Sword Pilgrim

"The Orcs have been meticulously accumulating their strength. They've prepared steadily, with their past defeats as a stepping stone."

The roar of axes forged in bitter defeat had been mixed in the howling northern winds for many years.

The North Wind carved through the flesh of combatants and engraved deep wounds on the castle walls.

"Aaaaaaah!!"

The sounds of screams resounded across the North.

Kwaaang!

As the Orcs advanced, giant demonic beasts also rushed by their side one after another.

When the human soldiers tried to block the demonic beasts rushing to destroy the castle walls like living battering rams, they were brutally trampled.

"Still, Jervain is somehow holding on."

The golden-haired man, with his black hood pulled all the way back, muttered as if in surprise.

"Throughout the long history of Carpe, Jervain alone has protected the North. No matter how prepared the Orcs may be, this is not a place to fall so easily."

Ramatu of Krasion spoke in a fond tone.

Habitually tapping the ground with his staff, he twisted his lips.

“To think that a family with such a glorious history is about to fall to the minions of the Empire.”

"If you are a minion… Why do you sound so broken-hearted?"

Ramatu clicked his tongue at Lutheon's smirking tone.

"As expected, the elites of Jervain are all tied down in the East, so there's nothing they can do to help."

Kuuuung –!

"You succeeded."

"Yes…"

Ramatu's eyes wrinkled at the corners as he stared at the castle walls with a bitter gaze.

The castle that symbolized the North.

Staunch Jevarsch, facing the rushing horde of giant demonic beasts that spent their lives to make even a single crack in its defence.

However, the northern soldiers did not hesitate a moment to sacrifice themselves, blocking the advance of the Orcs and the demonic beasts.

The battle raged on, fierce and terrible.

"Callavan, brother, what's your move?"

With a smile on his lips, Lutheon asked Callavan von Jervain, who stood at his back.

Callavan bit his lips, as some indescribable emotion welled up within him.

“The important thing is timing.”

"That's right. Timing. Orcs don't seize the place, yet Jervain is destroyed! You have to take the castle at just the right time, sly like a serpent!"

Lutheon was making a scene.

Seeing his antics, Callavan exhaled heavily and tried to speak.

"I…"

Hwiiiiing –

"Oh."

When Callavan was about to say something –

Suddenly the wind changed direction.

Soon, Ramatu's lips drew into a thin line, and Lutheon's eyes turned cold.

"Has he recovered already? That resilience is just like a Troll! Maybe he has some kind of divine grace. Tsk."

Ramatu glanced at Lutheon to see if the latter might know something, but Lutheon shook his head with a look of disgust.

"He just grew further after his duel with Kel'tuk. Even if he's a maniac, a Jervain is still a Jervain. Haha… Isn't it more fun this way?"

“… Not for me, at least.”

It isn't fun at all.

Taking a final look at the jet-black hair and fluttering red cloak that mowed through the Orcs like a ravaging storm, Lutheon turned his back.

"But even so, it won't change anything."

I'll take care of him myself.

Chwaaaak!

A sword that fell cleanly.

Cutting through a green head.

Not a single drop of blood stained the Predator Sword.

A quickness incomparable to before.

‘My body feels light.'

The sword in his hand was lighter as well.

As if it had no weight whatsoever.

As if it was part of his body, one with his arm.

That's how Callius felt.

Although death had brushed close, his battle with Kel'tuk had also made him grow.

Six Peak Flowers technique had risen to the next level, and even the martial skills of the Silver Flower Wave Sword could be used when convenient.

Looking back on it with new eyes, his swordsmanship thus far had been cluttered and irregular.

To abolish his old habits and re-establish a style again from scratch would be quite a cumbersome task.

However, there was an army of Orcs spanning the horizons like a green sea in front of Callius.

It was the perfect stage to get some practice.

Seuk –!

With a single stroke of his sword, Orc soldiers' heads soared into the air.

The sharp edge of the blood-soaked Predator Sword cleaved through hard skin and iron bones with ease.

"Captain is opening a path! Break through!"

"Kill one more if you got time to talk!"

Callius' sword dance boosted the morale of his followers, and the Knights swung their swords with vigour.

But if somebody asked who stood out the most among them –

Callius looked back at the Knights, each of whom was fighting fiercely.

Among them, one left the most brilliant trace.

A child, even with a form smaller than the others, was cutting a swath through the Orcs without hesitation.

