WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Ode of the Brave ◈

Chapter 95

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“They’re vicious bastards.”

Ricart spoke with his back to the camp, still in disarray after the overnight attack. He was looking down at the remains of an exploded human body.

“It looks like the Church has a necromancer. Like with the Ernberg Five.”

They had never faced one directly, but Ricart and Boribori had seen the terrible traces and atrocities left behind by necromancers.

This was why mages always left a bad taste in their mouths. People had good reason to dislike them, and Ricart and Boribori felt the same.

“Not a necromancer. A curse mage.”

It was Daisy’s voice. Ricart and Boribori turned to find her standing with Ice. Instead of a white mourning robe, she wore shabby everyday clothes, her long blond hair hanging loose.

“You can’t go, Ricky.”

Ricart stared at Daisy.

“Then where am I supposed to go?”

“Let’s go far away together.”

“Far away where?”

“Just far away.”

“Sorry, but I’m not running. You don’t have to follow me.”

You ran yesterday, Boribori thought, though he did not say it aloud.

“Ernberg, assemble!”

“You’re being called to assemble!”

“Assembly! Assembllllle!”

Shouts calling everyone together rose from the camp. Ricart and Boribori said nothing as they passed Daisy and headed for the gathering place.

Once everyone had gathered in front of Volka’s tent, Volka came out, climbed onto a wooden crate, and spoke. Ricart stood with an arm around Marie’s waist, listening to his friend and commander.

“As you all know, some fucked-up shit happened yesterday. But the commander says he’s happy with how we handled it. And what else was it? Oh, right. You saw those fucking bastards playing around with magic, didn’t you? Look, fuck, I know you don’t give a damn about the Church or the Emperor. Hell, neither do I. But this isn’t right, is it? Those bastards are a complete cult, and demon worshippers. Are we really supposed to let people like that live?”

It was a speech very much like Volka, more like he was talking to his friends. Ricart heard quiet snickering from several places.

“Hey, don’t laugh. I’m serious. Anyway, we have one goal. Kill everyone inside that Holy Temple or whatever it is. Don’t spare children or women. We don’t need prisoners either. But we’ve been told not to mess with anything inside. Don’t set fires. As you already know, the rewards are either money or land, so they said we’d better listen while they’re asking nicely. Uh, and…”

Volka studied the paper in his hand. He was not illiterate, but perhaps he could not read his own awful handwriting. He frowned at it for a long while.

In the end, an adventurer who acted as Volka’s adjutant told him from beside him.

“The sword. The holy sword.”

“Oh, right. We’ll push in from the east toward the center of the Holy Temple. They say the holy sword is at the center. Looks like it’s important to those cultists, so we either smash it or take it. We’ll secure the convent area first. Kill everyone you see. They aren’t real nuns. Got it? Anyone not understand?”

One of those seated raised a hand. Volka pointed at them with his chin.

“You said we’d split into groups. What happened to that?”

“There won’t be any of that. They think it’s best for us to operate with the clans we usually work with. The whole force will be divided into four large units and attack from four directions. We have the east.”

They seemed determined to keep things as simple as possible. It seemed right to Ricart, and he had no objection.

“So we won’t be working with another guild or anything?”

“That doesn’t apply to us. It would only make things inconvenient. Besides.”

Volka gestured toward Ricart and Marie this time. Everyone immediately understood.

With a Sword Master, Ricart, Boribori, and Ice, assigning more soldiers to them might have been a waste.

And as Volka said, it was better to go into battle with people they were used to.

Working with strangers could leave them out of sync. If conflict arose while they were out of sync, even things that should work would fall apart.

“Lastly, listen to Ricky in battle. No exceptions. Got it?”

Everyone nodded without the slightest complaint. It was not simply because Ricart was famous. They had experienced it firsthand.

They knew from experience that Ricart’s judgment, decisiveness, and ability to solve problems always led to the right answer.

“That’s a lot of pressure.”

Ricart spoke quietly. He was used to operating alone or leading a small group of friends, but this was his first time being responsible for so many lives.

“I’ll protect you.”

