The Warrior’s Ballad

Not knowing when the opponent would strike made one naturally on edge, and it was more mentally exhausting than one might think.

While they didn’t have to worry about food supplies, Ricardt and his friends lacked a reliable wall to rely on.

There wasn’t even a trench or stakes around the watchtower, leaving them without the most basic defensive facilities.

Adventurers would rather die than pick up a shovel. This was the biggest difference from a regular army. In an actual army, soldiers spent far more time holding shovels and pickaxes than weapons.

Moreover, it had been three days since Volka and Delphi left, with no sign of their return. Worrying about friends was also one of the things that wore down their mental stamina.

It wasn’t just Ricardt who sensed that a real attack was imminent. But the question was—when?

Below the high ground, there was a festival-like atmosphere every day. It was rare for people to gather in large numbers outside of village communities, so they seemed simply excited and merry.

People would keep large fires burning even at night, grilling meat, singing songs, or dancing. Minstrels played lutes, and jesters performed amusing antics.

Since everything below could be seen clearly from above, even couples sharing physical affection in secluded spots were visible.

“Ugh! You shameless horny bastards! Take this!”

Perhaps irritated by the sight of intimacy, the members of the Widowmakers Clan would throw excrement or stones at the couples.

When the couples, startled, hurriedly gathered their clothes and fled, the Widowmakers laughed and cackled as if it was the most amusing thing.

Reinhardt, meanwhile, enjoyed the festival atmosphere, drinking himself silly, while Ricardt, Boribori, and Marie took turns guarding the suspension bridge.

A round full moon hung in the night sky. It was a brighter night than usual. When moonlight was this bright, it almost felt like morning.

Under the strangely bright moonlight in the pleasantly cool temperature, Ricardt was warming himself by the campfire with Marie.

However, Marie kept inching closer to him, and Ricardt subtly moved away. Then she would come closer again, and he would move away again. This repeated a few times.

Ricardt, being somewhat perceptive, understood the girl’s feelings to some extent by now. But once or twice was fine; if she kept doing this, it became troublesome.

When Ricardt consciously kept avoiding her, Marie, a bit embarrassed, finally spoke up.

“Um, Ricky……”

“Hm?”

“I mean, you know…”

“We can’t let our guard down, Marie. We didn’t come here to play.”

Ricardt spoke intentionally with a cold tone. Marie, who seemed about to say something, closed her mouth and lowered her head.

A night with the moonlight this bright could feel special, but right now, it only felt cruel. It was because, rather than soothing the heart, the moonlight seemed to expose it.

If she’d known it would be like this, she wouldn’t have gotten close. She wouldn’t have spoken up for no reason. Regret over something so trivial surged in Marie’s heart.

However, just as Ricardt had sensed, something unusual was indeed happening.

Dozens of people, each holding a torch, were climbing up toward the watchtower.

Ricardt jumped up, and Marie, who had been looking down, was startled. She, too, soon sensed that something unusual was approaching.

“Hey!”

Ricardt shouted toward the Widowmakers Clan. His shout meant they should stop messing around and keep a proper watch on the cliff below.

At first, the Widowmakers looked confused, wondering what was going on, but they quickly snapped to attention when they saw the dozens of torches. What’s that?

The people approaching the watchtower weren’t civilians. They all had weapons strapped to their waists. Adventurers.

As if performing some kind of religious ritual, they strangely did not draw their weapons and remained silent. They merely kept a certain distance, standing still. What’s with them? What are they doing?

Suddenly, the person guarding the narrow path to the watchtower screamed as blood sprayed.

“Aagh!”

Ricardt’s head whipped around. Out of nowhere, armed enemies had broken through the entrance and were rushing up. A real combat situation had begun.

Drawing his sword, Ricardt spoke to Marie.

“Stick close to Boribori. If things go south, cross the bridge.”

“Ri-Ricky, what about you?”

Ricardt didn’t answer and ran toward the entrance. However, when the person who had killed the guard at the entrance saw Ricardt, he immediately darted off in another direction.

Then, five or six others, each holding a shield as tall as a person, pressed together and advanced toward Ricardt, pushing forward in a tight formation.

Ricardt paused, thinking, They’ve come prepared.

With the wall of shields advancing on him, Ricardt found himself with few options and tried to quickly reposition, but the enemies, who had clearly come with a plan, weren’t going to let him get away.

