WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 106

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All they could see were streaks of light. Some swept in wide arcs, others slashed straight down. It was as though flashes of light were embroidering the dark night.

When people witnessed something too astonishing, they could only be overwhelmed by the moment. That was what happened to Kaspar and Yulia.

They could not even think enough to feel awe or admiration. They were simply overwhelmed.

For their enemies, of course, it ended horribly. Blood sprayed, bodies fell, and the darkness of night covered them like a shroud.

The movements flowed together like water, seeming both violent and unhurried, while the sword itself was like crackling lightning.

Every stroke held opposites within it, simple and concise yet soft and strong, swift and slow.

Ricart's swordsmanship could not possibly be explained in words. It had to be seen, and even then, it could not be understood.

Before anything else, though, Kaspar and Yulia found it chillingly beautiful. Was this truly swordsmanship? Was it not a painting?

Ricart swung his sword wide to the right, then raised it high over his head. Clenching his teeth, he brought it down with all his strength as though pulling something toward him, ending Ringwald's uneasy remaining days.

A diagonal afterimage like lightning remained in the air, but no thunder followed.

Standing there blankly from the immense shock, Ringwald could not offer even the slightest resistance as he was cut from his right shoulder to his left waist. It was truly difficult to witness the ultimate Sword Master standing before you and still find the will to fight.

Hot blood and entrails spilled out in a heap.

Ricart grabbed Ringwald by the hair from among the pieces of his fallen body and lifted his head. Bodies lay around him, and some people were still alive, but he paid none of it any mind. He had overwhelmed them with something beyond mere force of presence.

The enemies who remained alive could do nothing but tremble. It was as though they had witnessed a ghost or a demon.

Ricart left the castle holding Ringwald by the hair. With every step, splash, splash sounded through the blood pooled on the ground.

The swordsmen had gathered around the castle after sensing that something was wrong inside. When Ricart emerged holding a piece of Ringwald's body, its arm dangling loose, their eyes went wide.

Ricart flung the mangled remains of Ringwald before them, then spoke with the burning sword in one hand.

Flames burned along the blade in the dark night. Flickering golden fire dimly lit only Ricart's profile. He did not look like a human being who could exist in reality.

He spoke.

“Ringwald is dead. I killed him. If you don't leave this place before dawn, you will all die too.”

It was both a declaration and a sentence. One against many? There was no such thing. The one granting mercy through overwhelming everyone was not the crowd, but a single person.

This was not about fighting numerous enemies with fewer people and surviving. It was about clearly showing them that their lives and deaths were in his hands. Everyone understood that perfectly.

Above all, the scent of blood spread far through the night, making those who looked at Ricart shudder even more.

“What are you standing around for? Get lost! Get the hell out, you maggots!”

At Ricart's shout, everyone flinched and began scrambling about. They hurriedly gathered what they had looted and scattered in every direction.

That was the kind of people they were. They were always ready to run when the situation turned against them.

The pimps and merchants who had made their living off the thugs, however, slipped between the houses and hid themselves. It seemed the ruler had changed, and they intended to offer bribes and keep doing business.

Ricart did not bother driving out such parasites as well.

After settling matters, Ricart sheathed his sword and returned to the castle, entering the Inner Castle.

It was not very large, so it did not take long to find the wealth Ringwald had amassed.

What the thugs had looted was no more than a handful compared to what Ringwald had taken. He possessed all the real treasures.

Ricart called Kaspar and Yulia, who were still standing outside the Inner Castle in a daze.

“Find a wagon or cart outside. Let's load this up and take it with us.”

Kaspar and Yulia moved at Ricart's words like puppets on strings, without any awareness of what they were doing. Their faces were completely vacant.

They brought out the packhorses from the stable and harnessed them, then went back and forth through the Inner Castle, loading sacks of food and treasure. Ricart helped too.

They took all the livestock as well, cows, pigs, and chickens, and left the castle with the wagons, stepping through mud mixed with blood.

Some thugs had scattered and fled, while others still stood there blankly, watching. No one stepped forward to stop them or avenge their leader. They only stared.

And so, just three people destroyed the Sword Brotherhood and calmly departed. Though Ricart had handled almost all of it alone.

Ricart led the way, holding the reins in one hand and a torch in the other. Visibility was no more than a few meters in the dark night, but there was only one route, so it was fine.

