WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

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◈ Sword Master of the Fallen Kingdom

Chapter 11

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The Nameless Mercenary (11)

"Those guys... what in the world are they?"

Inside the ornate carriage at the center of the procession, soundproofed by magic, plushly appointed, the heavyset Merchant Head leaned out the window and muttered to himself. Four riders had planted themselves across the slope ahead. The timing was off, and their look was too strange for a chance encounter.

"Ordinary mercenaries? Their gear's too good for that."

"......."

"Ha ha, please don't worry yourself, Young master. Dornel is right on our doorstep. What could possibly happen? There are only four of them. Compared to our numbers, that's practically nothing."

The young man's look sent the Merchant Head scrambling to close the window. Then, as if nothing had happened, he launched into a string of reassurances. It was clearly bluster, words to beat back a creeping unease, and the young man let him have it without comment.

The Merchant Head pressed on.

"Besides, this is Count Metis's domain. And we have Sir Mikhail. Most of all, we have Kyle-nim, do we not?"

"That Silver Rank mercenary..."

"Exactly! That white Sword Aura! The swordsmanship that took the Troll's head in a single stroke! I haven't the faintest idea why he's only Silver Rank, but in my estimation he's at least Gold Rank or above. Branch Director Max must have arranged for him to join us on purpose. He must have. Absolutely."

The Merchant Head's voice had swung back to buoyant, as if the dread had never existed. Moods like the weather with this one. The young man noted it privately, though his mind had already slipped back to the night of the massive monster attack.

The swarm that had descended on the camp out of nowhere.

Goblins and orcs, pressing in from all sides.

The Troll, appearing where no Troll should be.

A pure white Sword Aura rising against the moonlit sky.

And before the Troll had even shown itself, a silver blade gliding through the dark.

"Yes... you're right. Nothing will probably happen..."

Several days had passed since then. No real obstacles had come up afterward. The journey had been smooth. All that remained was reaching Dornel by day's end.

Even so, the young man couldn't shake that night from his mind. Kyle's sword, more than anything else. The image of that silver Sword Light crossing the darkness alone had cut so deep it came back in dreams.

Maybe it was just because he was such a timid person.

"Ha ha, yes. We're nearly there. All we have to do is enter Dornel and hand the goods to the count."

"......."

The young man curled inward, clutching the item he'd kept safe with his life for the past month. The acquisition was done. All that remained was the delivery. At this pace, they'd clear Dornel's gates before sundown.

"Oh, Pol-nim is saying something. As expected of the Rusty Blade Mercenary Company's Commander. Times like these call for the man in charge to step up and handle things himself. From the look of it, the negotiation's going smoothly..."

That was when the Merchant Head's face took on a satisfied look.

Crack!

"Hiiyeek!"

His voice cut off. A shriek entirely unfit for his large frame tore out of him. An arrow was buried in the side of the carriage.

Raaaah!

Rough battle cries erupted from both sides at once. Not the escorts of the trading convoy. Not members of the Narme Trade Company. The young man snapped to the side window and saw mercenaries in a panic, figures bursting from the treeline with weapons in hand.

"A-an ambush? Who on earth..."

While the Merchant Head muttered with darting eyes, the young man shoved the window open and thrust his head out toward the front of the convoy. The Merchant Head's cry of alarm didn't reach him. It couldn't. The scene ahead took everything.

Whoooosh!

Blue Magic Stone particles scattered on the wind, blurring his vision.

The dust caught the sunlight and glittered. Almost beautiful.

Fwash!

Three riders descending the slope went sailing through the air. Horses with their lower halves severed clean off crashed to the ground. Beyond them stood Kyle. Same as that night, silver blade in one hand.

***

"Veil, up front!"

"I know!"

The heavy Halberd swung with a low whoosh. A soldier charging in went down in a spray of blood.

The Halberd's reach plus a Silver Rank's raw strength, no one was stopping that. The man right behind stumbled in shock, and Veil switched to a thrust before he could recover, driving the blade through his heart.

Thunk!

"Ghk..."

He pulled it back. The soldier slumped, eyes wide and blank, coughing blood. An arrow grazed past Katrin just then. She ducked fast. It buried itself in a cargo wagon behind her.

"Those cowardly bastards... they really want to do this with me?" Katrin yanked the arrow free.

Crossbows were generally superior to bows in accuracy and punch, but they weren't a straight upgrade in every way. The big one was reload time.

