The Warrior’s Ballad - Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Translator: Willia

When talking about distances, they were usually described in terms of how far an average adult could walk at a normal pace—like a day’s journey or half a day’s journey.

This meant there was always a certain degree of variation depending on the person, and especially when locals spoke, it was necessary to take their words with a grain of salt. This was even more true for terrain like forests or mountains.

That’s why Ricardt estimated it would take about two days to get out of the forest. Furthermore, with an injured person in the group, they couldn’t move quickly.

The forest path was uneven, seeming to rise and fall constantly. They would climb a little, then descend, with thick tree roots jutting out everywhere. It was a road that no wagon or cart could possibly pass through.

Molty insisted that he could walk on his own, but when Ricardt firmly refused, he had to accept Volka’s support.

And so the group spent another night in the forest. The sound of owls crying echoed in the air, and the moon was hidden behind the branches, making it hard to see. The darkness was pitch black, with two campfires burning in the night.

It was the kind of night where, beyond the reach of the firelight, it felt like some unknown terror was lurking in the shadows.

They sliced up the salted meat they had gotten from the village and shared it amongst themselves. It was so heavily salted that they had to eat it in tiny portions, along with hard bread.

Though the students tried not to show it, their anxiety was clear in their eyes. Yet, amusingly, they seemed to steady their nerves by looking at the calm Ricardt. They couldn’t figure out how he could remain so composed—it was almost unsettling how he seemed unaffected by their situation.

“The enemy will probably come from the direction we traveled.”

Ricardt spoke while cleaning the dagger he had used to cut the meat. Though he hadn’t asked for their attention, everyone naturally turned toward him and listened closely.

“If they had gotten ahead of us and waited, we would have already encountered them near the village. Waiting for us at the end of this road would take too long. So, they’re probably late, chasing us after scouting the area. Which means we’ll have to fight.”

Ricardt spoke firmly. There was no talk of running away or any other option—he was saying they would have to fight.

“We’re split into three groups, so let’s have three people take on one enemy each. You already know that whatever you trained for won’t come to mind in the heat of the moment, right? Just focus on stabbing and slashing whenever you see an opening. With three of us facing one opponent, there’s bound to be gaps.”

It might have been a blow to their pride, but when lives were on the line, pride didn’t matter at all. The students understood this well after their previous experience. However…

“The enemy outnumbers us, right? There are nine of us, and one of us is injured, but the enemy will probably be at least thirty. How can we handle that with just three people each?”

A female student spoke up. It seemed that now, since they had become somewhat familiar with each other, she felt comfortable enough to voice her thoughts without hesitation.

“That’s why the first attack is crucial. If we hit them hard and fast and take down a few of them quickly, the rest might think we have more people than we really do. It’s all about momentum. We have to win with momentum. Don’t think about anything else—just focus on killing one at a time. Then we can wipe them all out. I’ll handle the tougher ones myself.”

Even if they believed Ricardt was right and trusted him as their leader, the students were still unsure, probably due to their lack of experience in real combat.

Ricardt tapped the bandage wrapped around his left hand as he spoke.

“The wound on my palm hasn’t fully healed yet.”

It had only been a day since he swore he would fight without running away, and if someone died during the battle, he would definitely seek revenge.

The sting in his palm was still fresh, reminding him of that oath.

However, human nature is fickle, and in the heat of the moment, who knew how things would turn out?

Ricardt looked over at Ice. Despite the dirt and grime of the last three days, his silver hair and flawless features still seemed to shine.

But the eyes that were usually so cold and indifferent now appeared, for some reason, somewhat melancholic. Or maybe… he was scared.

Ricardt still didn’t understand this guy. Had he really left the group to fulfill the request? Was that the truth, or just a cowardly excuse? Ricardt couldn’t tell.

“Fighting is better. Running away becomes a habit too. And if that happens, it’ll really make you feel miserable…”

Ricardt murmured, as if talking to himself, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

The campfire crackled, and the students remained silent. Whether they were steeling themselves or simply trembling with fear was unclear.

