Sword Pilgrim

"I see. So that’s what happened…"

A middle-aged man with long hair and a long beard.

The leader of the radical faction within the Church of Valtherus, Bishop Milliman.

He gulped involuntarily upon hearing of the deaths of Druma and Ryburn.

"He says they died fighting fiercely with a dragonblooded beast, a thunder wolf dragon."

The report from Orcal[1].

Milliman's narrow eyes flashed.

"Callius, who was with them, lived, and yet the two inquisitor-captains died fighting… Is there something fishy going on?"

Could something like this be safely written off as a coincidence?

Milliman was deep in thought.

"This report is from Captain Orcal, commander of the third squad. There’s no doubt about that. One of his spirits brought it in."

Orcal's spirit sword was sheathed in a scabbard.

When he died, the sword would also die.

As long as he was alive, others couldn’t use the spirits he controlled.

Since the sword’s blade was sheathed within Orcal’s rosario –

Clearly, he himself had sent this report.

"Captain Orcal might have betrayed us."

"Is that even possible? Just because of one bastard called Callius?"

“What if he has a sacred relic in is hands?”

What if it wasn't useful just for himself? What if he could grant its abilities to his subordinates?

"If it can enhance both swordsmanship and physical abilities, are you sure you yourself would never fall for such sweet temptation?"

"Even then, I’d never betray my faith!"

Despite such bold aspirations, Milliman did not believe the young paladin's words.

Even if death approached, would he be able to say that so confidently?

Even with a blade pressed at his neck, slowly cutting into the skin, and his lifeblood continuously pouring out onto the earth?

Milliman shook his head.

The young man had no idea.

Man’s base survival instincts, and the corruption it can lead to, have to be experienced by yourself. Only then can one know how frail are men’s hearts, how weak in the face of their own mortality.

"Do you want me to call the chief inquisitor, sir?"

"No need. He's already here."

Through the gap in the open door, the leader of the Heretic Inquisition could be seen.

Bishop Milliman watched as the paladin straightened up at the sight.

"You called?"

"No."

"Perfect timing! I knew you were going to call me. I noticed it and came in advance!"

"… I keep telling you, stop saying ‘perfect’."

"I'm sorry. It must be a perfectly annoying habit."

A righteous man, except for his habit of tacking on the word ‘perfect’ to everything he said. The leader of the Heretic Inquisition, whose most distinguishing feature was an impressive scar than ran straight across his nose.

Genos von Gradas.

"Alright, Genos, now take a look at this."

"This…"

Genos, holding the document Bishop Milliman had passed to him by the edge, tilted his head as he read the contents – a recommendation.

"A letter of recommendation from a captain, is it. But aren't there a lot of rumours about this guy?"

It wasn’t a recommendation from some bottom-rung inquisitor.

The letter came from a squad captain, and held a completely different significance.

"Callius von Jervain? Is this the same bastard that I know? Isn't he rather the perfect choice to interrogate, instead of recruit?"

Instead of making him a heretic inquisitor, it wouldn’t be a wonder if they took him in for questioning.

He was the one who’d stolen a sacred relic. The executives all naturally knew about him. And there were so many nasty rumours about the man, too. So why did a letter of recommendation suddenly come in?

"That's why I called you."

"I came by myself, though?"

"… Fine, why are you here, then?"

"This is perfect! It must be fate that has led me here. I was thinking about eating and taking a nap, but I smelled something interesting from your visit, Bishop."

Milliman sighed at the sight of Genos making exaggerated sniffing motions with his nose.

“… Anyway, I’ll leave this to you.”

"I don't know if I’ll be much help, though. A more perfect choice would be…"

"I told you to stop saying it, you bastard!"

"Hmm, Bishop, you get extremely angry very easily. You aren’t the leader of the extremist faction for nothing. Hahaha!! Wasn't that funny? It was a joke, but no one laughed, so I’ll just laugh by myself. Hahahahahaha! This is fun!"

Swoosh!

As Genos, the leader of the Heretic Inquisition, disappeared like the wind, Bishop Milliman pressed his hands to his throbbing temples.

"Is this going to be alright, sir?"

"Even though he seems like that, his abilities aren’t in doubt. It's not like he got to be the Chief Inquisitor for nothing. If he had a bit more ambition, he wouldn't have stopped there either."

He would’ve risen to some position even above that.

He was a man evaluated as having the qualities to become a legendary paladin[2], the highest position one could climb to with pure swordsmanship.

