Chapter 21 : Chapter 21

Chapter 21. Fang (4)

“I have a question.”

As they climbed the mountain path, one knight spoke up.

“Do we really need this many to catch just one runaway dog? A deserter who cast aside honor—surely anyone could step forward and take his head.”

It was a reasonable question.

Everyone knew the knight orders were merciless in their treatment of deserter knights, but even so, this much force seemed excessive.

“Even if he commands a bandit group, with our strength, wiping a village from the map would hardly be difficult.”

The captain gave a curt answer.

“The higher-ups deemed this force appropriate.”

“But… why?”

“Because this isn’t the first time knights have been dispatched to catch him.”

The captain turned cold eyes on the knight.

“Up to now, six knights of our order have been killed by him.”

The wind howled across the barren hills.

“He may know nothing of honor, but when it comes to killing, he is skilled.”

“……”

“Do you know what nickname that runaway dog had, back when he was still in our order?”

The captain’s voice dropped.

“Berserker.”

***

What was the decisive difference between a Sword Beginner and a Sword Walker? Many things could be listed, but everyone would agree on one: the 「Road」.

Sword Beginners merely accepted mana, accumulating it within themselves. But Sword Walkers could truly wield mana.

For a Beginner, their second heart only allowed them to weakly reinforce the sword, sharpen their senses, and resist mana ever so slightly. That was the extent of their permission.

Compared to mana’s true potential, it was pitifully small.

But Sword Walkers—They created roads branching from their second heart like veins, spreading throughout their bodies. These roads granted superhuman strength.

They could channel mana at will, sharpening their blades far beyond a normal swordsman’s, making their movements swift and precise.

Yet their greatest strength wasn’t hardened blades or stronger bodies. The true reason Sword Walkers were called superhuman was the power of the 「Road」.

“Three, four, five…”

Beyond their own bodies, Sword Walkers could cast their Roads outward, like webs. These served many uses—detecting intruders instantly, enhancing their abilities within their own domain, granting them overwhelming advantage.

“Six.”

For Sword Walkers, the Road was everything.

“That man’s Road ends at six.”

I finished my observation from the shadows. The bandit leader of the 「Red Wolves」—a deserter knight—was indeed a Sword Walker.

But still.

“Compared to the Black Bride Seol Yoon, or to Fetel, he’s lacking.”

It was not overwhelming.

“Fetel’s Roads were countless. Seol Yoon’s was one, branching in bizarre, unpredictable ways. But he is too straightforward, unstable.”

Liam replied,

「That’s only natural.」

“Why?”

「Because Seol Yoon is a once-in-a-century prodigy, and Fetel is a seasoned knight far too skilled for this backwater.」

True enough.

It wasn’t strange—rather, the others I’d met were the unusual ones.

「Still, even if he’s weaker than you expected… you know, don’t you?」

“Yes.”

Liam gave me a sideways look.

I answered with what he wanted to hear.

“I won’t let down my guard.”

***

Murphy, the leader of the 「Red Wolves」, despised the situation. Just moments ago, he had been relishing the thought of slaying another arrogant knight and claiming the head as a trophy.

But then—“Captain! A ghost—it must be a ghost!”

“Or a black magician! Didn’t that drunk in the tavern say so? That this place was a black magician’s lair, hee… hee-hic…”

“Or maybe it’s the plague—something terrible—”

What nonsense.

“Silence!”

Murphy’s roar carried mana, and with it his men flinched, hiccuping as they clamped their mouths shut. His voice was the roar of a beast.

He glared at them.

“Black magicians? Those fat, spoiled hedonists who can’t last a day without wine and women? They’d never come out to a dump like this.”

“B-but…”

“You know nothing of black magicians. If this truly were their lair, you’d already be skeleton soldiers or gutted sacrifices to demons.”

Damn it.

At times like this, he regretted leading such ignorant country bumpkins. They had no idea how terrifying black magicians really were.

“And plague? Look around you! Can’t you see the holes in the necks of the corpses? This isn’t plague or ghosts.”

“Then…?”

“Idiots! This is the work of a man! Someone is attacking us!”

Murphy’s rage boiled.

Had the knights already arrived? No. They would never resort to slaughter so dirty.

This had to be someone of his own kind—from the gutter.

‘Too many enemies…’

He had made countless foes. The Red Wolves had raided villages, raped women, slaughtered men. The list of those who’d want revenge was endless.

In the end, Murphy stopped caring who it was.

‘Whoever they are, it doesn’t matter. I’ll kill them.’

He always had. Whether noblemen, weeping maidens, or knights calling him a runaway dog—they all died.

This time would be no different.

“You fools, into the forest—”

And then.

“Aghh!”

One of his men dropped dead.

“Uwaaah!”

The next, drawing his sword in terror, fell.

“Hyahhh!”

Two more—gone.

‘What…’

It was as if a ghost truly had appeared. Murphy stood stunned, then realized he had to move.

He drew his sword, breathing deeply, preparing his Road—“Hup!”

But he could not.

A sudden shiver of danger. He twisted aside just in time—something needle-thin sliced through the space he had just stood in.

‘A sword? That blade—like a needle—’

He regained his balance, following the glint of steel. Out of the darkness stepped his assailant.

A boy.

‘This child killed them all? And slipped past my Road—?’

Murphy’s face twisted as he raised his sword. Even with his Roads incomplete, no mere Beginner could pierce them. Unless this boy was also a Sword Walker.

“Fuuu…”

Mana surged. His Roads blazed, flooding him with superhuman strength. The world sharpened as he charged.

‘Crafty brat.’

His senses, honed to the level of foresight, read the boy’s intent—the fling of dirt from his foot, the thrust of that needle-like blade through the dust.

The power of Roads: weaving countless signals into near-precognition.

“Die!”

He whirled his sword, changing his direction to counter. The boy looked no stronger than a Sword Beginner. He might have killed weaklings, but he could not match Murphy.

Which was why Murphy failed to notice.

“That blade work—so what—”

The boy was no Sword Walker. Yet through relentless suspicion and observation, he could extract clues from every tiny motion, responding as if foreseeing the future.

“A… Beginner—?”

Murphy faltered.

His strikes, enhanced by Roads, missed entirely.

“……?”

Clang!

Even when his sword connected, it rebounded with a metallic shriek.

“A beginner's sword cannot be this strong…”

And then—

“What tri—ugh!”

The needle-sword punched through his thigh muscle before he could react.

“Khrrg!”

Murphy lashed out, but the boy had already withdrawn, evading as if he too could see the future.

Murphy bit his lip, glaring at the shadowed boy.

“You—what are you…”

“……”

“Not even a Sword Walker—yet you breach my Roads, like boring through holes…”

Impossible.

Unthinkable for a Sword Beginner.

“You won’t leave alive.”

He looked down at his wounded thigh, then inhaled deeply, lungs straining. His second heart thundered, pumping mana until his Roads writhed like serpents.

His reason burned away. Power devoured him.

It was the source of his nickname—Berserker. The madness that crushed even knights who hunted him.

“……”

Facing the beast, the boy sheathed his needle-like blade. He drew another—a dagger. Now he held two blades.

And with a calm voice, he said,

“Everything is going as planned.”

Words Murphy could not understand.

“Good.”

The boy vanished into the dark.

“You will die here.”

Just like an assassin of the Free City.