Ricardt, being someone who was used to fighting, could handle this. But just because he was accustomed to it didn’t mean he could force the students to risk their lives in battle.

At the same time, he felt a certain kinship with them. He had been thrown into a battlefield when he was probably around 15 or 16 years old.

Looking up at the faces of the students, he felt like he was reliving the thoughts, the trembling, the worries, and the anxiety he had felt back then.

Because of that, there was no way he could ever say something like, “If you run, I’ll kill you.” Even if they ran, all he could do was embrace them again, saying it was okay.

That said, he couldn’t actively encourage them to run either, so Ricardt thought that he had done all he could up to this point.

As the night deepened, Ricardt felt an inexplicable sense of melancholy. This was because nothing had changed.

The next day, after walking a bit further through the forest, Ricardt decided they would set up an ambush midway. It was much better to prepare for a fight than to be caught off guard while walking.

Some of the students thought they might be close to the edge of the forest, or that once they reached Torveil, they would run into some adventurers from the guild. But they trusted Ricardt’s judgment and followed his lead.

That was exactly what Ricardt had intended. Not just to gain an advantage in the fight, but also because lying in ambush in advance changes one’s mindset. It makes people psychologically accept that ‘we are actually fighting.’

Like a truly competent field commander, Ricardt knew how to choose the time and place for the fight.

“But hey, wouldn’t it be better to hit them from both sides?”

Volka asked. This was because currently, all the students were hiding on only one side of the path.

“That only works if we’re coordinated. You’ve experienced it yourself—once the blades start swinging, it’s chaos, and you might end up hitting your allies coming from the other side.”

“True…”

In life-or-death situations, when people were extremely tense, it became hard to distinguish between friend and foe.

That’s why military formations were so important in large-scale battles—just stab the guy in front of you.

The larger the group, the more difficult it was to command, but the easier it was for the individual soldiers who only needed to repeat simple actions. But in smaller-scale battles, the capabilities of the actual fighters became more important.

Ricardt and the students readied their weapons and hid by the roadside, waiting. However, it turned out to be a more boring time than expected. All sorts of thoughts came to mind while waiting. From useless thoughts to those steeling their resolve.

Then, around midday, a scream rang out in the distance, from the road they had already passed.

“Aaaaaaaahhh!”

Everyone’s eyes widened in shock. What was that sound?

Again, another scream.

“Aaaaaaaahhh!”

Once more, the group flinched. Even Ricardt, unsure of what was happening, was confused. What was going on?

The screams continued intermittently. Don’t leave me behind, please save me, I was wrong…….

Then at some point, a faint smell of burning was carried on the slight breeze. A fire? What? What’s happening?

“Hey, you fucking bastards! Do you think I’m a fucking joke?!”

They still didn’t know what exactly had happened, but it was clear that something very serious was going on. And the screams were getting closer. Then…

“Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah!”

Someone came running toward them, empty-handed and out of breath, with no weapon in sight. Judging by his appearance, he was an adventurer—and probably an enemy—but there were two arrows sticking out of his back. What?

He had the look of someone who had just seen a ghost and was fleeing for his life in a panic.

Ricardt instinctively realized what was happening. The enemy had gotten into some sort of conflict with the locals, and a fight had broken out. And it was clear that they were being completely overpowered.

In unfamiliar places, especially in harsh terrain like forests or mountains, it was impossible to outmatch the locals. If the enemy were skilled rangers adept at stealth and archery, it was best to avoid them altogether, much like steering clear of a poisonous frogs.

The students flinched. Should they rush out now? What were they supposed to do? But Ricardt raised his arm to stop them. They had to observe for now.

The students gripped their weapons tightly. From someone’s bandaged hand, blood had begun to seep through. Their tension had reached its peak.