It was not until the cool edge of dawn that Ricart, Kaspar, and Yulia returned to the village where their group had been staying. There were bodies here too.

Unlike the castle, which had been a chaotic sea of blood, the bodies here had at least been laid side by side beside a building and covered with cloth.

Already exhausted, Kaspar and Yulia were startled, fearing something had gone wrong, but that was not the case.

Marie stood with a sword at her waist and her arms crossed, looking in the direction Ricart had gone. But Ricart had come from another direction, so she had not seen him approaching.

“Marie!”

When Ricart called loudly, Marie, who had waited for her husband without sleeping, whipped around. Then she ran over and threw herself into his arms. A day had not even passed.

“Why are you waiting instead of sleeping?”

“It shouldn't have taken that long, so it was strange...”

“Sorry. I should've sent someone back.”

“No, you must have been busy over there too.”

“Are the people all right? What are those bodies?”

“They're people who come by now and then just to torment the people here, so I killed them.”

“Good job. I killed the man named Ringwald too, and it took me a while to gather what we could take.”

It was a strange conversation for a married couple to have, but they were both safe and unharmed, so it was all right.

Then a vigorous rooster crowed from the wagon Ricart had brought. Dawn was approaching.

“Anyway, that's a relief. I told everyone we should share some food because the people here seemed so hungry. I felt bad because they went along with it even though they didn't really want to.”

“You did well. You did well.”

Ricart praised Marie as he stroked her shoulder.

Even if everyone else hated it and opposed it, Marie was happy as long as Ricart acknowledged her. Of course, things had gone well too.

People began waking up little by little, while those who had stood night watch were already awake and staring at the enormous supplies Ricart had brought.

After living without enough to eat or own, the dead look in their eyes shone for the first time in a long while.

Ricart distributed everything among them. He kept nothing for himself. It had been theirs in the first place.

Watching Ricart and Marie, Bremen and the others traveling to the Eastern Frontier felt something strange.

Was it possible to help others when it was difficult enough just to care for yourself and your family?

It felt as though gentle rain had fallen on hearts as dry as barren ground, allowing green shoots to rise. A faint swell of emotion tickled their chests.

Everyone carried a demon in their heart, but they also had an angel. It felt as though angels long dead were awakening.

Helping others even while struggling to survive. In this wilderness of a world, it was a way to remember that one was human.

“But will these people be safe after we leave?”

Bremen still seemed worried. Ricart answered bitterly.

“What I can do is give them room to breathe. It would be better if they went elsewhere, but they probably won't leave this place.”

Ricart was not someone who protected common people. He had no obligation to do so. Before leaving with the group, he simply placed the weapons taken from the enemies into their hands.

“If someone tries to take your property by force, join together and resist. If you have courage, you should be able to drive off most rabble.”

Whether it was right or not, it was the greatest consideration Ricart could offer. And it reached those who had been brutally exploited under Ringwald.

Until then, they had not even had the strength to be wary of outsiders, but their hearts finally opened.

A bent, wrinkled elder made their way to Ricart with great difficulty and asked,

“May I ask the hero's name?”

“Hmm...”

There was no problem with simply giving his name, but Ricart rolled his eyes as though thinking it over, then smiled mischievously.

“It's Kaspar and Yulia of the Viola Clan.”

“I see. Please, accept this.”

Though they were ragged and starving, they still had human hearts and wished to show their gratitude.

Helping someone, and expressing gratitude. Perhaps that alone had meaning, while the process and outcome did not matter so much.

What the elder, seemingly the village chief, offered in gratitude was a well-preserved gold bracelet. Since they had kept it rather than sell it even when close to starving to death, it must have been a very precious treasure.

The bracelet was shaped like a twisted rope ring, with its ends not quite meeting. Delicately carved dragon heads faced one another at the open ends.

“A Viking bracelet.”

Marie, who had been watching beside him, spoke.

Vikings were what the Nords had been called in the old days, when they were invaders. Now they had settled in the Empire and assimilated, or mostly lived through trade.

There were still rumors that some coasts remained unruly, but compared to when the Empire had first been founded, it was almost nothing.

A Viking bracelet was given when a boy was recognized as a warrior, or when a warrior father recognized him as his son. They never removed it for their entire lives and considered having it taken by an enemy more shameful than death.

Ricart did not know why such an object was here, and its meaning had faded over the long years. Still, he gladly accepted it and put it on his arm before the elder. It fit perfectly.

