Wandering Mercenary in an Open World
chapter-112

The sun was setting. The earth, bathed in the hateful sunset, was dyed in a blood-red hue that resembled the sky. It was a ghastly and futile sight.

Those who had survived until then collapsed in overwhelming fatigue that they had never felt before. There was no joy of victory on their faces as they gasped for breath. They only needed time to catch their breath that filled their throats.

Aslan, who had been watching the whole scene standing upright, turned his head silently. Cheville approached him.

“The stonemasons say that the best they can do for now is to prevent the cracks from expanding. They suggest filling the gaps with some kind of barrier.”

Aslan sheathed his sword that he had fought with all day and asked.

“What about the brothers?”

Cheville, who had not hesitated to answer until then, faltered for the first time and replied.

“Five are dead, and two are badly injured.”

It was a brief but painful statement.

“They have fulfilled their duty on this cold land, turning their backs on glory. Let us pray for them…”

Aslan clamped his mouth shut as he said that. Who would they pray to, when they had renounced their own god? He suddenly felt the air touching his skin was bitterly cold.

“…Let’s take care of the dead and prepare for their cremation. And let’s try to save the wounded somehow.”

“I understand.”

Aslan watched Cheville’s retreating back for a while and then walked towards the wall where the repair work was in progress.

“Ugh-”

He tapped the back of a laborer who was retching at the sight of the piles of corpses around him.

“Did anyone come from outside the castle?”

At his words, the laborer was startled and answered without even wiping the dirt on his mouth.

“Y-you mean the barbarians?”

Aslan shook his head silently, not getting the answer he wanted, and moved his gaze to the horizon beyond the wall.

He was sure that it was thanks to Ruon and his party that the spell that had broken the wall had missed and that the barbarians who had been fiercely fighting had suddenly retreated. It wouldn’t make sense otherwise.

“…Sir knight, s-someone is coming?”

The laborer, who had belatedly cleaned his mouth and was hammering a stake, swallowed his dry saliva and pointed somewhere.

He saw two people approaching, casting long shadows as they faced the sunset. He couldn’t see their faces because of the darkness, but Aslan knew who they were by their silhouettes alone.

He spoke to the two men who had reached near the barrier.

“You’re safe.”

At his words, the man, Ruon, smiled faintly.

“So are you.”

“Thanks to you.”

Aslan answered and looked alternately at the two people on Ruon and Kyle’s backs. One was Colin, the man he had shared a bed with last night, but the other was a woman he had never seen before.

He picked up the cloth that was dangling on the ground and wrapped it around the woman who was covered in dirt and had lost consciousness. And he whispered softly.

“I’ll hear your story later.”

Ruon nodded silently and moved on with Kyle.

The stars that had begun to show in the sky peeked at the two men who were walking briskly.

***

“…The power of Tivela and Duermur?”

Aslan asked. He sounded bewildered, and he must have been making a surprised expression inside his lion helmet.

“Well, that’s how it happened.”

Ruon answered curtly and started to wipe his sword with a dry towel. The towel soon turned red with blood.

He added to Aslan, who was silent. He didn’t want to leave any room for more questions.

“I had a chance to be recognized by the god of the furnace a long time ago. I’ve been getting his help from time to time. And this time too.”

At his words, Aslan moved his gaze to Amela, who was lying on the bed. On her left and right, Colin and Kyle were closing their eyes with bandages wrapped around their bodies.

“I understand that this woman is your friend. And that she was used for some reason… But she is also someone who harmed innocent people.”

Ruon put down the towel on the table and waited for the rest of his words. But Aslan didn’t say anything else. He just turned his body and walked outside.

It was an awkward conversation that ended abruptly, but Ruon didn’t care much. He got up and picked up the liquor on the shelf. He flicked his thumb and popped the lid off, then took the yellow liquid into his mouth.

It was so strong that it made his eyes spin for a moment. He smiled faintly at the feeling of dizziness that he hadn’t felt in a while and sat down on the chair. Then he heard someone’s voice.

“…Ruon?”

He looked up and saw Amela struggling to get up. She barely leaned her body against the headboard of the bed and touched her face and body with her palm. Then she opened her mouth.

“How did you save me?”

“With Kyle’s prayer and my threat.”

“That’s impossible. I wasn’t in a state that could be healed by borrowing a miracle.”

Amela stared at Ruon with wide eyes.

“Don’t tell me… You built up your own power?”

“You seem to be alive enough to start interrogating as soon as you wake up.”

Ruon snorted and gulped down his drink. He had gotten used to the alcohol, and his vision didn’t waver like before.

“Anyway, long time no see, Amela.”

“···Do you have to greet me again?”

Didn’t we? Oh, right, we did before we fought.

“Maybe that was a farewell then.”

Amela smiled faintly. But her face quickly hardened and she answered weakly.

“You should have just left me to die.”

Ruon didn’t reply and got up again. He opened the door and asked the maid who was waiting outside to bring some simple snacks.

The mage, who was speechless at his leisurely attitude, blinked.

“Did you hear me?”

“What? You mean leaving you to die?”

Ruon wiped the liquor on his lips with the back of his hand and added.

“I don’t want to talk about what’s right and wrong from a moral perspective, putting you on the gallows. I just did what I could.”