The shield wall surged toward Ricardt, and in an instant, he realized, They’re trying to shove me right off the cliff.

Meanwhile, dozens of people holding torches stood watching, not engaging in the fight.

This was because they had been instructed to only join in if victory seemed assured and they didn’t need to fight.

They were low-ranking, unreliable fighters who didn’t listen well or offer much help; their job was simply to create a distraction.

Whoever had given the orders had succeeded in capturing attention, and it seemed they were a rather clever strategist.

However, the enemies were holding shields so large that they blocked their view, and because they were tightly packed, it was difficult for them to change direction quickly.

One of them briefly poked his head over the top of his shield, and Ricardt, with ghost-like precision, swung his sword. With a crisp tack, the top half of the man’s skull, including his eyes, was neatly sliced off.

The remaining shield bearers, now in a panic, recklessly charged forward, shoving anyone in their path—including an unfortunate member of the Widowmakers Clan who got caught up in the push.

Unable to react, the Widowmaker was shoved right over the cliff.

“Uwaaahhhhhh!”

He flailed his arms as he fell, crashing into the crowd of people who were enjoying themselves by the large fire below the high ground. One unlucky person below collided with the falling man, and both died instantly.

Crash!

The impact shattered their bones in multiple places, with jagged fractures piercing through their flesh. The once festive scene below turned into chaos in an instant.

“Kyaaaaaaah!”

The cliff top was no less of a pandemonium. Reinhardt, who had been drinking when he noticed the enemy attack, he picked up his massive club and began smashing through the shields.

“You bastards! Perfect timing when I was getting bored!”

Bang!

His attack was so powerful that he simply shattered the shield, and the nearest enemy had his face clawed at and ripped apart by Reinhardt’s outstretched hand.

With the shield bearers neutralized, Ricardt quickly scanned his surroundings to assess the battle situation.

The torchbearers, uncertain of whether to advance or not, hesitated, while the enemies of intermediate rank and higher started drawing their weapons and actively engaging in combat.

Ricardt shouted at the lower-ranked adventurers holding torches.

“Come any closer, and you’re dead!”

When Ricardt, of all people, shouted at them, they flinched, but simultaneously, the higher-ranked enemies who had heard his voice all targeted Ricardt at once.

Clang! Thud! Shing!

Finally, Ricardt swung his sword, and the moonlight gleamed brilliantly off the blade. And, without fail, he broke an enemy’s sword while cutting a neck and slicing off an arm.

As Ricardt’s uniquely swift and lethal swordsmanship took down two enemies in a single stroke.

Witnessing his terrifying skill firsthand, someone shouted,

“Fall back! Bring the nets! Drive him toward the cliff!”

Ricardt realized, ah, this bastard must be the leader. Indeed, having someone who knew how to lead a group made things quite troublesome.

The Clan Master of the Heigen Guild, Wolfgang, was directing the battle from a safe distance, well out of Ricardt’s immediate reach.

As the intermediate-level adventurers moved according to his orders, they weren’t quite as coordinated as a trained army, but they still managed to corner Ricardt effectively.

From a distance, they threw projectiles at him, and every time he showed an opening, they cast nets his way, avoiding direct confrontation. Ricardt, like a hunted tiger, could only keep moving and evading.

Fundamentally, he was already at a numerical disadvantage, and now the terrain had also turned against him.

At that moment, Ricardt instinctively realized: these people weren’t here to capture the watchtower—they were here to kill him.

As soon as he understood this, Ricardt quickly decided that his best chance was to draw them away from here.

No sooner had he made this decision than Ricardt leaped off the ridge and ran straight towards the lower-ranking adventurers holding torches.

“Ahhh!”

The low-level adventurers, startled, scrambled to get out of his way.

“What the hell are you doing, you idiots? Stop him!”

Wolfgang, enraged and bewildered, screamed at them. But the low-ranking adventurers just internally complained, Weren’t you the one who said we didn’t have to fight?

Ricardt sped down the high ground, and the senior adventurers who had been waiting to finish him off immediately gave chase.

Thanks to Ricardt’s tactical judgment, a gap opened up in the enemy’s formation around the watchtower, allowing the Widowmakers Clan to begin their counterattack.

With their forces suddenly split in two and all the senior adventurers, the core of their strength, pursuing Ricardt, Wolfgang was momentarily thrown into panic. How did it come to this? We were so close!