“Thank you. I'll wear it well.”

Ricart smiled, then set off again. The ox carrying the load plodded faithfully onward.

After walking for several hours and reaching a crossroads, they saw the bodies of those Ricart, Kaspar, and Yulia had killed the previous day, scattered across the ground.

As though he had just remembered, Kaspar asked Ricart,

“But why did you give them our names?”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“To that elder in the village. We didn't actually do anything.”

Ricart smiled cruelly.

“Fame isn't a good thing. Challengers come after you for the value of your name. I did benefit from it a little in the Kaits Mountains, but it's a real nuisance. So I didn't give them your names for your sake. I told them so you'd feel the burden.”

“...”

“If someone picks a fight with you or provokes you on the road, think, Ah, this person came to kill me and gain fame.”

Reputation was like two sides of a coin. It could bring social advantages, but it could also make someone a target.

Especially among swordsmen, earning a name meant constantly being asked to prove oneself. That proof meant duels and fights.

Ricart had suffered over that for some time, so he considered fame nothing but a nuisance. That was why he had simply passed it on to his two inexperienced juniors.

If word spread that Kaspar and Yulia had killed the leader of the Ringwald Sword Brotherhood and destroyed the group, they could gain remarkable fame for novices. But if their skill did not match it, they could become a tremendous laughingstock instead. If they were unlucky enough to encounter a powerful challenger, they might even die.

It could also damage the clan's reputation. Still, life had always been two-sided.

“You must be tired, so let's go a little farther and rest. Take a nap if you want. You worked hard. You did well.”

Perhaps because things had ended well, or perhaps this was what he truly felt, praise came from Ricart's mouth. Kaspar felt something swell within him, and his eyes reddened.

Maybe it was because he had not slept, was mentally drained, and was physically exhausted. But when someone who seemed incapable of praise finally praised you, it had an extraordinary effect.

Yulia squeezed her eyes shut, bowed her head, and let tears fall.

Seeing them, Marie's eyes widened as she asked Ricart,

“How hard did you push them to make them like this?”

“I didn't do anything.”

“Ricky, you didn't start talking about risking their lives and all that again, did you?”

Ricart felt a pang of guilt, thinking, Can she eavesdrop on conversations from miles away? But he shook his head.

Marie did not lower her suspicious gaze.

“They only need to be able to protect themselves. Not everyone has to become a Sword Master. I went through so much over that, and you're going to pressure the kids like that?”

“I said I didn't do anything. And they're not kids. How old are you two?”

“Fifteen.”

“See? They're already adults. Think about it. You, me, and the others were even younger when we...”

“The world was dangerous then, and it is dangerous now, but we had no shelter back then. That isn't true now. We were driven out and had no choice. But now? We can't force them to live the way we did.”

“...If they stay inside a shelter, they'll only become weak. Then why carry a sword? If you're going to do it, do it properly. Bori and you, Marie, are both too soft.”

“There you go, being stubborn again.”

Ricart was stubborn by nature as well, so instead of arguing further or continuing the conversation, he pressed his lips shut.

The temperament that had refused to change his mind no matter how much Bori and Marie pointed things out while he wrote the swordsmanship manual had not gone anywhere.

Marie almost laughed at Ricart's sulking expression. He had once been so resolute that he had gripped a blade and tried to stab his own heart, but now, even if he did not yield his position, he took one step back. Only for Marie.

Still, once the atmosphere turned as though Ricart was being scolded, Kaspar and Yulia quietly looked away as well.

After they crossed Rotheim's border and followed the road, a large oak tree stood alone in the middle of a field.

Fortunately, no one hung from it. It merely cast cool shade for the weary.

The group decided to rest there and have a meal. At last, Kaspar and Yulia could get some sleep after staying up through the night.

Their bodies and minds were so exhausted that they had forgotten for a while, but in their hazy state, the events of the previous night naturally resurfaced.

The burning sword, sword strikes like lightning. Only afterimages lingered before their eyes, and they could not clearly remember what they had seen. What was clear was that it had been a realm on an entirely different level.

When they realized there was only a three-year difference between themselves and Ricart, self-loathing washed over them.

At the same time, drowsiness came over them, and their master's words lingered in their ears. At last, those words sank into their hearts. They meant not to be arrogant, but to be humble.

There were no geniuses in the world.

Except Ricky.

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