It was Emily.

Pakpakpakpakpak.

The scorching stings of her twin-edged rapier, coupled with her fox-like agility, allowed her to slowly but steadily defeat one Orc after another.

‘No need to worry there.'

The more Emily experienced real battle, the stronger she would become.

Much like himself.

Emily was a hardy flower, slowly blooming on the blood-soaked battlefield.

"Callius!"

Chajijijik!!

The nearby Orcs were suddenly submerged in a thunderous explosion.

Bernard appeared, with even his beard looking disheveled.

"We have to move forward. Since we're at this point, there's no turning back. Quickly!"

"I know."

Sreung.

Callius, holding the Predator Sword, erupted with pure divine power.

Sword petals appeared on the surface of the blade, and a strange silver light enveloped him.

"Let's go."

"Right!"

Silver Flower Wave Sword – Raging Flower Wave.

A rush of silver petals, raging like stormy waves in a furious sea.

Kwaaaaaaaa –!

Chwajajajajajajaja!

And a thunderbolt enveloping it all, spreading destruction wherever it touched.

With a single technique, the Orcs were struck down under the storm and thunder.

Kwaaaaang!

"Now!"

Immersed in the joy of battle, Bernard led the Knights forward.

"Move! If we don't break through now, there's no future for any of us!"

"Go! Go damn it!"

"I'm going! Kahak!"

"Hey! Allen, come to your senses! If you hesitate now, you'll die!"

"I know, Aaron!"

Those who fell, tried to tie down the enemies for the sake of those still standing.

Those who fall, try to grab the enemy's ankles, and those who do not, move forward. In that fierce and tangled battlefield, each individual's high and low justice clashed.

However, in Callius' eyes there were only those who blocked and those who wanted to break through, so he only kept cutting and slashing at the forefront.

For the past three years, he had internalized the way to survive in this mad world.

‘Cut, and you can live.'

A path can be opened just by cutting.

Stop cutting, and you will die.

A terribly simple logic.

He had engraved it in his heart.

There is an old saying, that children grow up by fighting. Because human beings mature by feeling various emotions and various pains as they strike others, are struck in turn, and keep fighting.

"You've grown up."

Elburton, standing on top of the fortress walls and looking down on the battlefield, thought that the old saying rang true.

That kid had grown up.

Looking at him, who would think he was the shame of the North?

One who had been called a fool, now cleaved through the battlefield and opened a path.

"A new wind is blowing."

Cough, cough!

Elburton let out a bloody cough, but ignored it and kept looking only at Callius.

The Knights following Callius, who pierced the flank of the Orc army, were breaking through the path straight to Jevarsch.

And where that knot of melee battle unfolded –

A silver flower was blooming.

"He pierced their flank, aiming for the moment when they were rushing forward. It's not some easy thing to do even with Bernard by your side."

Bernard didn't have the kind of personality to make such a judgment.

Perhaps it was Callius' decision.

He was lucky. He got the timing right.

But without the ability to support it, it would have collapsed quickly.

Yet Callius managed it.

Now, he had reached the end of the Orc army ranks and was on the verge of joining Jervain's soldiers.

"Was my judgment right or wrong to kick you out?"

Did you grow up like that because you were chased out?

Or did you always hold such a possibility? Elburton shook his head at his meaningless thoughts.

Those vague ideas had no significance anymore.

He was the Jervain, who must protect the North, before he was the father of a maniac.

It was time to sweep away those cloudy thoughts with a strong north wind, and act as the Master of the North.

Tas.

Kiiing!

Jumping off the walls, the Supreme Ruler of the North unsheathed his sword.

Kuung. A step, and his posture gave rise to a new wind.

Huuuung –!

The sword that accompanied the beginning of the North.

The wind that sprang forth from the Storm Sword, Callis, cleaved the battlefield in half like the miracle of Moses.

Step by step, his heavy gait carried him to the line separating the Orcs and the Jervain soldiers, his black hair and red cloak fluttering behind him.

"Callius."

The eyes of the son, covered in green blood, did not consider his father worth looking at.

So, the father, too –

Did not treat him as a son.

"The war has just begun. Do you need a break already?"

"… No need."

"Then go get them. Sacrifice the heads of our enemies who ravaged the North!"

At Elburton's cry, the Jervain soldiers raised their swords towards the sky.

And Callius, too –

Turned his back on him again.

