“After all, if the orcs are captured, they end up in the same state. Nothing can be done about it.”
After watching the executions for a while, Damon quietly shifted his body and slipped out toward the rear.
A brief look had been enough for him to grasp, to some extent, the positions of the orc sentries and the deployment of their forces.
Having retreated behind the pile of corpses, Damon tried to leave at once. Just then,
something seized his waistband in a tight grip.
“Ugh.”
A chill ran down his spine, but Damon desperately calmed himself and turned his head.
“Lucky me.”
Realizing that what had grabbed his waistband was a human hand protruding from the pile of corpses,
Damon let out a sigh of relief. But when he bent down to pry the fingers loose,
a young voice leaked faintly from between the corpses.
“P-please save me.”
The voice was weak, but it did not sound as though its owner was injured. Damon made as little noise as possible
as he dug through the pile of bodies. The owner of the voice soon revealed himself.
“He’s just a kid?”
There, a boy soldier who looked no more than fifteen or sixteen was hiding, his body curled up as tightly as possible.
Judging from the fact that he wore the same uniform as Damon, he belonged to Icarot, and from his insignia, he seemed to be a unit commander of noble birth.
However, aside from bloodstains here and there, his uniform was mostly intact, without any tears.
If he had been in a close battle, there was no way his uniform would have remained so undamaged.
With a brief glance, Damon roughly guessed what had happened.
“You stripped off all your armor and hid, didn’t you? A noble, afraid to fight?”
Damon’s tone suddenly turned cold. Even common-born soldiers were risking their lives in battle,
yet a noble unit commander, who should have been setting an example, had hidden without even fighting.
There was no way he could not feel anger welling up at that. Damon was about to leave the boy behind and depart.
Whether he lived or died was the boy’s own concern.
But the boy’s next words forced him to stop in his tracks.
“If you just leave, I’ll scream.”
Damon turned his head and cast an enraged glare at the boy.
“Are you saying we should die together?”
“Yes. If I stay here, I won’t survive anyway.”
Damon, dumbfounded, wore a look of disbelief.
“From the looks of it, you can walk. Why don’t you go on your own two feet?”
“I’m so scared I c-can’t possibly take a single step.”
Left with no choice, Damon bent down and helped the boy to his feet.
A faint trace of color returned to the boy’s deathly pale face.
“T-thank you. My name is Dietrich.”
“If you want to live, shut your trap and stay quiet.”
At the vicious profanity he had never heard before, the young unit commander named Dietrich had no choice but to close his mouth.
When would a noble ever have heard such abuse? Damon carefully surveyed his surroundings and slipped out of the area.
Afraid of losing him, the boy quickly followed close behind.
Orc sentries were everywhere. But Damon had honed surprise attacks and infiltration to perfection since his days in the Guardian Demon Lord’s Army.
Recalling his experience from back then, Damon began to leave the place carefully, avoiding the gazes of the orc guards.
“Judging from your uniform, we seem to be from the same side. Where on earth were you stationed?”
After they safely escaped the orc-occupied zone, Dietrich began persistently prying into Damon’s identity.
That was understandable, for it was no exaggeration to say that their safe escape had been entirely thanks to Damon.
Damon’s survival skills were truly astonishing. It should never have been easy to get out of a place swarming with orc infantry,
whose senses of smell and hearing surpassed those of humans, yet Damon had made his way through that deadly situation with almost animal-like instincts.
“Kireuk.”
The sentries they occasionally ran into had their throats cut before they could even let out a proper scream.
Though he could not deploy magic, Damon’s distinctive movements were still alive and well, making it possible.
Thus, before daybreak, the two were able to escape the orc-occupied territory and leave the Carnatic Plains behind.
“Were you perhaps serving as an assassin? From your skills, it seems like it.”
Unable to endure the continued questions, Damon turned his head.
A thick killing intent clung to the corners of his eyes.
“If you keep wagging that mouth of yours, I’ll use the easiest method.”
“E-easiest method?”
“The dead cannot speak. Ever again.”
Overwhelmed, Dietrich clamped his mouth shut.
The other party was not someone he could communicate with at all.
“Judging from the form of his uniform, he certainly doesn’t seem to outrank me... But all the insignia have burned away, so I can’t tell.”
Not only the uniform but even his face was badly scorched, making it impossible to make out his features.
Dietrich had not noticed when they escaped at night, but once dawn broke, he was startled upon seeing Damon’s face.
Though the man had suffered grave injuries that would have left an ordinary person unable to move, the one who had saved him did not utter even a single groan.
Judging from the blisters covering his skin, the pain must have been anything but ordinary.
What was immediately clear was that the other man was very short and that he was a hunchback with a bent back.
Beyond that, however, there was nothing by which to guess his status.
Seeing Damon set off again, Dietrich quickly followed after him.
He firmly believed that if he simply followed this man, he would be able to leave this place safely.
Having already seen him silently kill more than ten orc sentries, Dietrich knew he had more than enough ability to do so.
The two walked for a while with their direction set toward the west.
It was only after quite some time had passed that Damon’s mouth, which had seemed as though it would never open, finally did.
“Do you happen to know the way to Feldrian?”
Dietrich brightened and answered him.
“Yes, I do. Feldrian is located about a week from here in the direction where the sun sets.”
“Have you ever been there?”
Dietrich shrugged.
