Chapter 35
Karl was dreaming.
Sword in hand, he stood alone, fighting off a countless tide of enemies. The enemy numbers seemed endless, and there was no one but Karl standing to hold them back.
“Huff… Huff…!”
Even in a dream, his breath caught painfully in his throat, and his limbs felt too heavy to lift the sword any longer.
He kept swinging his blade, but he didn’t know why he stood there alone to stop them.
‘Why…?’
There wasn’t even a handful of strength left to raise his sword again. Unlike the swords of Master-class knights that burned with Qi, his blade only dripped with blood.
And then, the moment he dropped his sword to the ground, Karl’s eyes snapped open.
“Looks like you had a nightmare.”
“…Seems like it.”
He looked up at the woman beside his bed who was gently wiping the cold sweat from his brow.
“You’re clearly here, but at the same time, you feel like you’re not part of this world.”
Sitting up, Karl leaned back against the bedframe and closed his eyes. Her words described him with painful accuracy.
“Where are you planning to go?”
“Back to the Burkden Domain.”
“But that’s not really your concern, is it?”
“Who’s to say whether it is or isn’t.”
Unlike before, Karl at least had one clear goal now—to bring this trash game to an end.
“I plan to leave tomorrow.”
“Already? You’re not fully recovered.”
“I’ll be fit to move by tomorrow.”
“…You’re going to go no matter what I say, aren’t you?”
…Nod.
Anne shook her head as if she had expected as much.
“Then at least drink this.”
“What is it?”
“A potion.”
Though it wasn’t as potent as the bracelet he’d received from Philip, a real potion with actual effects was a rare and precious thing.
They were in such short supply that even Karl, a knight of considerable strength, rarely had more than one bottle on hand at a time.
“This isn’t something to waste. Use it when you’re in danger.”
“We have spares. Don’t worry, just drink it.”
To have several working potions on hand… Anne’s organization was clearly bigger than it appeared.
After a short pause, Karl accepted the potion she handed him.
“Thanks. I’ll take it gratefully.”
He downed the potion—blue liquid in a clear glass vial—and a cool energy instantly surged through his body. The wounds across his body began healing so fast they were visibly closing.
“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll have a chance to repay the favor someday.”
“I believe that too.”
Their eyes met—and at that moment, Anne pulled him in for a deep kiss.
“Don’t die. And don’t get hurt.”
“I’ll try.”
This time, Karl gently pulled her in for another kiss.
The next day, Karl departed for Burkden.
***
Though Anne had given him a map and rough directions, their hideout was quite far from the Burkden Domain. Karl had to cross mountain paths to get there.
As he traversed a ridge, he found signs that a group of people had moved through in an organized fashion.
‘Hmm…’
Judging by the direction of the tracks, they had moved from the forest where he had encountered Dragul toward this place. It looked like around twenty people had passed through.
‘Could they be the mercenaries who retreated from the forest?’
With that brief deduction, Karl began combing the area in earnest. His years of experience on the East Continent were proving useful.
And then, after following the trail for a while—
“Karl-nim! Are you alright?!”
An all-too-familiar voice called from a distance. Karl turned his head to see Hob running toward him.
The ever-shrewd and survival-savvy Hob had apparently made it out alive.
“I’m fine.”
“As expected…! To think you survived a fight with that demon… That’s incredible!”
As naturally as breathing, Hob mixed admiration with flattery, then noticed something about Karl’s appearance.
“You’re… wearing new clothes?”
“Sharp eyes.”
Hob had many talents. Noticing a detail like a new outfit in such a short glance proved it again.
“What happened to the mercenaries?”
“About twenty of us made it out. The rest…”
There was no need to hear more.
“And where are the survivors now?”
“Follow me, I’ll guide you.”
Hob began leading the way, taking the most obscure path possible across the mountain ridge. He might not have been a fighter, but he had excellent traits for a scout or informant.
“Here!”
Roughly three hours later, they arrived at a large natural cave, likely a temporary refuge for wanderers. It could easily house about thirty people, and remnants of recent use were scattered about inside.
“Impressive.”
Karl gave a rare word of praise, prompting Hob to scratch the back of his head.
“You managed to find quite the spot.”
“Well, I’ve always tried to survive… ha ha.”
Inside the cave, many mercenaries were injured. Though they had escaped Dragul’s forces, most were badly wounded and needed time to recover.
‘Now that I think of it… the suspicious ones are gone.’
