Ch.140The Road to Belfort City (5)

“You seem to have quite the talent for collapsing at just the right moment.”

“Are you making fun of me right now?”

“What would this old man gain from teasing a young knight? Just let it go in one ear and out the other. I’m only saying this out of concern.”

“Ugh…”

*Rattle rattle rattle*

After the battle ended, I was completely drained, having squeezed out every last bit of my aura.

As a result, I was now being carried in a wagon, passing through the now-safe path between the cliffs… with my wife pressing her enormous bosom against my torso beside me.

“Somehow all major battles seem to end with me passing out…”

“You’re not some kind of bomb. Just remember that gathering up power and then exploding isn’t always the best strategy.”

“Easy for you to say…”

A man like a grenade? What nonsense is this?

Ideally, a knight’s aura should be like a faucet—flowing when needed and stopping when not—but that’s not how it worked out for me.

My only consolation is that collapsing after victory is a hundred times better than collapsing in defeat.

“Oh, here. Take this. The supervisor sent it as a token of gratitude.”

“Oh… Apple brandy!”

As I was groaning inside the wagon, Simon came back in and handed me a bottle of apple brandy.

I wonder how he knew I liked this drink and why he presented it to me.

Surely he didn’t pilfer it from the cargo?

As I began to entertain such impertinent thoughts, Simon went back outside the wagon, and I watched intently as my wife opened the brandy cap while feeling myself being gradually lifted up.

Soon after, my wife took a sip of the brandy, then approached me and pressed her lips against mine, letting the brandy flow down my throat. This continued until the bottle was completely empty.

*

Time passed, and we successfully spent two long, safe weeks on the road.

I could have recovered faster if there had been a better balance between my regaining strength and my wife squeezing it out of me, but what does it matter? Isn’t it a husband’s duty to satisfy his wife?

“We’re already halfway there. That’s quite encouraging.”

“I hope we won’t face another attack like last time.”

“Well… that depends not on our wishes but on the intentions of those who might attack us…”

I trailed off as I answered Lucia’s question.

It bothered me that the initiative was in their hands, but wiping out a bandit group of that size must have significantly impacted the local dynamics.

A bandit group with more than ten aura users would be difficult to form and maintain, so a fierce power struggle would soon break out, and the resources needed for that struggle would naturally be obtained by plundering innocent merchants and travelers.

Looking at it that way, we had exterminated the bandits at just the right time.

At least during winter, both merchant caravans and travelers would become scarce, which would eventually force the bandits to consume themselves and perish.

“How many casualties did we suffer?”

“About forty dead. Around sixty injured. All the injured have been treated.”

“Forty people dead…”

I’m not sure if I should say that only forty people died against hundreds of bandits, or that forty precious lives were lost.

I thought becoming a knight would allow me to defeat great evil with my own power, but now that I am one, I find myself merely twisting my body to achieve the best possible outcome in situations I’m already caught up in…

That might be impressive in its own way, but for someone like me with trauma from being controlled by circumstances, it’s extremely unpleasant to have the initiative in someone else’s hands rather than my own.

It’s like being a fly trapped in a Venus flytrap, struggling passively… using all my strength but finding satisfaction only in the joy of survival—a meaningless situation I want no part of.

“Still, it seems like discipline has improved. Though I’m not sure if ‘discipline’ is the right word since I’ve never served in the military.”

“Well… the supervisor is a former army officer. At least he can keep his personnel in line.”

Since I couldn’t see the entire formation from where I was, I couldn’t tell if discipline was tight or just somewhat improved.

I could only trust the supervisor’s skills and the discipline and trust of the soldiers and adventurers who had survived even death.

*

“G-give us everything you have!”

“…”

Another week later.

With only ten days left until our arrival, we were attacked once more.

This time by extremely pathetic bandits.

None of them wore proper armor, and their weapons were crude things like carved wooden clubs…

If I told you that a pitchfork was their most metal-rich weapon, you’d understand better.