“I’m very familiar with the geography between Feldrian and here, because I often went hunting with my father in the past.”
“Hunting? Hmph. Must be nice to have such an easy life.”
Dietrich flinched for a moment at the sneer tinged with cynicism, but the fact that the other man had started talking heartened him.
Soon, Dietrich began rattling on about his own status.
Perhaps it was an attempt to draw the other man’s interest.
“My father is Marquis Briggs, a highly renowned noble even in Feldrian. I participated in this war together with him. Originally, when the order to retreat was given, I should have withdrawn immediately, but...”
“You were so terrified your feet wouldn’t move. Is that it?”
Dietrich was rendered speechless for an instant.
The reason anger began to quietly rise in him at Damon’s continual jeering was probably his pride as a noble.
Now that they had left the orc-occupied territory, his fear had long since vanished.
Moreover, since the other man’s manner of speech was that of a typical commoner, a feeling of disdain naturally arose within him.
“You go too far. I, a noble, am making an exception by speaking politely to you. Isn’t this too much?”
“And?”
“Please treat me in a manner befitting my status. Once we arrive in Feldrian, I will reward you sufficiently for saving me.”
After staring at Dietrich’s face for a moment, Damon snorted.
“There is no treatment due to a coward who hid beneath corpses without even fighting.”
In the end, Dietrich’s anger exploded.
“I cannot tolerate this insult. I challenge you to a duel.”
“A duel? You?”
“The Briggs family is a renowned martial house even in Feldrian. Do not look down on me.”
Having spoken, Dietrich drew the sword at his waist.
Not a single drop of blood stained it, and its keen edge seemed to flow out in lines.
It was clear at once that the blade had never been swung at an enemy.
However, Dietrich’s stance was unexpectedly without openings.
Even at a glance, one could tell that he had trained diligently in the basics.
Despite the fact that his opponent had drawn a sword, Damon did not so much as twitch an eyebrow.
“Your fundamentals seem quite solid. But let me tell you, without real combat experience, it’s all useless. At best, you’ll be lucky if you only add to the number of corpses on a battlefield.”
“I’m attacking. Hyaa!”
Unable to endure any longer, Dietrich launched the first strike.
The longsword gripped in both hands shot like lightning toward Damon’s waist.
Damon twisted his waist slightly and let the attack slide past.
“Not bad.”
Damon seemed somewhat surprised by the unexpected skill.
He had completely dismissed the boy because he had been hiding in terror, but the boy’s swordsmanship was unexpectedly excellent.
His balance was good, and his center of gravity did not falter even after swinging his sword.
It was a level of skill comparable to that of a decent knight.
But even so, the boy could never be Damon’s match.
In terms of real combat experience, the gap between the two of them was as vast as heaven and earth.
Moreover, since the boy was not wearing armor, his entire body was wide open...
“Urgh.”
With a heavy groan, Dietrich toppled backward.
Damon had lightly knocked aside the sword with the gauntlet on his left hand, closed in, and struck Dietrich directly in the gu mi point—that is, the pit of his stomach.
Struck in the solar plexus, Dietrich fainted on the spot.
Of course, since the gu mi point was an acupoint that induced unconsciousness, it would not pose any particular danger to his life.
Looking down at Dietrich, who had gone completely limp, Damon shook his head.
“I did something pointless.”
It was all well and good to give a bitter lesson to a greenhorn who knew nothing of the heights of the sky,
but now he would not be able to leave until the boy woke up.
Left with no choice, Damon sat cross-legged and began drawing in mana.
Since his physical condition was still not normal, being able to deploy magic would make it much easier to leave this place.
“If by some chance I’m discovered by a wyvern, and I can’t use magic, then I’ll be as good as dead on the spot.”
It was no easy task, but Damon persistently continued to control the mana.
Perhaps his efforts bore fruit, for the surrounding mana slowly began responding to his control.
“There.”
A look of joy spread over Damon’s entire face as he rose to his feet.
Just then, Dietrich also seemed to regain consciousness, letting out a faint groan as he lifted his head.
“Ugh...”
“Get up, brat.”
As Dietrich opened his eyes groggily, they were filled with shock.
To think that his opponent had knocked him out bare-handed, without even drawing a sword...
In truth, unlike his weak disposition, Dietrich’s swordsmanship could be said to rank among the best of those his age.
That was because his father, a Sword Master, had trained him harshly from childhood.
Therefore, in a one-on-one duel, he had been fully confident even against a knight of the guard.
And yet he had been knocked unconscious in a single blow by a common-born opponent who had not even drawn a sword...
“It looks like you’ve trained somewhat, but your sword is only flashy on the outside. It’s the very model of swordsmanship that is completely useless on a battlefield where life and death cross paths.”
“Do not insult my family’s swordsmanship. I’ll have you know my father is a Sword Master.”
Despite having experienced his opponent’s unexpected skill, Dietrich had still not lost heart.
But the fact remained that he had lost, and a deep sense of defeat hung over his face.
“There’s nothing especially remarkable about a Sword Master. I’ve already fought countless Sword Masters before.”
After throwing out those brief words, Damon turned and strode away.
Startled, Dietrich hurried after him.
Of course, the words the other man had spoken did not even enter his ears.
“Impossible. Yes, absolutely impossible. A Sword Master is no ordinary being...
Surely he has never seen a Sword Master even once in his life.”