Meanwhile, the low-ranking adventurers holding torches just stood there, staring blankly. What’s going on? Are we losing? Good thing we didn’t fight, we would’ve just been in danger. Phew, what a relief.

The senior adventurers, on the other hand, had a personal vendetta; they were focused on killing Ricardt to settle scores or restore their clan’s tarnished honor. From the start, they had no real interest in capturing the watchtower.

Caught in the middle, the intermediate-level adventurers found themselves stuck, unable to advance or retreat.

At that very moment, Boribori, who had been guarding the suspension bridge, finished securing that area and joined the fray in earnest. The intermediate adventurers stood no chance against this new onslaught.

“F*ck……”

Wolfgang stood frozen in shock, cursing under his breath. And when Boribori’s sword swung toward him, his consciousness faded almost instantly.

Meanwhile, Ricardt was leading the senior adventurers further down the high ground, steering toward an area free of civilians as he continued to run.

With his breath coming in ragged gasps and his vision blurring, Ricardt found himself encircled by persistent swordsmen who had spread out to surround him.

One of them finally drew close, and Ricardt halted his run to counterattack.

However, these were senior adventurers, whose reflexes and physical abilities had been honed to the utmost human limits. They didn’t allow Ricardt any easy openings.

They had clearly come prepared, abandoning any notion of an honorable duel. Instead, they kept him at a near-but-unreachable distance, focusing solely on maintaining the encirclement.

Their expressions made it clear: they were hell-bent on killing Ricardt, no matter the cost.

Both Ricardt and his pursuers were drenched in sweat, their eyes fully focused, showing their unbroken concentration.

Ricardt could tell just by looking. That these enemies were willing to sacrifice themselves to take him down. And it wasn’t just one or two people—it was ten of them.

Is this where I die? Is this as far as I go? The thought briefly crossed his mind. But he felt no fear. It was just that—nothing more.

In this moment of heightened tension, taut as a string, someone suddenly addressed Ricardt in a calm voice. It was Gramschvitz.

“Do you have a brother? Losing a brother… it’s like losing a limb. That pain and sorrow.”

Though he didn’t know who this person was, Ricardt understood the words, as he, too, had brothers. He could imagine the depth of resentment this man harbored toward him.

But now wasn’t the time for mutual understanding. The ties bound by vengeance could only be severed with a sword.

“Hiyaah!”

A shout erupted from behind Ricardt. But instead of turning around, Ricardt charged forward at the enemy in front of him. If someone attacked from behind, they’d be forced to engage in tandem to keep up the pressure.

Sure enough, this time the enemy in front, abandoning any sense of caution, lunged at Ricardt with his sword, ready to die. Simultaneously, the attackers on both sides moved in with a slight delay.

Ricardt twisted his upper body, bending his knees tightly, and raised his arms so that the blade was pressed close to his torso.

Pulling his sword with force, his blade swung horizontally, deflecting multiple swords at once.

Chaaang—!

With that, he created a golden opportunity, and Ricardt gritted his teeth as he swung his sword again.

Whish! Thud!

Thump.

In the end, after deflecting multiple attacks, Ricardt managed to slice halfway through one man’s waist. Though these opponents were considered some of the strongest in their respective regions, they now trembled in fear.

“Wh-what a monster…!”

Even these warriors, prepared to face death, were unnerved.

But once Ricardt seized an opening, he didn’t let go. He kept pressing his advantage relentlessly.

He approached the momentarily disoriented enemies with swift steps, swinging and striking his sword from side to side in a flawless display of offense and defense.

Clang! Clang! Thud!

This was no mere swordplay—it was on the level of art. If there was only one true swordsmanship in the world, this felt like it.

Two more men collapsed, blood spraying from their bodies. Blood was also trickling down Ricardt’s upper arm.

As the shadow of death loomed closer, Ricardt felt an odd sense of exhilaration instead. Like an unnamed storm, he relentlessly drove the enemies back.

He was like a fierce current of water, like a wild flame—both powerful and precise.

The swordsmen fighting Ricardt, who had dedicated their lives to the sword, found themselves captivated. How could something be this beautiful?

But this would only end with Ricardt’s death, or theirs. As three of their ten had fallen in an instant, the remaining enemies retreated to regroup, panting heavily as they steadied their breathing.

