Chapter 91

Chapter 91: Chapter 91

It must have been around this time of year.

No, perhaps I had been slightly older when I left for the Eastern Expedition.

Back then, I had followed an Imperial recruiter without knowing anything.

Like a leaf floating aimlessly down a river, I drifted for an entire month before arriving at a place that was quite literally hell.

But I had not fallen into deep despair or discouragement. I had simply rolled through the filth alongside my comrades and learned how to become a demon in hell.

How to stab, slice, and dismember people—to kill quickly and efficiently.

How to make tears of blood flow from the enemy’s eyes.

How to drive them into despair.

How to destroy everything thoroughly, whether human beings or objects.

Kaldevert, you once told me that I possessed the soul of a poet.

But would you not have become a far better person yourself if you had never gone to war?

Thinking about it now, perhaps I never needed to leave the battlefield.

Not if leaving meant confronting those lies and that betrayal.

If only they had spoken a single warm word to me.

If only they had at least looked at me with pity.

But their gazes had been so cold.

They might have believed I was dead.

But did that justify such icy gazes and heartless words?

What choice did that leave me?

What choice other than killing them all?

"Ricky."

Marie called to him from her seat across the rattling freight wagon.

Rickart emerged from his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing. Just remembering the past."

"You’re getting careless."

"Stay alert. Alert."

Marie mimicked something Rickart had once told her, causing him to burst into a silly laugh.

"All right. I’ll stay alert."

"Anyway, I hope this job ends quickly. We don’t have much agarwood left."

The agarwood they had received from Doctor Reno had been enough to last approximately one month. After it ran out, they had begun purchasing it with their own money.

Not only was it expensive, but it was also difficult to obtain, so its price changed every time.

Sometimes they paid nearly the price of an entire house. At other times, they received some in return for completing a job. Consequently, Rickart and Marie ’s finances were in poor condition.

Marie had chosen the wrong boyfriend and was practically penniless despite being a Sword Master. Of course, she had no complaints. She merely wished she could do even more for Rickart.

Rickart turned and looked outside the freight wagon.

He saw the adventurers of the Ernberg branch marching behind them in silence with their heads lowered. They reminded him of himself when he had departed for the Eastern Expedition.

The fields, however, had already begun turning dry and yellow.

The campaign had originally been planned for spring, but various practical limitations delayed the order to assemble until autumn.

Surprisingly, the commander-in-chief was the Count Palatine of Kelbron, Hellauman.

He was personally leading the campaign.

More than ten guilds had been mobilized, and approximately one hundred adventurers from the Beringen Guild were participating. The Ernberg branch alone had supplied forty—the highest proportion of any branch.

Their total force numbered approximately seven hundred.

However, Rickart remained skeptical.

The reason was simple: adventurers were not soldiers.

In other words, this was not an army.

Individual adventurers might possess better combat skills than ordinary soldiers, but an army’s ability to form a cohesive unit and maintain discipline and organization was more important than the fighting ability of each individual.

From that perspective, highly individualistic adventurers might be well suited for reconnaissance, elimination missions, and other small-scale special operations, but they were ill suited for large-scale battles.

Rickart therefore believed that adventurers became increasingly inefficient as their numbers grew.

Still, the enemy was probably in a similar position, so he was not particularly concerned.

A capable military commander was rarer and more valuable than a Sword Master. Rickart doubted that either side possessed such a person, so in that sense, the situation was fair.

"I think we’re almost there. I can see it."

Boribori’s voice came from outside the freight wagon.

Rickart leaped lightly from the moving wagon.

In the distance, colorful tents stood across the fields. They belonged to the adventurers who had arrived before them.

"By the way, I don’t see a river."

Volka spoke while looking around. There was nothing but a vast field resembling a tranquil expanse of water. No actual water was visible anywhere.

"There isn’t a river here. We’ll have to dig wells."

Familiar with the area’s geography, Rickart answered immediately.