“Even if he looks that way, his bloodline still contains the traces of God.”

"Ah, the East…"

Just like there was Jervain in the North –

And just like there was Ruydren in the South, there was Gradas in the East.

"He has the bloodline of the Gradas family, one of the four great noble houses of Carpe. There will be no mistakes this time…"

He’d surely be able to determine if that scoundrel had a relic or not.

"This is also a strict order from the archbishop, so we really can’t afford any mistakes."

And –

"He hasn't had a good relationship with Callius since they were children."

The North and the East.

The two were old friends.

The capital of the Carpe Kingdom.

A famous tavern in the city of Karradi.

[Lantern Facing the Wind].

In that bar with a long tradition and history, food and drink was flowing freely.

"What? You mean that crazy bastard?"

One of the knights who’d put down the beer mug asked with a frown.

"Didn't you hear the rumours? Call him crazy and he might come to lop your head off."

"Hey, I wish."

That motherfucker might come? If only.

"I'm not kidding! Most of the North has already been swept clean by the Judge, you know?!"

"The Judge?"

"They say he carries a sword that has a mysterious ability to discern lies. And that you don’t die even if your head gets chopped off by it!”

Callius the Judge.

This hot-blooded nickname was becoming popular.

"What the hell? Can you even call that a sword? If you have your head cut off, you have to be dead!"

"It’s true! He carries a decapitated head with him and burned all the riches of the corrupt lords!"

What a bizarre notion, to say that you can't die even if you have your head cut off.

Besides, carrying it and burning the lord's wealth in front of people’s eyes!

"Oh, it's a shame! If you're going to burn it, just give to me!"

It was painful just thinking about it.

And it was terrifying.

"Anyway, stop talking nonsense. If you get caught, you'll die a dog’s death! A dog’s death!"

At the other side of the tavern.

There was a group who happened to be the subject of the story that the knights were gossiping about.

"Hey, Judge. Would you like to buy me a beer, please?"

"Buy one yourself, Helena."

It was Callius' group.

"You've made so much money! Shouldn't a guy be happy to buy a girl as beautiful as me a beer?"

After depositing some of the by-products of the thunder wolf dragon and receiving the advance payment, Callius was now flush with money.

Excluding the twenty thousand gold he’d invested in Helena, he still had sixty thousand.

This amount was slightly more than the annual tax of a large-ish territory.

"But the rumours are strange. You didn’t burn any money, did you?"

The wealth Callius had obtained by robbing the corrupt nobles' estates was well over thirty thousand gold. Even though half the money had been reserved for the territorial residents, this was still quite a lot.

The gold coins that were carefully collected were now to be used to rebuild the kingdom.

‘Using it for myself is no different than using it for the kingdom, after all.'

Callius sincerely thought so.

"Master, would you like a beer?"

"Alright. Order some more meat to feed Vivi, he’s got a healthy appetite."

Callius, who was eating meat with a knife and fork, looked noble even when he was eating, so Helena was satisfied just watching him eat.

In any case, Callius liked the meat in this tavern so much that there were already more than ten plates piled up.

"Master, aren't you favouring Vivi too much these days? I'm still more useful, right?"

"Don’t talk nonsense."

Comparing Bruns and Vivi, of course the latter was more useful.

What Bruns did was chores that anybody could do, so if Callius had to prioritize, Vivi would definitely win.

Aside from that, compared to the young and cute Vivi, wasn’t Bruns getting on in his years?

If only he were a woman.

Besides, his time in the battlefield has left Bruns with a rugged body full of corded muscles, so he wasn’t exactly a pretty picture to look at.

‘Come to think of it, why am I carrying this guy with me?'

Callius was once again plunged into doubt.

But Callius' train of thought, as he was weighing Bruns' worth for a while, was broken.

“You, the one with the beast.”

Because someone was talking.

"?"

It was the first time he’d seen this man.

Callius really didn't want to come in contact with this guy, with his pale white blonde hair, plump cheeks and narrow slit-like eyes.

As Callius watched him, silent, the man smirked and held out his hand.

"Sell it. I'll pay a good price."

What did he say?

"You’re asking me to sell Vivi?"

"Vivi? Shit, what a ridiculous name. I'd rather call it something like Charles. Sell Charles to me."

He named it as if it already belonged to him. It was absurd, but Callius had only just arrived in the capital.

He didn't want to cause any fuss, so he calmly answered with only words.

"Go away."

He tried to wave the man off as if he was swatting away a fly, but got an unexpected response.