The screams grew closer, and before long, another group of people came running toward them, panting. Arrows were stuck in their arms and bodies. One of them, with an arrow lodged in his thigh, was limping in a desperate attempt to escape.

Ricardt lunged at the one who appeared the least injured among them. Startled, the man flailed his arms wildly as he tried to flee.

Thwack!

Ricardt’s sword came down hard, splitting the man’s head. That marked the beginning. The students burst out all at once.

“Revenge!”

Someone shouted. Then, without being told, all the students shouted.

“Revenge!”

The enemy had no morale to begin with, and since they were poorly equipped, it turned into a near one-sided slaughter.

“W-wait!”

“I surrender!”

The enemies begged for mercy at the end, but none of the students showed any. They hacked and slashed every last one of them to death. It even got to the point where Ricardt had to stop one of the students from furiously stabbing a corpse in a frenzy.

“Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah!”

It wasn’t clear why they were panting so hard, but adrenaline was pumping wildly, and they were half out of their minds.

More people, fleeing in terror, appeared soon after. Upon seeing the bodies of their allies scattered around Ricardt and his group, they were struck with horror and fled into the forest, where there was no clear path.

Meanwhile, the smell of burning grew stronger, and they could see thick, gray smoke rising in the distance.

“Let’s go. The fire might spread faster than we expect. Molty, you take the lead. I’ll stay at the rear.”

Ricardt intentionally placed the injured person at the front. It was to ensure that no one would be left behind—they had to all survive. The students understood his intention, and with newfound confidence, they nodded in agreement.

Ricardt slung his scabbard diagonally across his body, sword in hand, and walked at the back of the group.

But about an hour after they set out, while chasing the fleeing enemies rather than being pursued, a sudden wave of thick gray smoke enveloped them. They hadn’t even felt the heat of the approaching fire yet.

As the smoke swept past them, stinging their eyes and making them cough, the group in front of Ricardt seemed to vanish, as if by magic. It wasn’t just Ricardt—every student was in the same situation.

“Cough! Cough!”

The smoke swirled around them in all directions, disorienting everyone. They could barely see the path at their feet. From this moment on, the students could only walk forward blindly.

Then, someone suddenly lunged through the smoke and attacked Volka. A sharp, eerie sound sliced through the air near his ears.

Whoosh!

Startled, Volka twisted his body reflexively to dodge. However, his foot caught on a tree root, and he fell. Blood trickled down his cheek where the tip of a blade had grazed him.

Through the thick smoke, flickering firelight revealed a figure glaring at Volka with eyes gleaming in madness.

The man’s disheveled appearance, with his hair in wild disarray and arrows sticking out of his back like a porcupine, made him look like a demon straight out of hell. His tattered leather armor, worn out from battle, barely clung to his body.

He growled like a beast.

“You fucking bastards, who the fuck do you think you’re messing with…!”

It was none other than Lorenz. Having stirred up trouble with the rangers and suffered a severe beating, he seemed to have lost his mind and become consumed with rage. He was ready to kill anyone he came across.

He was also the one who had started the fire. As his subordinates were helplessly dying at the hands of the rangers, he had set the fire as a last, desperate act.

Volka scrambled to get up, trying to escape. But he had dropped his sword during the fall and was now defenseless.

As he strayed from the path, not knowing where he was, the terrifying murderer quickly approached, trying to stab Volka in the back.

Clang!

The sound of clashing metal rang out. Volka fell once again, turning to see what had happened. A black cloak fluttered in the smoke. Unbelievably, it was Ice. Volka couldn’t believe his eyes. Why…?

“That way. Go.”

Ice spoke coldly. Then, he stood between Volka and Lorenz.

Thick smoke still swirled around, stinging their noses with its acrid scent. And the flames seemed to be getting closer, as they could feel the heat.

Lorenz and Ice exchanged blows without uttering a word. As Ice swung his sword, a trail of shimmering white crystals, like snowflakes, blossomed in its trajectory.

