and chatter could be heard. Yet, buried beneath those sounds, something foreign came from the opposite direction.

Two gamblers and one spectator. All three of them stared intently into the darkness beyond. And the foreign sound gradually became clearer.

“Uhhh…”

It sounded like the moaning of a sick person. And footsteps, shuffling steps, could also be heard. It was definitely approaching.

Then the two gamblers quickly gathered the money on the table and drew their weapons.

“Who’s there?”

The adventurer who had drawn his sword threw a sharply warning question toward the darkness. But no answer came, and at the edge of the firelight, they saw a staggering man walking toward them.

In that moment, the guards on duty frowned. The man who appeared looked too strange to be considered an enemy.

Thick, pitch-black veins had risen all the way up to his neck and face, and he looked like someone in a severely addicted state. That man continued approaching.

“Uuuhhh…”

“Shit, is that an undead or something?”

“Hey, if you’re human, say something. Before you die.”

“Hey, Eram, hand me the spear.”

“Huh? Ah, yes.”

One of the gamblers received a spear from a junior adventurer, then turned it around and poked the approaching man with the blunt end instead of the blade.

“Hey, don’t come any closer. We’re not good people. Whether you die or not, we don’t give a damn.”

But the staggering man kept coming forward even while retreating a few steps.

“Hey, fuck, something’s not right with this.”

“Hey, Eram, go tell the captain. If he’s drunk, crack his skull open to wake him.”

“What the hell is this bastard. Hey!”

The man holding the spear kept poking the staggering man. If he got any angrier, he looked ready to switch his grip and stab with the blade instead.

“Grrk. Gag. Gkkkhhh…”

But the man suddenly gagged like he was about to vomit, and a crimson light shone from beneath his skin.

Their eyes widened in disbelief, wondering what it was, but before they could react, the staggering man’s upper body exploded. It wasn’t just a burst, it was closer to a full-on detonation.

Boom-!

Fragments of bone exploded like shrapnel and struck the adventurer holding the spear. Pieces of flesh and internal organs flew a long distance. A noxious gas with a horrid stench spread everywhere.

Then, with slight time intervals, explosions erupted all over the camp simultaneously.

Bang! Boom-boom! Bang!

The onlooker who had been watching from behind was startled. His face twisted from the stench, but still, he covered his nose and moved to save his comrade. At that moment, a flash of light pierced through the darkness.

Whing!

The adventurer who was about to rescue his companion was decapitated in a single strike. The one who had killed him revealed himself at the edge of the firelight. He wore a pointed mask like a bird’s beak and was draped in a black cloak that covered his entire body.

Meanwhile, the rookie adventurer named Eram was searching for his clan leader. The masked Sword Master entered the campsite.

The camp plunged into chaos in an instant. Screams rang out, and voices cried out urgently, calling others.

“Aaagh!”

“Hector! Hector!”

“Grab your weapons first! Don’t run!”

At that moment, Ricardt, who had been sleeping beside Marie, opened his eyes wide. He instinctively felt something was terribly wrong, threw on some clothes, grabbed his sword, and rushed outside.

Marie hurried out after him, and the two of them witnessed the camp in uproar. Flames could be seen rising in the distance.

“It’s a night raid.”

“Where’s the enemy?”

Ricardt quickly assessed the situation and ran back into his tent to grab his armor.

Marie thought he was going to hastily put it on, but instead, he just slung it over a pole.

“Come this way. Cover me.”

“Okay.”

Ricardt hung his armor on the pole and ran toward where Volka’s tent was located. As he did, he shouted.

“Ricky is here! Ricky is here!”

Then, the adventurers from the Ernburg Branch, who had been floundering in confusion, turned to look.

Ricardt’s armor, hanging from the pole, gleamed in the firelight and was clearly visible from a distance. The surcoat embroidered with violets fluttered in the air.

Unlike the other adventurers, those from Ernburg quickly gathered around Ricardt.

Judging by their condition, they hadn’t even properly equipped themselves, some were missing a shoe. It was a mess, but at least everyone had a weapon in hand.

In a situation like this, there was no time for a headcount or formalities.

Ricardt drove the pole into the ground with brute strength, then looked at the wide-eyed Volka and said,

“If we just defend this spot, we win. You understand what I mean, right?”

Volka, flustered, could only nod his head.

When caught in an ambush, no matter who you were, panic was inevitable. At times like that, you couldn’t afford to scatter in all directions; you had to gather tightly into one.

Ricardt took a wide look around. Dozens of startled and panicked eyes were fixed on him. He was inwardly surprised to see that nearly everyone had already gathered.

In that instant, he quickly counted the number of allies and simultaneously grasped the battlefield situation.

Even amidst the chaos, Ricardt's eyes gleamed as he assessed the direction of the enemy’s ambush, the enemy’s size, the state of his allies, and the opportunity for a counterattack.

It seemed there were fewer enemies than he had expected, and the panic was simply breeding more confusion, like mistaking a pot lid for a snake after being bitten once.

And surprisingly, despite the disorder, the allies weren’t running away in a frenzy.

If they had been soldiers in a regular army, they might have fled in a mass, but since they were split by clans, they were acting based on their usual habits.

Adventurers didn’t have much experience in large-scale battles, but they had plenty of experience in smaller skirmishes.

Even if they couldn’t rally as quickly as Ricardt, they were still gathering around their clan leaders and responding to the chaos in their own way.

Then Ricardt’s eyes locked onto one enemy. It was a Sword Master wearing a mask that jutted out like a bird’s beak.

The tents nearby kept obscuring and revealing him, but Ricardt noticed that this guy didn’t seem to know how to fight all that well.