"What? Don't you know who I am?"

The man was making an odd expression.

As if not being able to recognize him was a fresh and funny occurrence.

Come to think of it, his face looked like that of a young bandit, but his clothes were made of quite luxurious fabric.

When he looked at Helena to check if she knew, she just shrugged, indicating she was in the same boat.

"Haa! You’re in Karradi and you don't know me? Hey! You guys over there! Who am I?!"

"Young Master Viole!"

One of the knights who’d been watching the scene closely responded in a polite manner.

"Viole?"

– He’s the eldest son of Count Artemion.

Orcal, who was quietly sipping his beer, conveyed through a worm.

The eldest son of Count Artemion.

The guy did have some background.

He was the son of one of the few counts of the kingdom.

Besides, if it was Count Artemion –

It was interesting.

"Now do you know? So, hand over Charles to me. I, Viole, am known for my eyes, and I can tell that it isn’t an ordinary wolf, so I'll happily pay the price."

Viole took a bag of gold coins from his arms and tossed it on the table.

Judging by the clinking sound and the size, it had a dozen gold coins at most.

But the guy was confident.

"This should be enough. They aren’t your usual gold coins, they’re imperial ones, so this should be more than enough."

Imperial gold coins?

"Oh, imperial gold coins! They’re hard to find in the kingdom."

They had less impurities and were engraved with sophisticated gold engraving, so they weren’t easy to forge.

So they were valued at about ten times the kingdom’s gold coins.

"Is that so."

He slapped away Helena’s hands that were fiddling with the coins, stopping her excited explanation, and put the pouch of gold into his sleeve.

It was sad that a noble of the kingdom was paying with imperial gold coins, but what could he do?

The reality was that it was common knowledge that the kingdom only had a scant few years left before it was swallowed by the empire.

The imperial coins certainly felt a bit heavier than normal gold coins, and had higher purity.

Anyway, they belonged to him now.

"You know how to behave. Then I'll take care of this guy."

"Vivi, attack."

– Crack!

"Ugh! How dare this bastard –!!"

Viole got angry and tried to hit Vivi, but Vivi instinctively emitted a stronger electric current in response.

It’d grown a little bit bigger in the past few days, and it had become familiar with wielding lightning. Now the lightning it emitted was as thick as a spider's web.

"Ugh!"

Strong enough to chastise a rude nobleman.

White steam rose from Viole's head, which had been hit by Vivi's thunderbolt. Seeing how he trembled, it had been a pretty painful hit.

"Hey! You all! Why is no one…!!"

It must have been quite painful, since Viole's eyes had turned red as he shouted for help.

The knights seated at various tables stood up as if they had been waiting for this moment.

A chance to have the eldest son of Count Artemion in their debt.

But unfortunately, they met the wrong opponent.

Stab.

Callius drew his sword and stabbed it on the floor.

Boom–!

In an instant, an intangible pressure pressed down on the area. No one could budge.

‘I can't, move…!'

‘This spirit level… ‘

‘It’s a high paladin!'

It wasn’t limited to just the knights who’d been escorting Viole, everybody else seated inside the tavern were affected as well. It was if they’d been glued to the earth.

“You… what did you do to my knights?”

"I don't think there's any need to answer somebody who's struggling against such a young beast."

"You bastard!!"

Creak.

Callius got up and looked down at Viole.

The moment his eyes met with those heartless grey pupils, Viole's body was filled with an indescribable sensation that made him tremble from head to toe.

"I owe Count Artemion a debt. Tell him that the debt has been repaid today."

Considering that the debt of a sacred stone was repaid with the price of his son's life, it was cheap enough.

As Callius left the tavern, Viole's bloodshot eyes followed him.

Ignoring that gaze, Bruns trailed after Callius, and asked him a question as they walked.

"Will this be fine?"

“It’d be nice if he gave me an excuse.”

Count Artemion’s wealth was worth salivating over.

“I have to take him down anyway.”

For the sake of the future, it wouldn’t be good to keep him alive.

Editor's Notes:

[1] In these chapters the author consistently misspells Orcal’s name as 오스칼 (Oscar), but we’re not going to keep that.

[2] 뤼츠 팔라딘 (lwicheu palladin), the author himself anglicizes it as ‘reach paladin’ in the raws. We think the word he wanted to use was ‘rutz’, which comes from an Old German word meaning ‘renowned’. We’ll be using ‘legendary paladin’ as the translation.