Marie whispered.

“Ricky, do you want to say something too?”

Volka asked. Ricart smiled and shook his head.

“Fine. The operation begins in three days. It might seem early, but the people who arrived first have been eating, drinking, and lazing around here for more than ten days already. We stopped the night raid well, so we should keep the momentum going. Get your gear in order, and cut back on the drinking. Dismissed.”

Volka waved them away, and the adventurers scattered in small groups. They had hardened themselves in battle through all kinds of requests, so they did not look especially tense.

Still, the goal of the operation was extermination. Ricart understood why, but it left him uneasy.

How had things ended up like this? The question suddenly came to him. God, or demons. He was becoming sick of people who saw only what they wanted to see.

Whether it was the Church of Judgment or the Imperial Family, Ricky from his previous life might have been no more than an excuse to them.

An excuse to justify what they were doing.

Ricart pulled Marie closer into his arms. It seemed to comfort him a little.

Once the operation was decided, the drinking and partying died down considerably. The adventurers gathered their resolve and carefully maintained their weapons.

One adventurer, perhaps having fallen for a prostitute, declared that he would marry her if they met again.

Three days later, Ricart and the adventurers departed at dawn. Naturally, they had no siege equipment. All they had were ladders.

Daisy came along as well. As the Holy Temple drew closer, she and Ice grew visibly anxious.

After walking without rest for five or six hours, they saw a lowland castle standing alone in the middle of a distant field. A few people stood atop the walls, but when they spotted the approaching adventurers, they disappeared from sight.

What defensive forces could a cult even have? The castle was rather grand, yet there was not a single soldier guarding the walls.

Ricart followed Volka to the eastern wall. The small gate Daisy had emerged from was already closed and completely blocked by a pile of rubble.

It did not matter, since there were no enemy soldiers to stop them even if they set ladders against the wall and climbed.

There were few clouds, and the sunlight was bright. Only the cool breeze felt strangely desolate. Now that they had actually arrived at the Church’s Holy Temple, an odd sense of unease filled the air.

No one stepped forward readily, so Ricart fastened a clothes-iron-shaped shield to his left arm and climbed the ladder first. Reaching the top of the wall, he looked over the inside and saw buildings fit for people to live in, along with other auxiliary facilities.

Ricart motioned for the vanguard, including Volka, Marie, and Boribori, to come up. Then he gave his orders.

“Open the gate. Carefully check over there and there to see whether anyone’s inside. We were told to kill anyone we find, so kill them if they’re there. First, let’s secure this place. Then we’ll head for the center, and if things go bad, we fall back here. This is our gathering point.”

“Got it.”

By now, Volka understood without needing much explanation and nodded at once. He went down into the castle by the stairs, cut the ropes, and opened the gate. Forty adventurers poured inside.

Volka divided them into groups by clan and ordered them to search the buildings. Ricart kept a close watch on the surroundings in case there was an ambush.

Daisy worried that the nuns, who were like sisters to her, might be harmed. But fortunately, or unfortunately, they were not here. The place was simply empty.

“Why is nobody here? It doesn’t look like they ran.”

“Maybe they’re preparing for a last stand farther inside.”

“Daisy, do you know this place well?”

Ricart asked.

“No. The nuns hardly ever leave this area. Only I went outside sometimes.”

“What about Ice?”

“This is my first time in the convent area too. The holy knight training grounds are near the south gate.”

The wide rectangular lowland castle seemed divided into separate sections. Tall walls blocked the roads, so to reach the center, they would have to pass through another gate.

Still, it was far too quiet. Had they surrendered, or were they preparing for a last stand, as Marie had said?

Ricart took his time examining the surroundings. He climbed the wall again to see whether anyone was hiding outside and looked for a way to contact the other infiltration groups.

But the strangely designed castle could not be seen from afar unless they went all the way around the walls.

“Leave about ten people here, then let’s break open that gate. Keep watch outside from the wall.”

“Got it, Ricky.”

At Ricart’s order, the adventurers brought over a heavy log. Four people stood on each side and rammed it into the gate. But it did not seem to be locked. It simply flew open.