Though he had trained hard enough to become a Sword Master, he didn’t seem to have any tactical objective. He wasn’t trying to seize the command post or annihilate anyone, there was no clear goal.

From the start, there were too few enemies to attempt annihilation, and since he wasn’t a mounted knight, he couldn’t quickly break through to the command structure. He was just focused on killing whatever was in front of him.

Because of that, he was actually killing even fewer. He was so distracted that he seemed to be flailing wildly without a plan.

Just like only those who’ve eaten meat know how to enjoy it properly, his arson was pathetically sloppy. That’s not how it’s done.

Did they really think they’d win just by throwing in a few Sword Masters? To others, he might have looked terrifying, but to Ricardt, he was nothing impressive.

“The rest of you stay here. Volka will lead. Put out the fires around us. Don’t worry about getting water, just make sure the flames don’t spread. Marie, Ice, Bori, come with me.”

Ricardt, without even properly putting on his armor and carrying only a single arming sword, headed toward the enemy with his companions to kill.

At that moment, the enemy, who had been chasing someone and barely managed to kill one person, or sometimes missed due to the tents and slashed at them in vain, noticed Ricardt and his group approaching.

Thinking it was a good opportunity, he rushed toward them. Marie drew her sword and confronted him. The two Sword Masters clashed, each radiating a different light.

Claaang-!

An incredible metallic sound, unlike anything heard before, burst out, tearing at their eardrums. In that moment, Boribori and Ice drew their swords like lightning and launched a pincer attack.

The enemy, not expecting Marie to be a Sword Master, panicked and quickly retreated in a fluster. Though Boribori and Ice weren’t Sword Masters yet, they were far from weak.

As the two blades flashed, the enemy instantly lost one arm. Yet, perhaps through the power of faith, even as his arm flew off, he twisted his body to avoid a fatal blow and extended his sword in an attempt to kill Marie.

But with a dull sound, his neck twisted and he dropped dead on the spot. Ricardt had delivered a high kick from his blind spot.

It was a kick infused with the monstrous strength of the legendary hero Ilya, and if it hit the head, survival was unlikely.

Crack!

The shattered mask flew and rolled on the ground, and the enemy collapsed with his head bent more than ninety degrees. Marie stabbed his throat to ensure the kill.

Ricardt looked around again. He was honestly a little surprised that the adventurers hadn’t fled as much as expected and were, in their own way, holding the camp. Not bad, huh?

The area around the campfire was in complete disarray, but as time passed, the chaos gradually began to subside.

Ricardt spotted another Sword Master and immediately ran toward him. However, someone else arrived first. It was Hellauman.

Though the adventurers' response had been commendable, it seemed Hellauman’s efforts played a large part in restoring order. He might not have been a capable military commander, but when it came to the sword, he was hailed as the strongest in the entire Empire.

Blood was splattered slightly on his face and clothes, as if he had already slain several enemies. And he wore a beaming smile, as if he were truly enjoying himself.

Hellauman looked at the masked enemy and spoke.

“We too once produced people like you through what we called the final exam. But now it’s been discontinued. Do you know why that is?”

“......”

“Because they’re useless. A dog that bites its master is of no use. They all break down in the same way.”

Hellauman, unusually, appeared to be very excited. He didn’t seem entirely sane, but Ricardt could strangely understand it. He was happy to have finally met a worthy opponent.

“To become a Sword Master by slicing away pity and compassion... But I was born without such things. That’s why I still find this fun, and you, you're probably bored out of your mind. That’s the difference between you and me. The only regret is that there’s no real pleasure in the slicing.”

Hellauman’s sword was imbued with mana. It glowed blue, but the density was unlike that of any other Sword Master. Wisps of blue smoke rose in steady streams.

In comparison, the blade of the Holy Knight from the Order of Judgement looked like a mere firefly under the moon.

A duel between Sword Masters was a rare sight, and before long, a crowd of adventurers had gathered silently around them to watch.

Hellauman walked toward his opponent. From the sheer pressure he emitted, the outcome already seemed decided. Even among Sword Masters, the gap in skill was evident.

Then the enemy suddenly shouted and charged at Hellauman.

“By the oath of God! I fought to the end!”

He was fast, but far too simple. And his sword style resembled Ice’s in some ways.

But Hellauman boldly stepped into the path of the enemy’s sword.

In that incredibly brief moment, he slipped past the enemy’s blade like a gentle breeze. Then, using only his wrist, he spun his sword and slashed the opponent’s waist with all his might.

The sword, honed to an extreme sharpness, sliced the waist cleanly with almost absurd ease.

The Holy Knight’s upper body, propelled by momentum, flew forward slightly, while the lower body collapsed to the ground. Between the severed torso and legs, blood splashed and long intestines spilled messily.

Before the enemy even hit the ground, Hellauman had already sheathed his sword. Not even a single drop of blood stained the blade.

His neatly slicked-back hair hadn’t moved an inch. Even so, he swept his side hair back with one hand.

When the adventurers witnessed the skill and power of someone who had transcended humanity, they were so stunned that they couldn’t even cheer. He was truly a superhuman. A terrifying superhuman.

The Emperor was dead, the throne remained vacant, yet the Champion still stood strong.

But for Hellauman, the joy lasted only a brief moment before a wave of emptiness rushed in.

He glanced toward Ricardt and Marie, then turned to the adventurers and left them with a single word before returning to his tent.

“Clean it up.”

Marie’s hand trembled slightly. It was because she had just begun to think she had escaped his grip, but after witnessing his overwhelming display, she felt anxiety and despair. If that man were to try and make her his puppet again, could she even resist?

Ricardt took her hand.

They had repelled the night raid, but they still had no idea who the real enemy was.

****

For more chapters, you can check out my Patreon here –> https://patreon.com/warriorsballad