“Probably peasants who couldn’t survive the winter and banded together. Just scare them off.”

“That seems best.”

Harsh as the world is, I felt sorry for those who turned to evil just to survive.

I too had slaughtered thousands to survive on the cruel streets of Parcival and for revenge, and those without choices should be treated differently from those who had them.

“Sir Knight, I have a request.”

“I understand.”

So I rode toward the group of bandits blocking our path.

A knight in plate armor, riding a warhorse in barding—a sight that could be described as an almost genetically encoded fear for peasants. The dozens of people who should be called beggars rather than bandits visibly cowered as I approached.

“I am Victor of Parcival, a knight-errant who serves the Sun of Humanity.”

First, I explained that I was a knight with legitimate authority.

And then…

“V-Victor of Parcival?”

“Huh?”

Strangely enough, someone among them seemed to know me.

The one who called my name was the skinniest of them all, wearing thick clothes that looked heavier than his body weight.

“Do you know me?”

“…”

“Hey?”

“KYAAAAAAAH!!!!”

“???”

When I tried to approach the one who seemed to recognize me, he screamed loudly and collapsed to the ground.

His face was slick with cold sweat, and he pointed at me with a voice so agitated it made me wonder how such a frail body could produce such a loud sound.

“It’s him!!! It’s that guy!!!”

“That… that knight?!”

“AIEEEEE!!!! Victor!!!! Victor, why?!?!!”

As he began to convulse, the bandits’ eyes changed instantly when looking at me.

If just moments ago they showed fear of a human being, now their eyes were more like those looking at a demon.

In any case, they certainly weren’t looking at me as a human anymore.

*Flailing! Flailing!*

“He killed them!!! He killed everyone in Parcival!!! Run!! We’re no match for him!!!!”

The convulsing man kept screaming, kicking his feet as if trying to get away from me while lying face down.

“No… wait…”

“The Twin Blade Gang, the Whip Gang, the Rope Gang, the Dock Gang—he killed them all!!!!!!!! He killed them all!!!!! Help me!!! I don’t want to die!!!”

“No… listen to me…”

“That madman killed tens of thousands by himself!!! Stay away!!! Don’t come near me!!!!!”

Did I really kill that many?

I never kept count while killing people, so I wasn’t sure.

Counting corpses while killing would be a bit…

Insane, wouldn’t it?

“Karil save me!!! Medina!!! Logos!!! Moneta!!! Saburo!!!!! Maria!!! Someone!!!! Help me!!!!!”

“…”

“Mother! Mother! Mother! Mo…ther…”

The thug from Parcival (presumably) who was literally having a fit suddenly went limp.

Both the bandits and our caravan were so dumbfounded that we just stared blankly, and Simon, finally coming to his senses, dismounted to check on the collapsed thug.

“…..”

“What’s his condition?”

“He’s dead…!”

“Dead?”

“Death by shock from extreme fear…”

“….”

After those words, a cold silence fell over the road once more.

And as the sunlight suddenly shone upon us, the beggars who had been holding pitchforks put them down and began to flee.

“Run, you fools! Run if you don’t want to die!”

“I… I didn’t want to do this! I was forced…!”

“If you have the energy to talk, run! That knight will kill us all!”

And so the band of bandits completely fell apart—or rather, “decomposed”—and Simon looked up at me from the ground and asked:

“What exactly have you been doing in Parcival all this time?”

“I… struggled to survive…”

“Killing everyone but yourself isn’t survival, it’s warfare. Humanity has agreed to call it combat or war when casualties exceed a certain threshold.”

“But I couldn’t even read back then…”

“Are you saying you killed all those people when you were young enough to be illiterate?”

Simon looked up at me with an expression of disbelief, and I scratched my head, at a loss for words.

“Maybe I should have kept count of the people I killed after all?”

“Why on earth did you become a knight of the Sun instead of Karil?”