For a brief moment, a chill could be felt. According to the Rubens Guild’s classification, it was undoubtedly at the Blooming Stage.

Startled, Lorenz quickly avoided clashing swords, tilting his body to retreat and widen the distance between them.

“So it’s you! You’re the one who caused all of this! Hehehe… Yes, if I kill you, I can make up for everything! You son of a bitch! I’ll definitely kill you!”

Though he had heard reports that a young man in a red cloak had killed the promising guild talent, but seeing the Blooming Stage right in front of him, he seemed to forget everything else.

But Ice, focused entirely on his opponent, paid no mind to Lorenz’s outburst.

Once again, Lorenz’s sword came flying toward Ice. Ice raised his sword, intending to block it with his guard. He had already envisioned the next sequence of moves in his mind, but there was a gap in their practical experience.

There was no sensation when their blades met. Lorenz deftly twisted his wrist to pull his sword back, then, out of nowhere, dirt came at Ice’s face.

Ice quickly turned his head, but that momentary gap was dangerous in a fight between skilled opponents.

A burning sensation spread across Ice’s side. He had been slashed, and it seemed deep. Despite the pain, Ice clenched his teeth and launched a counterattack. He parried the opponent’s sword strike aimed at his throat. However, once again, his blade only cut through empty air.

In that moment, a thought flashed through Ice’s mind- ‘This is the end.’ In a life-or-death battle, the outcome couldn’t be determined by sword skill alone.

Unless it was a formal duel between knights, what fool in their right mind would fight fairly? There were too many variables in combat, especially depending on the terrain. Acrid smoke stinging the nose, eyes smarting, hot air and uneven ground, blurred vision.

If this had been a pure test of swordsmanship, Ice might have won with ease. But here, in this life-and-death struggle, every method had to be employed.

As Ice’s sword once again cut through empty air, snowflake-like mana bloomed beautifully around it. But that was all. In the blink of an eye, Lorenz had shifted to Ice’s side, raising his sword like an executioner.

Ice fell to the ground, pressing his hands into the dirt. He quickly twisted his body to look up at Lorenz, but it seemed that all that remained was for Lorenz to bring his sword down, whether it be on his neck, head, or chest.

Just then, someone flew through the smoky firelight, like an angel with wings made of flames. That’s how it looked to Ice.

Ricardt raised his sword above his head and struck down. But Lorenz was no ordinary opponent, his reflexes were almost animal-like.

He quickly retreated, putting distance between himself and Ricardt. However, Ricardt, now on the offensive, didn’t give Lorenz any time to regain his stance. His strikes came in swift succession.

Swish! Whoosh! Swish!

The strikes weren’t too fast nor too slow. At first glance, they appeared to be nothing special. And yet, strangely, Lorenz found himself continuously being pushed back, unable to find an opportunity to counterattack. An unsettling feeling crept up his spine.

It was because Lorenz was highly skilled that he could even sense the unease. If he had been less experienced, he wouldn’t have had the time to feel it. His sword would have already been shattered, and he would have been dead long before.

That’s when Lorenz noticed Ricardt’s cloak. A red cloak… Wait a minute, this is strange. Wasn’t that the guy who had just used the Blooming Stage Sword?

Ricardt was steadily advancing, taking control of the space with his precise footwork and using what is known as an ‘angles of attack’ in swordsmanship. Realizing his mistake too late, Lorenz found himself with no more room to retreat.

So, using the same technique he had used against Ice, Lorenz feigned a counterattack, trying to lure Ricardt into making a mistake. However, Ricardt’s hot yet cold eyes not only saw through but pierced through that deception.

Whish!

Thunk!

Lorenz attempted to avoid Ricardt’s sword by twisting his wrist, but the distance between them had already closed, and so, unable to block, half of his head was cut off. The upper part of his lower jaw was cleanly severed.

Thud.