A dark indoor corridor stretched out before them.

It was midday outside, but the corridor was pitch-black. Sunlight reached only near the entrance. Farther in, it was as black as a demon’s throat. It felt deeply ominous.

“Bring the sandbags.”

When the adventurers brought the ones they had prepared, Ricart tossed the heavy sandbags down the corridor to check for traps.

Sure enough, when he threw the third or fourth one, sharp spearheads shot up from the floor with a Shing!

“Vile bastards…”

Boribori muttered. It was the first time he had seen such an elaborate trap, and it sent a chill through him. There was something insidiously aggressive about traps.

Once they confirmed the traps, adventurers carrying two-handed hammers moved in. They advanced slowly, smashing apart the floor and walls with great care.

The walls bore delicate carvings of gargoyles and monsters, close to works of art. It was strange that people who believed in a god would make things like this.

Since they had to check every step before moving forward, their pace could not help but be slow. But it was necessary for safety.

The adventurers each had their roles. As the hammer-wielders smashed their way forward, others took turns relieving them and hung torches along the walls.

Then, about halfway down the corridor, they found a door leading into a room.

Ricart had the adventurers step back, then pressed himself against the wall and listened carefully.

He was checking for signs of people inside. He did not press his ear directly to the door because someone inside could suddenly thrust a spear through it.

Once his sharp senses determined that enemies were inside, Ricart kicked the door without warning. Crash! The hinges broke in a single blow, and the door flew open.

“Gasp!”

But when the inside was revealed, he could not help drawing in a sharp breath. Wondering what it was, Boribori, Volka, Ice, Marie, and the other adventurers peered inside as well.

They were just as horrified as Ricart.

“Gasp!”

“Fuck!”

There was no way they could not curse.

The room was a human experimentation chamber.

Horrific scenes beyond anything they had ever imagined lay before them. No physical attack had been made, yet it was difficult for their minds to endure the sight.

Bizarre diagrams had been drawn on the walls in blood. Body parts that had not yet been disposed of were piled in the corners, and terrible torture tools covered in dried blood and hair lay scattered across the tables.

Maggots swarmed everywhere. The smell of chemicals, filth, and rotting corpses mixed together into a stench beyond description.

By the nature of their profession, adventurers often saw terrible sights. They had a certain resistance to brutality.

But this was different.

Unless they were truly beyond all restraint, even the roughest adventurers and mercenaries had their limits. For example, even those who loved plunder would leave monasteries alone, or would not kill babies and pregnant women.

But this went far beyond any limit.

If people did things like this, how could anyone tell humans apart from demons?

“They are holy martyrs.”

Someone suddenly spoke from beyond the black corridor. Everyone present whipped their heads around. A person wearing a tall, pointed hood with holes for their eyes stared at them.

“At least I know you’re talking complete bullshit.”

Ricart spoke through clenched teeth, his eyes blazing as though beams of light might burst from them and pierce the other person.

“Whether you understand or not, the Resurrection is near.”

With that, the person turned and tried to disappear into the darkness.

“Kill that son of a bitch!”

Volka shouted.

The crossbowmen reacted first. They fired their already loaded crossbows all at once.

Thunk! Thududum! Thunk!

Two or three bolts struck the person in the back, but they kept walking as if nothing had happened. When the adventurers tried to chase after them, Ricart stopped them.

“Don’t go!”

The adventurers turned as if to ask why.

“Not all the traps have been cleared. It could be bait.”

Even in his anger, he remained perfectly calm.

Unable to contain his rage, Volka gave the adventurers an order.

“Hey, bring the torches. Burn it all.”

“But the commander told us not to set fires.”

“Fuck, I’ll take responsibility. Just burn it all.”

In truth, the adventurers wanted to do the same. Without hesitation, they poured oil over the experimentation chamber and set it alight.

But what on earth had they been experimenting on?

That wicked curiosity passed through all their hearts.

Then the flames rose as if cleansing such thoughts. Thick smoke had nowhere to escape, so it spilled out into the corridor.