His heart suddenly began pounding uncontrollably. It refused to settle down.

Thinking about this place in his mind and actually returning to it were entirely different experiences.

The familiar fragrance of nostalgia rising from the mountains, fields, sky, and wind made Rickart’s heart ache again and again.

It felt as though his heart were being sliced open with a blade, yet at the same time, it also felt full.

He could not explain it.

A sudden wave of emotion rose within him, and he struggled to swallow it without letting anyone notice.

No matter where he looked, this place was steeped in painful nostalgia.

It was the place where betrayal and hatred, despair and rage had been conceived.

It was also the homeland of an innocent boy who had once lived more peacefully than anyone else in the world, wanting for nothing.

Two freight wagons, five carts, and approximately forty Ernberg adventurers approached the assembly point.

When the people watching from afar noticed them, members of the Beringen Guild came forward to greet those they knew.

"Fuck, did you people uproot your entire branch to join this campaign?"

"Wow, they really did bring almost everyone."

"Don’t tell me you actually believe the Fifth Prince’s promise."

Volka and the other adventurers were bombarded with teasing remarks containing both pleasure and affection.

Meanwhile, those who had arrived earlier furtively glanced at the Ernberg Four: Rickart, Marie , Boribori, and Ice.

Their eyes were drawn particularly to the armor occasionally visible beneath Rickart’s cloak.

He had destroyed an entire guild and claimed its greatest heirloom as a spoil of war. The armor therefore carried extraordinary symbolic significance.

"Hey, when else will people like us ever get a chance to become nobles? This campaign is an opportunity. The idiots are the ones who didn’t come."

Volka spoke.

The Fifth Prince, Bellator, had publicly promised to grant titles to anyone who distinguished themselves during the campaign.

It was unclear whether he possessed that authority when he was not the Emperor. Still, the world was now filled with ownerless lands devastated by outlaws, so his promise did not seem entirely false.

More importantly, the campaign possessed enormous symbolic significance for Bellator as well.

He would be avenging the previous Emperor.

"Nobles always say one thing at first and another later. How many times are you going to let them fool you?"

"Then why did you come?"

"I’m here to ride everyone else’s coattails. It still seems like I can earn a decent share. Hey, that’s what life is all about—sneaking in and taking a piece!"

"Heh. Idiot."

Volka exchanged meaningless banter with the clan leaders and other branch leaders. He then went to Dunkel’s tent to report their arrival before beginning to organize their campsite.

They leveled the ground with shovels and spread durable cloth over it. Afterward, they lifted a thick log to erect the central support pole.

It was normally a task requiring several people, but Rickart effortlessly raised the heavy pole alone and drove it into the ground. Those nearby stared at him in amazement.

Once they had erected a spacious two-person tent and placed folding beds and other necessities inside, Rickart began walking somewhere.

"Where are you going?"

Boribori, who was following Volka to a meeting for clan masters, turned and asked.

"Oh, I’m just going to look around."

"Wouldn’t it be better for someone with diseased lungs to rest?"

"It’s not as if my arms and legs were cut off."

"Marie ’s going with you, right? Make sure you stay together."

Rickart had truly lived long enough to see everything.

Boribori was actually worried about him.

Rickart’s condition was far from perfect, so Boribori was apparently concerned.

Having someone who worried about him felt remarkably pleasant.

That feeling showed in his smile.

"She’s coming now. We’ll return before sunset."

Rickart waited for Marie to arrive before venturing into the vast fields with her.

Their destination was the old village.

The girl stared directly at the sun.

Strangely, its light did not hurt her eyes.

She did not know why she was staring at it, but she felt certain that it was an omen of something terrible to come.

Then, at some point, a circular shadow began descending over the sun from above.

What in the world was happening?

Was such a thing even possible?

The girl’s heart pounded as she stared at the sun. An inexplicable anxiety swept over her, making her feel as though the world were about to end.

The shadow continued descending.

It was as though the sun were closing its eye.