Bows were different.

Rapid fire. That was the edge. No fixed arrow size either, she could use whatever she had. Katrin drew her string and loosed into the treeline, pulled three more arrows from her quiver, and released them in quick succession, one per second.

Fwip. Fwip. Fwip.

Aaaargh! Aagh! Gurghhh...

The screams rolled out of the undergrowth immediately. Katrin smiled.

"Shooting at a Ranger." Veil steadied his breathing. "Worthless bunch. Do they think we're easy?"

Katrin shrugged. Corpses lay scattered in front of him, men who had rushed in with confidence and gone down in a single strike.

"How many are still in there?" He reset his grip on the Halberd.

"Left side is harder to read, but the right forest had five. Four Crossbowmen and one archer. All dead just now, or close enough. Anyone still breathing won't be back in this fight."

"I see."

A quiet sound of approval. A veteran Ranger from a Regular army was something else. The field awareness, the accuracy with a bow, both exceptional.

"Even so... the situation isn't great."

A moment of breathing room let him survey the surroundings. The rear was holding up better, but the middle of the convoy and the front were deep in fierce close-quarters combat. With both sides mixed together, arrows weren't flying freely, but ceding the first strike had hurt. They'd gone in already on the back foot.

Still, numbers were roughly even. The problem was quality. Just as Kyle had said about Regular army soldiers, these men were a clear cut above ordinary hired blades. The veterans of the Rusty Blade Mercenary Company were holding their ground, but the other mercenaries were either panicking or trembling before taking a hit and going down.

"Not great, huh."

"......."

"It's not that bad, though, is it?"

"It isn't?"

Katrin jerked her chin toward the top of the slope.

"The Rusty Blade Mercenary Company is holding up better than expected. And that old knight over there is doing the work of ten men by himself."

Up the slope, the Rusty Blade Mercenary Company was actually pushing the attackers back. Alec, Peter, Mason, the same three who had come to Kyle before with their thanks and apologies. Among the best the Rusty Blade Mercenary Company had to offer, they were as comfortable in man-to-man fighting as they were against monsters, steadily expanding the line without overextending. The middle-aged knight guarding the Merchant Head's carriage was the same. Keeping the carriage intact was his one priority, and every enemy that rushed him went down in a single stroke. Not a wasted motion. Pure efficiency.

"A knight really is something else. He's out of their league."

"And Kyle..."

Veil squinted. The chaos made it hard to see the front clearly. The riders who had been posted on the ridge had long since come down.

"No need to worry about him, is there?"

"Fair enough."

Katrin grinned. Veil nodded, quietly agreeing.

Was it because of the Sword Aura from that night? Or because of the steady calm Kyle carried even in a situation like this?

"He'll handle it just fine."

"Still, we should clean things up on our end."

"Didn't they say there'd be extra pay? Better put in the effort."

"Mm... more money is always better."

A brief exchange, and the two of them headed into the thick of the fighting. Whatever was happening at the front of the trading convoy had already left their minds entirely.

***

The sword path twisted. The blade aimed at Kyle carved nothing but empty air.

Just before the headless horse hit the ground, the man at the lead kicked free of his saddle and leaped clear. Kyle planted his foot forward.

The man's face was still locked in shock. Kyle's magic had rattled him badly.

He's within my range now.

Kyle dropped low, settling into a stance ready to sweep upward at any moment.

In the air, options are limited. A body falling under gravity is easy to read.

His right hand shot the blade forward.

Clang!

A sharp ring, sparks scattering in all directions. The fierce sword strike caught the man mid-air and launched him hard to the side.

"Hit him all at once!"

The man hit the ground and shouted. Glancing back, Kyle saw the three dismounted riders had already recovered, swords in hand and bearing down fast.

Quick thinking. Precise command.

The kind of coordination that only comes from years fighting side by side.

Spears had the reach advantage-a powerful edge in any fight. But for knights who channeled mana into Body Reinforcement as naturally as breathing, spears were only truly useful on horseback. In close-quarters combat, a sword was far more efficient. They knew that, and all three dropped their lances and drew steel the moment they hit the ground. The blades angling for his neck came in sharp and fast.

Pointless, though.

Kyle muttered to himself and eased his grip on the sword. He turned slowly to face the nearest rider. Twisting out of the line of attack, he stepped inside the man's guard and drew the blade outward in a wide arc.