Leaving behind Jevarsch, that he had barely reached after such hardship.

Teok, teok.

"Haa…"

Callius, who could not even take off his armour properly, sat down on a chair as if lying down to rest, placing his feet on an unknown piece of luggage strewn nearby and exhaling a long breath.

Three days.

In the battlefield that had lasted for three days, he had teetered between life and death dozens of times and had surpassed his own limit hundreds of times.

It was not difficult to deal with the Orcs. Not just Orc soldiers, even Orc warriors were no longer difficult for him to deal with.

Rather, they were just the right level for practicing and catching his own bad habits.

‘The problem was them.'

The giant beasts.

Who knew how the Orcs had tamed such beasts, but they now fought side by side.

The beasts were the size of houses, so no matter how good one's sword skills were, a brief mistake in battle was enough to invite death.

Of course, they were too big, so they had dull senses, and stabbing the eyes or a vital point could knock one down.

"Master, here, please drink some water."

Gulp, gulp.

Callius drank all the water from the bucket in one go, and started wiping the blood and sweat from his weapon with a wet towel.

"Good that you didn't die."

"Hehe, you know best how tough my lifeline is. Haha!"

Bruns survived until the respite that followed the long three-day battle.

There were some shallow wounds on him, but compared to the soldiers and Knights strewn around all over the place, he still looked like he had physical strength to spare.

"How much longer will this go?"

"I don't know. I don't know if this battlefield will go on for a month or even a year."

Despite his words, he doubted it'd last that long.

From the enemies' point of view, they wanted to quickly capture the castle before reinforcements arrived for the defenders.

It was the Orcs who didn't have time.

In contrast, the defenders only needed to weather the siege…

‘Has it been reduced by about half?'

The defending army had been reduced by half.

Because the elites of Jervain were absent, and the numerical inferiority of their side was also evident.

The situation was where they had only managed to avoid the worst outcome.

"How about the old man, and Emily?"

"Both of them are resting. You never know when another fight will break out."

Both suffered only minor wounds.

Neither were seriously hurt.

If you call that luck, then they were lucky.

"Ah, a Knight named Allen lost an eye. He's still so young."

"Is that so."

He lost an eye in the war.

As a Knight, he was fortunate not to have lost his limbs, but it would take time to adapt nonetheless.

"And the other Knights who followed me?"

"It'd be right to say that about half died."

"Right."

Even skilled Knights died.

Not all of them could live on.

It left a bitter taste, but he couldn't help it.

Because this was a battlefield.

"But from now on, more and more people are going to follow master. I heard the soldiers whispering, I could clearly see with my two eyes and hear with my two ears, they were singing master's praises!"

"Bruns."

"Yep! Master! There's been a lot of talk that master should be the new Lord of the North rather than that Callavan or Killavan or whoever! You don't need to worry!"

"Noisy."

"Yep!"

However, Bruns was still all smiles.

You don't even know when you'll die, so why are you having so much fun?

It'll all be over when you die.

"But where's Callavan?"

"Well. The soldiers didn’t seem to know either."

"Hmm, I see."

Fatalite's Wheel.

It probably had something to do with this quest.

"It doesn't really matter."

"Yes? What do you mean?"

"It's nothing."

[Fatalite's Wheel]

• Number of Orcs killed: 1172
• Number of beasts Killed: 486
• Number of people saved: 193
• ???

<Reward> [A+] ???

If there's a knot, just cut it.

Then the rewards will go up.

That's all I can think of right now.

Anything else doesn't matter.

There are things other than that that are much more worrisome.

What I am most worried about –

The most troublesome situation –

Because it has reached the point where it can't be suppressed any longer.

"Callius von Jervain."

A strong-looking old man, with wavy gray hair in a short ponytail, called to Callius.

‘Nochtel.'

The butler of the Jervain family, who'd sworn his lifelong allegiance to Elburton. Nochtel.

His skills were on par with a Paladin.

An old man who maintained an upright posture like a well-forged sword.

A butler.

At least, that's what he called himself.

"His Excellency is summoning you."

Elburton's summons.

Originally, I would have gone without protesting.

But that's not who I am right now.

"Only one being can tell me to come and go as they please. The God in heaven, Valtherus, is the only one. So if the Count wants to see me, he must come to me directly. Go tell him, loyal dog."

The characteristic, Scapegrace of the Count Family.

It's started dominating my sense of self.