At a certain point, the bright day abruptly transformed into night.

When the sun’s eye closed completely, a sacred ring of light flashed.

And there was someone who wore it around his head like a halo.

Enveloped in pitch-black shadows, he stood atop a sacred altar and slowly turned his head. His golden eyes blazed like fire.

The girl’s anxiety transformed into unbearable sorrow, pain, and regret before swallowing her whole.

Daisy jolted awake in fright.

Cold sweat covered her body, and goosebumps had risen across her arms and neck. Her soft bed and pillow were slightly damp.

Daisy breathed heavily as she tried to calm her pounding heart. Light from outside seeped through a gap in the thick curtains.

"Michaela, are you all right? Did you have another prophetic dream?"

Michaela was the name Daisy had been given after entering the Order.

The girl in the neighboring bed had spoken to her. She was such a beautiful young girl that looking at her almost hurt the eyes.

Yet Daisy, with her sorrowful air, was no less beautiful. The whites of her large eyes were as flawless and smooth as the surface of a boiled egg, while her long blond hair was as fine as a curtain of silk.

"Yeah..."

"You’ve been having them often lately. Was it the eclipse again?"

"Still, yours aren’t that bad. Ariella dreams about all kinds of horrifying corpses."

"But the emotions reach me too. It feels so sad and painful that I can barely endure it."

A prophetic dream did not merely allow someone to glimpse a scene from the future.

The dreamer fully experienced the emotions of the person in that situation, including every negative emotion—terror, fear, and anxiety.

However, unlike Armant, the Sisters of Prophecy could not observe events in their entirety. They saw only fragments, so the Order overlapped multiple prophecies to verify the truth.

Relatively recently, however, Daisy had provided the decisive revelation: God would be resurrected on the day of the eclipse.

By employing astronomy, the Order had been able to determine the exact date. That was why they had caused the incident in the Imperial Capital of Nibelungen the previous year.

The girl in the bed beside Daisy was also one of the Sisters of Prophecy. She appeared three or four years older than Daisy, though she could not have been more than fifteen or sixteen.

She came to Daisy’s side, gently rubbed her shoulders, and comforted her.

"It will all be over soon. Once God is resurrected, He will take away all that anxiety and fear. We need only think of Him. Believe in Him. Obey Him. Then peace will settle here."

The girl pointed to Daisy’s heart.

Instead of answering, Daisy changed the subject.

"...Aisa, do you still have dreams?"

"Mine aren’t particularly useful."

Not everyone who had prophetic dreams produced useful visions.

There were twelve Sisters of Prophecy in total, but only three of them experienced decisive revelations like Daisy’s.

One had seen the Resurrection.

One had seen the sacred blade of golden flame.

And one had seen a blood-soaked scene.

The Order interpreted those visions as God rising again and slaughtering all His enemies.

In any case, because the Order did not know the preferences of the god who would be resurrected, they maintained sisters of different ages, ranging from twelve to twenty.

The sisters had been educated to worship, revere, and love God upon His resurrection, offering Him everything they possessed and continuing His bloodline.

Daisy, however, was different.

She had carefully hidden her true feelings in the deepest part of her heart.

The man she loved was someone other than God.

"I still want to hear yours."

Aisa did not understand why Daisy loved hearing about her simple prophecy so much. But if telling her would help her calm down, there was no reason not to do so.

"Hmm... All right. There’s a cool breeze, but the midday sunlight is warm. There’s a ruined village, and to the southwest stands a solitary house. A young man wearing a red cloak is there. His eyes are hazel..."

Daisy’s heart pounded whenever she heard that seemingly insignificant story—no, that prophecy.

She was certain that the young man was Rickart, the man she loved.

She could never forget him.

That moment had been engraved upon Daisy’s heart for eternity.

"I’m Ricky. What’s your name?"

Daisy knew nothing about any god.

To her, that boy was her savior.

"Do you feel calmer now? Shall we go wash?"