The headless body collapsed to the ground. The tongue and teeth were visible at the severed surface. The decapitated head twitched one eye for a brief moment, and the body, now separated from the brain, spasmed for a while before both parts ceased their movements entirely.

Ricardt immediately sheathed his sword, slung it over his shoulder, and approached Ice.

“Can you move?”

Ice couldn’t answer. His expression, as he looked up at Ricardt, was one of disbelief—like someone who had witnessed a miracle.

For a moment, Ice felt as if time had stopped. In the smoky, fiery forest, as the world seemed to collapse, it felt like a heavenly being was gazing down at him.

After spacing out for a moment, Ice snapped back to reality and spoke. Blood was gushing out from his side.

“J-just leave… go…”

Just leave, he said. Was it because of the wound? Or was it because of the guilt of abandoning them before?

Ricardt looked at him quietly for a moment, then said firmly.

“You may be able to abandon me, but I won’t abandon you. That’s the difference between you and me.”

Ice lowered his head and spoke in a tone that seemed pleading, desperate.

“…No matter what you do, you can’t save me… Just let me die…”

“If you keep spouting nonsense, I’ll knock you out and carry you. Now, get on my back. And put this over yourself. If you don’t want that handsome face of yours to get ruined.”

Without waiting for further discussion, Ricardt took off his cloak, already drenched in sweat and soot, and spoke as if there was no time to waste.

He grabbed Ice’s arm and forcibly hoisted him up onto his back. Covering him with the soaked cloak, Ricardt charged straight into the flames. Ice buried his face into the boy’s shoulder.

After running for who knows how long, as they escaped from that hellish place, they suddenly found themselves in a vast, refreshing field. Cool air greeted them, along with bright sunshine. It was such a stark contrast that it felt as if heaven and hell were right next to each other. They had finally made it out of the forest.

There, the other students—already having escaped—and a group of Beringen Guild adventurers, who had arrived after receiving the news, were waiting for them.

The students, who had been anxiously waiting, burst into cheers and rushed toward Ricardt when they saw him emerge with Ice. Volka, overwhelmed with extreme relief, collapsed on the spot, her face crumpling as he let out a long-held breath.

All nine of them had survived. And not only that, they had killed the Clan Master of a rival guild’s clan.

Nothing like this had ever happened since the academy was established. Despite being ambushed, they had fought back, killed their leader, and survived.

What even seasoned, skilled adventurers would find difficult to achieve, these mere students had managed to do.

As a result, the adventurers from Beringen were left wondering how they were going to report this absurd outcome.

But for now, it was time to just bask in the sunshine and breeze and rest, leaving all that aside. These boys and girls had more than earned that right.

Ricardt laid Ice down and began to administer first aid. The adventurers stepped in to handle it instead. They washed the wound, used potions generously, and stitched it with a needle.

The peace outside the forest was so stark that it made the events of just moments ago feel like a distant lie.

Ice lay on Ricardt’s cloak, staring up at the blue sky with its slowly drifting white clouds, feeling sleep approach, aided by the potions.

In the distance, he could hear the students chattering excitedly. Now, there was no longer any awkwardness or tension between them, they had all become one.

As Ice gazed up at the clear sky, feeling like he was alone in some faraway place, sleep began to take hold. But suddenly, Ricardt’s face popped into view, blocking his line of sight.

“You alright? Need anything else?”

Ricardt asked. But Ricardt’s appearance was a sight to behold. His skin was flushed red from running through the flames, and his hair was singed and curly, looking like a charred broccoli.

“He, hehehe…”

Despite the pain, Ice couldn’t help but laugh.

Seeing the boy who never smiled actually laugh, Ricardt’s eyes grew wide. Then, realizing why Ice was laughing, Ricardt couldn’t help but chuckle along with him.

With the cool breeze, warm sunshine, and the gentle drift into a peaceful nap next to a trusted friend, there was nothing more he could ask for.

Chapter 6 – When a Frozen Heart Melts. End.