Hsssh.

Steel armor parted smoothly. The hair-thin wind wrapping the blade cut through iron and carved into the flesh underneath. A short, choked death rattle, and all the strength left the first rider's body. Kyle shoved him forward and slipped out to the flank at a low angle. Two more riders stood right in front of him, both thrown off.

Flash!

Light blazed. A severed head tumbled through the air. The second rider's body fell forward. The third followed.

Amid the falling blood, Kyle slowly shook the gore from his blade.

He looked up. The man was staring at him with blank eyes. Four horses and three riders dead in the span of a breath. His voice came out unsteady.

"That's impossible. This... this can't be..."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Kyle."

"A knight?"

"A mercenary."

"Don't lie to me. Our intelligence said there was only one knight with the trading convoy. A single mercenary killing three knights...?"

The man's face had twisted into something hard to name.

He was struggling to accept what he'd just seen.

Denial, then.

Kyle didn't react. He settled into his stance, calm as ever. The blood-wet blade glinted in the midday sun.

"Bad luck, running into me like this."

"......."

"Are you going to run?"

Wind rolled down from the ridge. Grass rustled from all around. Both their cloaks rippled briefly, then went still.

Fighting was still going on behind him. Less chaotic than before. Once the front was settled, the rest would follow. And the outcome would belong to whichever side won right here, right now.

"......."

Rather than answer, the man leveled his sword. Watching him, Kyle reached wordlessly inside his coat.

First: a white Magic Stone. Second: a blue one. Last: one the deep red of blood. He closed his free left hand around two crimson Magic Stones. The man's jaw went tight. He swallowed.

Pssssss,

Red dust scattered through the air.

Snap!

Kyle was gone in an instant, sliding from sight as if he'd been erased. The man's eyes went wide. Kyle had been standing right there a second ago.

Magic? No. Pure speed. Body Reinforcement through mana. Trusting instinct over sight, the man angled his sword diagonally upward.

Clang!

Clear steel rang out. The moment he felt the impact, a chill ran straight down his spine. Kyle had materialized right in front of him.

Two crossed swords. Leaves and debris blasted outward from the shockwave, scattered back by the force. It was a brief exchange, but the man understood.

A fraction slower, and he'd be dead.

He pushed Kyle's blade back and stepped away. Kyle followed in one stride, the way a predator follows prey. A hundred thoughts tore through the man's mind.

Any more ground lost and he'd lose. The decision was instant. The action was faster.

Blue flame bloomed along the man's sword. An instant later, pure white radiance surged up along Kyle's blade.

Sword Aura?

He uses magic and Sword Aura?

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Deep cobalt and snow-white Sword Aura tangled around each other.

Dozens of exchanges in a single second, fragments of spent mana drifting through the air where strikes didn't connect. No flashy techniques. Only pure swordsmanship, each side pressing forward to consume the other. Thrust. Slash. Block. In the middle of a net of Sword Aura where one mistake would cost a limb, Kyle kept driving the man backward, step by step. And in that moment the man understood it in his gut.

He'd lost.

Outmatched. Clearly, unmistakably. In swordsmanship, in the density of Sword Aura.

This can't be happening. I die here?

This isn't possible. It can't,

The chaos in his head cost him half a second of focus. Kyle's blade came through like a knife through silk. Left flank to right shoulder. The burning pain arrived, but his vision was already red by then.

Thunk!

The white blade punched through his sternum. The blue Sword Aura dropped away before it could reach Kyle's neck. The light faded from both swords. The man sank to his knees, blade still through him.

"This... is impossible..."

Cough!

He spat up a mouthful of blood.

"Aren't you afraid... of what comes after?"

"......."

"Do you know... who we..."

"Does it matter?"

"...What?"

The man looked up at Kyle with a lost expression. The dark eyes beneath the hood were still as standing water, not a trace of anything in them.

"Men like you. Nobles."

"......."

"I've killed more of you than I can count. One more changes nothing."

Just as it changed nothing for all the others who died with those same words on their lips.

"Any last words?"

Kyle looked down at him. The man's lips moved a few times. Then his head dropped.

"...I see."

The blade came free. The man's body, eyes gone blank, tilted and fell to the side. Kyle slit his throat and descended the slope. Before anyone quite realized when it had ended, every eye had turned to Kyle, standing over the dead riders.

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