However, their encirclement was no longer perfect, allowing Ricardt to exploit a gap and run back toward the high ground. The enemies, of course, resumed their pursuit.

And then it happened.

“Ricky!”

Ricardt looked up in surprise at the high ground. Marie was sprinting down toward him, and Ricardt’s eyes widened at the sight. What? Why?

The remaining seven swordsmen were also thrown off by the appearance of a new person. However, unlike the Ernburg Five, they weren’t vicious enough to immediately think of taking Marie hostage. Though she wouldn’t have been easily taken hostage anyway.

Ricardt kept running, and he and Marie finally met midway. Neither spoke a word. They simply ran side by side, looking in the same direction. In a way, it was almost a ridiculous situation.

As they rounded the mountainside, a field of buckwheat flowers stretched out before them. It looked as if a light snow had fallen, and under the soft moonlight from the round full moon in the sky, the scene was breathtaking.

Ricardt and Marie ran through the field of flowers. They didn’t know how the situation had led to this, or even why they had to keep running; they just ran. The sound of waist-high grass brushing against them made a swish-swish sound that tickled their ears.

But they couldn’t run for long. Ahead of them lay a sheer cliff.

And yet, perhaps due to the peculiar madness mingling with the moonlight, a fleeting thought crossed their minds: that it might be okay to just hold hands and leap together.

Ricardt stopped running and turned around to see the seven swordsmen also standing in the field of buckwheat flowers. Ricardt’s meteoric iron sword and Marie’s true silver sword, along with the seven other swords, all reflected the moonlight.

Everyone was breathing heavily, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Ricardt spoke.

“I’ll veer off to the right. Marie, put some distance between us. The enemies will come after me. That’s when you should join the fight.”

Even in this moment, Ricardt was making tactical decisions.

“No, um……”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, but… if I don’t say it now, I might never get the chance.”

Ricardt turned to look at Marie. She looked back at him. Both had sweat-soaked blonde hair sticking to their faces.

Their eyes, one pair shifting between green and brown, the other like blue jewels, were incomparably beautiful. They were close enough that if either leaned forward, their lips would meet.

Ever since their earlier conversation, Marie had been afraid it might be her last chance to speak. But now, she could finally say it. Her heart was pounding.

“I… I think I like you…”

“…”

It was, admittedly, a terrible time for a confession. But the buckwheat field bathed in moonlight was so beautiful that she thought if she didn’t reveal the pure feelings she had carried for the first time in her life now, she might never do it.

Ricardt was silent for a moment. Then he gave a faint, bittersweet smile and spoke gently.

“I’m sorry. I don’t believe in things like love. But… I could die for you.”

The boy could understand the resentment his enemies held toward him, but he couldn’t comprehend the girl’s pure love. Or rather, to be precise, he couldn’t accept it.

Because he still believed that love was just another name for the cruelest curse and the seed of misfortune. Love and resentment were very much alike.

Marie’s mind went blank for a moment, unable to think. Wait, what did he say? I was… rejected?

Without another word, Ricardt threw himself to the right. As he’d expected, the enemies were wary of Marie but focused their attention on him.

The sound of grass swishing accompanied his movements. Soon, the seven swordsmen and Ricardt clashed.

In the bright moonlit night, the metallic clangs rang out intermittently, and red blood splattered across the field of white buckwheat flowers.

One by one, they fell, making the buckwheat field their grave. Gramschvitz fell too. One by one, their grudges dropped like withering flowers.

To Marie’s eyes, Ricardt, wielding his sword, looked more beautiful, more tragic, and more magnificent than ever. That jerk……

But as the wounds on Ricardt’s body began to increase, Marie, half in a daze, found herself running forward to fight alongside him.

What a strange situation this was: a girl who had just experienced heartbreak now entrusting their lives to each other in battle. Entrusting one’s life is something you can only do with someone you trust most deeply.

The swordsmen, for their part, didn’t flee, and in the end, all of them fell in the field of buckwheat flowers.

But it wasn’t just bodies lying there. There, too, lay an unfulfilled vengeance and an unrequited first love turned down.

The round full moon seemed to hold its breath as it watched over them. Neither of them spoke.

The quiet moonlight, the simple buckwheat flowers, the blood and sweat trickling down the boy’s body, and a single tear rolling down the girl’s cheek—all of these things spoke in place of words.

Chapter 10 – Unfulfilled Feelings. End.