At that moment, heretics carrying bows and crossbows emerged from the darkness. They swiftly took position with practiced movements and unleashed a volley.

Startled, Ricart pressed tightly against the wall and raised his shield to reduce the area exposed to attack.

“Everyone, get against the wall!”

But some failed to move in time and were struck by arrows. Fortunately, there were not many casualties, but the darkness and shaken state of mind made fear come suddenly.

“Aaargh!”

“Fuck! I’ve been hit!”

“Shields! Shields!”

“Bring potions!”

The scene fell into chaos in an instant. Yet the adventurers did not run. They sheltered themselves as best they could and held firm.

Still, after the horrific sight they had witnessed and the situation they now faced, fear began to creep into them.

Then, from the direction Ricart and the others had come from, an urgent cry rang out.

“Captain! Captaaaain!”

Volka’s eyes widened at the ominous feeling. Ricart felt it too.

“What is it?”

“There are enemies outside! A Sword Master!”

Ricart ran on reflex, with Marie and Boribori following.

But the enemy holy knights killed the adventurer who had raised the alarm. Perhaps they had never intended to fight, because they slammed the door shut.

Then a massive stone door dropped down with a Thud!

The sunlight was cut off, and darkness seemed to descend upon them with crushing weight. Torches lit the area, but only dimly nearby.

At that moment, everyone thought the same thing.

They were fucked.

But not Ricart.

Just as everyone’s fighting spirit was about to break in the face of despair, Ricart drew his sword and shouted fiercely.

“If the way behind us is blocked, we break through ahead! Good! Let’s finish this!”

Then, traps or not, he charged the enemies by himself. They were loading their next volley.

“Let’s finish this!”

Boribori and Marie shouted as they followed him. Fear had only just begun to wash over the adventurers, but the sight of those brave people drove them half mad.

“Let’s finish this!”

As more than thirty grown men roared, even the darkness seemed to recoil in surprise. For that moment, they felt no fear.

Then they charged after Ricart.

The enemies loading their next arrows panicked, their hands fumbling. They fired, but unlike the first volley, they could not form a proper barrage, and the attack was weaker.

Ricart, charging at the front, held his shield forward and threw himself into an enemy.

Thump!

For a moment, he and the enemy tumbled together. Then Ricart sprang up and swung his sword. It looked wild, but every strike was precise. Enemies fell one after another.

He kicked, rammed them with his head, and brought his sword down with all his strength. From shoulder to heart, flesh and ribs were split apart. By the time he braced his foot against the body and pulled his blade free, his allies had arrived and swept away the remaining enemies.

Normally, people could not show their usual skill in a chaotic melee.

Ricart was the opposite.

Once the fight became a melee, he went wild like a fish returned to water. Compared to fighting in that swamp-like hell of Fernland in his previous life, this was as comfortable as a bed.

The adventurers slaughtered the enemies in an instant. In the blink of an eye, the corridor became a sea of blood.

At this point, it was hard to tell who the demons were.

Ricart knew how to become a demon in hell.

His lungs throbbed, but it was nothing. In his previous life, he had fought while cauterizing wounds with red-hot blades. He had seen fellow soldiers who had lost their arms and legs burn with fighting spirit until the very end.

So he would not complain over something as trivial as difficulty breathing.

What was death, anyway?

Ricart removed the shield embedded with arrows and threw it to the floor. A Clang! echoed through the corridor, and his blood-soaked friends and the adventurers all looked at him.

To them, Ricart now looked different from usual. He was not the relaxed swordsman who displayed extraordinary genius.

He was closer to a savage warrior.

But that was closer to his true self.

His eyes seemed to burn, and his mouth looked ready to growl like a beast at any moment.

Perhaps, after seeing the terrible depths of humanity and facing danger, something that had slept deep within Ricart had naturally risen to the surface.

Ricart pulled his cape over, wiped the blood from his sword, and spoke.

“Let’s go.”

Then he walked into the black darkness, like a demon’s throat.

His friends and the adventurers followed behind him.

As Ricart said, if there was no way back, they only needed to break through ahead.

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