He pointed at Colin and Kyle alternately with the bottle.

“Colin told me you were fighting with the barbarians in the north, and we guessed it was because of that damn fairy’s oath. So we came here to save you and this is the result.”

Is that all?

When he summarized it, it felt like nothing much. Ruon scratched his head.

“From now on, it’s your life. I won’t interfere with whatever you choose.”

Amela looked complicated and didn’t say anything for a while. Then, tears like chicken droppings fell on the white blanket from her watery eyes.

“···Can I live?”

“Some people will say no. And they might not be wrong. But at least not me and Kyle. I don’t know about Colin.”

Amela burst into laughter at his overly honest answer. Ruon said sourly.

“If you laugh after crying, you’ll grow hair on your butt.”

Amela made a face as if she heard a strange thing and asked.

“What does that mean? Did you make it up?”

“It’s an expression from my hometown.”

“···I’ve always thought so, but Korea is a really weird place.”

She remembered that?

Then, there was a knock and the maid cautiously entered the room. She walked timidly and started to put some food on the table, but the quantity and quality were not ordinary, so Ruon tilted his head.

“Is this a simple snack?”

The maid smiled brightly.

“You’re a hero. This is not enough.”

She quickly left the room as soon as she finished speaking.

Then, Colin and Kyle, who were snorting at the smell of the meat, jumped up as if they had agreed. They both looked like mummies with bandages all over them.

“What, what is this delicious smell? Is it chicken? Or pork?”

“Amela-!”

What a mess.

As soon as they came to their senses, one of them rushed to the table, and the other hugged the mage next to him. Ruon closed his eyes tightly at the chaotic scene.

“Ka, Kyle. I can’t breathe.”

At first, Amela was startled, but soon she hugged Kyle’s back with both arms. Really?

Colin, who stuffed a chicken leg into his mouth with his bare hands, mumbled.

“Hey, look at this. I told you it was weird to run out of the wall like a madman. And you were like that?”

He spun his fist with his pinky up, and the two quickly moved away from each other.

Kyle cleared his throat awkwardly and sat down on an empty chair. He scooped up a spoonful of soup and said without chewing properly.

“···This house is nice.”

Ruon and Colin laughed at that.

As the atmosphere became lively in no time, Amela, who was the only one who couldn’t adapt, interrupted.

“Wait a minute, I still have something to tell you···”

But Colin cut her off with his hand covered in sauce.

“Let’s just let it go today. I don’t want to see myself having a heart attack.”

He sucked his finger and added.

“Yesterday, I heard that Ganax was crazy, and today, I saw the wall fly away. And the mage who blew up the wall is trying to talk to me seriously? No, no. No matter how much you saved my life, that’s crossing the line. Do it tomorrow. Tomorrow.”

Kyle chimed in.

“Amela, come and sit here. I’ll tell you everything I couldn’t before. I’m curious how you became the champion of Tivela.”

Colin’s eyes sparkled.

“Oh! Are we finally going to hear the story of how that Belduciason or whatever guy died?”

Finally, Ruon nodded.

“Sit down. It won’t taste good if it gets cold.”

Tears started to flow again from Amela’s eyes. But she smiled brightly and answered.

“Yes!”

***

Scree-ee-ee-ee-ee!

The giant tree twisted its body and screamed sharply. White snow fell from its shaking branches to the ground.

Below it, two people were sitting cross-legged with their eyes closed. One was an old man with wrinkles all over his face, and the other was a middle-aged fairy with delicate features.

Despite the deafening scream and the wind that tore at their skin, they continued their meditation without moving. One of them coughed up blood and got up from his seat.

It was the fairy, Quintuanus, who spat out blood on the floor.

“What’s going on?”

The old man, Beolun, asked, but Quintuanus looked at his palm without saying a word. The red chain tattoo that was tangled on his hand was gradually fading. He clenched his fist and muttered.

“…Amela.”

At his creepy mutter, Beolun also got up. A dogwood staff flew from somewhere and landed in his hand.

“Amela? That’s the name of the girl you made a blood pact with. What’s wrong with her? If she’s disobedient, I can help you discipline her.”

At that, Quint glared at the demon’s face and slowly opened his mouth.

“She’s not just disobedient, she’s reckless. I don’t know how many out-of-spec spells she used in a row, but the foundation of the pact itself is broken.”

Beolun chuckled and licked his tongue.

“Smart girl. She chose to destroy her own body and die… She must have hated being your puppet even in death.”

The demon, who had been mocking him, added.

“Fallen fairy, don’t be attached to trivial things. She’s not your real kin anyway. A tool is just a tool. If you get sentimental, you’ll die without knowing it.”

Quint didn’t say anything back. But soon, he regained his usual relaxed expression and answered with a cold smile.

“Yeah, it’s a trivial thing.”

He looked at the tree in front of him and said.

“Beolun. It’s time. You’re the last ingredient I need to revive the tree.”

“Ingredient? That’s a harsh word. It’s a marvelous thing to be fused with a tree that has sacredness.”

The demon finished his words and walked slowly towards the tree with his staff.

Soon, the old man’s body crumbled and was absorbed into the tree. Quintuanus, who was watching, whispered softly.

“Amela, my lovely daughter. The future you refused to face will come anyway. No one, no one can escape it.”