Aisa took Daisy by the hand and led her to the bathhouse.

The bathhouse had been meticulously finished with marble tiles and was extraordinarily luxurious. Warm water was also available at all times.

The Sisters of Prophecy received a strict education, but their daily supervision was relatively lenient.

They were women destined to serve God. No one within the Order was permitted to mistreat them, nor could they be punished.

Consequently, most of their daily activities consisted of cultivating their beauty or practicing arias meant to please God.

They were given fresh, nutritious food and clean bathwater every day. They also applied beauty ointments specially produced by the Order.

Compared with the children undergoing the Sword Master training, the difference in their treatment was nearly as vast as that between heaven and hell.

In return, the sisters were required to wear white mourning robes and veils at all times. They were forbidden from carelessly showing their faces to anyone.

Because they lived completely isolated from the outside world, the bonds among the sisters tended to be strong.

Daisy and Aisa washed in the bathhouse, combed each other’s hair, and applied their ointments.

When they emerged, however, Daisy did not head toward their quarters. Instead, she began walking somewhere entirely unexpected.

"Where are you going?"

"Aisa, keep watch for me."

"You—you’re doing this again?"

Apparently, this was not the first time, for Aisa reacted with horror.

The Sisters of Prophecy lived in a detached palace within the enormous temple, which resembled a sprawling fortress. Consequently, there was almost no surveillance.

Daisy approached a small postern gate in the outer wall and easily opened its rusted lock.

She had spent several days sawing through it herself.

Aisa anxiously glanced around, unsure what to do. Her veil fluttered with every movement.

Daisy ignored her and simply opened the gate.

"Michaela! Make sure you come back before sunset!"

Aisa shouted quietly.

The sisters could not be formally punished, but if they were caught doing something wrong, the eldest sister would scold them with a day-long sermon.

"I know. Don’t worry. I know when it will happen."

Aisa’s prophecy had clearly said it would be midday, so Daisy believed she would have plenty of time to return before sunset.

She boldly stepped outside and removed the cumbersome veil fluttering in the wind.

The wind pressed her long white robe tightly against her body, but Daisy strode forward without hesitation.

She did not appear content merely to wait for fate.

She seemed determined to seize it with her own hands.

When Daisy’s mother had entrusted her to the Order, they had passed through a ruined village. Daisy therefore knew where it was.

Starting in the cool morning, Daisy walked for nearly four or five hours before reaching the ruins.

The village had been abandoned approximately a century ago, and grass had grown so thickly that the ruins seemed to have become part of nature itself.

She had not eaten and should have been hungry, but she did not care.

"Southwest. Southwest."

Repeating the word to herself, Daisy reached a roofless house that lay completely open to the sky.

She entered, crouched down, and waited without any particular plan. Occasionally, she glanced at the sun to estimate the time.

It did not matter if it did not happen today.

She could come back next time.

And if necessary, she could return again after that.

In truth, she had already made a habit of occasionally coming here to wait.

However, the uninterrupted walk of several hours had exhausted her. Daisy began nodding off like a sick chick.

She did not know how long she had been asleep when a cool breeze suddenly blew past and gently caressed her.

It was like the wind of prophecy announcing that he had arrived.

"Huh? There’s someone in here."

An unfamiliar voice.

Daisy’s drowsiness vanished. She raised her head.

A red cloak.

A man standing with the light behind him.

Huh...?

The backlighting made Daisy squint. Her eyes slowly adjusted until she could finally see the man, but she did not recognize him immediately.

He had grown so much during their time apart.

His face still retained a trace of youth, but it was no longer possible to call him a boy.

"Huh?"

Rickart also felt that he had seen Daisy somewhere before, but she had changed slightly, and he did not recognize her right away.

Marie approached from elsewhere.

"There’s someone here? Could she be a spy?"

At that moment, Daisy shouted at the top of her lungs the name she had longed so desperately to call and threw herself into the man’s arms.

"Honeeeey!"

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