The three men Karl hadn’t managed to speak with before—none were here.
‘No, wait… One is.’
Karl slowly approached a man. His gaze met Mata’s, and tension filled the air.
“….”
They stared at each other without a word.
“What are you?”
Karl asked bluntly. Mata had no visible injuries. Given the skill level of these mercenaries, that was impossible unless he was exceptionally skilled—or something else.
“…My name is Mata.”
“That’s not what I’m asking. Let’s not waste time.”
Karl’s expression turned cold, and he drew his sword with his right hand.
“Who are you to threaten me?”
“You don’t seem particularly skilled, and yet you have no major wounds. The injuries you do have are all in non-critical areas—almost as if you avoided them intentionally.”
Karl didn’t wait for a reply. He swung Léctĭo at Mata’s neck as the man sat still.
At that moment, Mata’s body darkened like a shadow.
“Tricks…”
Karl had no Qi.
But even so, he had reached the Superior tier of swordsmanship. Among the Masters, only a few could defeat him in actual combat.
Qi didn’t guarantee victory.
His sword split the world in two.
“Hrk…!”
Mata’s form was sliced, part of his body falling to the floor.
Karl calmly stepped forward and stomped on Mata’s stomach. Concentrated Qi surged down into his heel and pinned him in place.
“Talk.”
“Gah…!”
The weight pressing down from Karl’s foot made Mata scream in pain. Despite that, he still didn’t open his mouth.
“You think I won’t kill you, worm?”
Karl pressed harder. Mata’s body began warping under the pressure. Even a vampire felt pain—his twisted expression said as much.
“Aaaaargh! Kill me! Just kill me already!”
“No. You don’t get to die. Now, I’ll ask again. Speak.”
Unlike before, Mata’s confidence broke. Even vampires, in the face of overwhelming pain, proved to be equal to anyone else.
As Karl raised his foot again and lightly jabbed his torso with a finger, Mata suddenly sprang up.
“I’ll tell you everything! Everything!”
He screamed desperately.
Karl calmly sat down on the cave floor, ready to listen.
“Count Dragul… he plans to perform the Rebirth Ritual.”
A continuation of what Anne had explained?
Karl listened intently to what came next—and realized he had no choice but to return to Burkden.
“That was useful. Here’s your reward.”
Shing.
With a flash of Karl’s sword, Mata’s head hit the ground. The look on his severed face seemed to ask, “Wasn’t I going to be spared…?”
“You expected to be spared?”
“A thing like you spilling your master’s secrets is already dead. A swift end is better.”
At the obvious truth, Hob fell silent.
Karl turned to the injured mercenaries and began treating them using the healing supplies he’d received from Anne. Philip’s spatial-expansion bracelet was proving useful.
“Why are you doing this for us?”
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t have to take care of us like this.”
“That’s true.”
There was no benefit for Karl in helping them.
“It’s just a whim.”
Karl had once been like these broken mercenaries—fighting to survive, alone and unrooted. He understood their situation better than anyone.
They were desperate to live. A little kindness was worth giving.
“Captain… are you really going back to the castle?”
“I am.”
“But why? Viscount Julio knew what would happen and sent us anyway. There’s no reason to go back.”
“I need to see this story through to the end.”
An answer that offered no explanation.
“…It’s unfortunate, but I’ll be leaving. Somewhere far from here.”
“I understand.”
The rest of the mercenaries remained silent.
They were men who placed survival first, money second. Having narrowly escaped death, they knew to cut their losses and leave.
Karl didn’t blame them.
“…Would it be alright if I came along?”
An unexpected voice spoke up.
Hob raised his hand.
“You? Why?”
“I just… want to follow. Maybe it’s foolish, but I want to be part of this story. A hero’s tale, maybe.”
Bravado? Or courage?
“I’ll go too. I owe you my life. I must repay the debt.”
Kirk stood, gripping his axe.
Then someone else slowly rose, legs trembling beside Kirk.
“Kirk’s right. I also owe you. I want to repay it.”
Paul, who had miraculously survived, stood firm. Despite his fear, he spoke with conviction.
Mercenaries had loyalty and a sense of camaraderie—but those things usually lost to the instinct to survive.
Hob stepped forward and declared,
“Karl-nim treated us sincerely. He risked his life at the front line for our sake. We may be mercenaries, but we know right from wrong.”
For a moment, Karl saw Rachel and his former comrades in them.
“…Then let’s go.”
Karl smiled—for the first time in a long while.