Sword Pilgrim

Chapter 81

It was somewhat of a disappointment.

Stepping into the count’s mansion, Callius had been searching for the magic beasts Viole was purported to be managing.

He didn’t even need to draw his sword.

Every time he showed the count's token, the doors opened in an instant.

There was no need to apply force.

However, as he passed by, he unexpectedly came upon Vivi.

Callius tried to approach it, wondering why the kid who was supposed to be with Orcal was here instead, but Vivi disappeared in an instant.

And then an artifact triggered inside the mansion’s basement.

Count Artemion was no fool, it seemed, and Callius lost his way.

Not only did his sense of direction get messed up, even the passages started moving around all of a sudden, and after trying various other methods to find his way, Callius decided to simply break through the walls in the end.

That was how he arrived here.

‘I was wondering where you’d ended up…'

Bruns had apparently been imprisoned here.

What the hell was up with that idiotic bastard he’d come here to find?

If he’d wanted to grab a hostage to threaten Callius, why not go for a kid like Vivi?

Why take this useless fool hostage, instead?

“How troublesome.”

His opponent seemed like an idiot who didn’t know how the world worked.

Can you really make somebody obey just by capturing and holding hostage a servant of theirs?

“I believed in you, Boss! I know you're just being shy! That part of you where you just can't be honest is also part of your charm!"

“Shut up, Bruns. Keep running your mouth, and I really might rip it out.”

While Callius fell into deep contemplation as to whether it was really necessary to save this man –

“Uugh! Be careful, Boss!!”

Craaack!

The front paws of a huge demonic beast hit the ground. As the raised dust cloud settled down again, Callius quietly observed it, with his hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist.

“Callius! You bastard, so you really managed to find your way here!”

It was that good-for-nothing.

Viole Artemion.

“There were variables, but you still came here to your death in the end!”

“Why do you want to kill me, when I’ve never done you any wrong? Do you have some kind of mental illness? Or did the count order you?”

“You bastard, so you don’t even fucking remember what you did to me…”

Viole ground his teeth, trembling with rage.

“Ten years ago! When you’d just joined the Church as a monk! Can't you remember?!"

I’ve got no idea.

I can't remember anything.

I became Callius only three years ago.

“What did I do?”

“Damn bastard!! At that time, you’d gotten kicked out of the North and came to the Church to become a monk. And there you met me! Do you know what the first words you ever said to me were?”

“What did I say?”

“You called me scum, born from scum.”

“…”

Scum, born from scum.

Ten years ago, Count Artemion had not yet been a count, but merely an ambitious petty noble whose star had been on the rise, distinguishing himself among his peers, the barons and the viscounts.

Along with the messy state of the kingdom’s internal affairs, he’d contributed to resolving several overlapping incidents and accidents, and had been awarded the title of count.

Callius had considered all aristocratic ranks below the counts as scum, and had therefore denigrated Viole and father Artemion, who’d risen to become a count family after a lot of hard work.

Of course, Viole hadn’t taken the insult lying down, and had tried to inform the Church and have Callius punished.

Unfortunately, it’d been a problem of his background.

At one end was an upstart noble family.

And at the other was a bloodline entwined with the founding myth of the kingdom.

A direct descendent of the one of the four great noble houses.

As a result, Viole had to endure the insult and leave the Church.

“But then…”

“What? You piece of trash.”

“If you’d felt that insulted, why not apply for a duel? Since another nobleman had been so rude towards you?”

“I’ve never even dreamed that those words could come out of your mouth.”

At those words, Callius found that he had nothing to say.

“… It's not going to change anything."

He didn't think it made any difference in the current situation, and there was nothing he could really do about it either.

In any case, Viole had committed a crime by kidnapping Bruns, hadn't he?

It wasn’t particularly upsetting because it was Bruns locked in there, what if it’d been Vivi or Emily?

Even Callius, who’d never been particularly emotive, would’ve gotten angry.

Once he got angry, his inherent qualities would pop out and he’d go absolutely wild.

Not only the traits such as Nobility’s Duty and Scapegrace of the Count Family, etc., but even the temperament and disposition of the original Callius would surface.

It’d be a pain in the ass.

Because he might really transform into the original Callius.

“Are you really holding a petty grudge about something that happened a decade ago? How childish.”

“They say that one’s best achievement is often in where they’re born. You’re just living proof of that, aren’t you?”

Callius felt suffocated by the unfairness of the accusation.

He’d had to nurture this weak body over the years with backbreaking effort. Using Corpse Grace to pile up grudges, and levelling up from being a goddamned talentless dullard to a top-tier pilgrim – was all of this smooth sailing?

No! Absolutely not.

Who could understand how he’d felt when he first had to face and calmly accept this karma! Nobody in this world could even imagine it.

“I was going to deal with you relatively moderately, but I’ve changed my mind.”

Callius drew a sword from his waist.

A sword with a twin-edged red blade, with a flame pattern engraved upon it.

The Tyrant Sword.

“I’ll take an arm first.”

“Come try it! You all, go! Tear him apart! Kill him!!”

– Grooooooooooowwwwlll!!

Creak! Screech! Thud!!

The doors to the large and small iron cages that filled the huge underground area, opened in unison.

As the cages that seemed to be artefacts, opened up, magic beasts of all shapes and sizes poured out, with burning eyes.

They didn’t look normal – not with their red and unfocused eyes, and saliva dripping from their mouths.

Crack!!

The man swung his whip and roared.

"Go!!"

At his command, the beasts began running towards me Callius as if they’d been hypnotized.

There were dozens of demonic beasts jumping from all directions.

In total, about forty.

Looked like Viole Artemion had really been doing a large-scale business.

Still, they were just magic beasts.

Besides –

“Compared to the North, they’re weak.”

Thud, clang – crash!

One slash was enough to handle two of them, and even possibly up to five.

They were cleaved apart.

"What! What’re you doing! Don't get in each other’s way, idiots! Bite him from every direction! Kill!!"

Crack!!

Viole snarled and cracked his whip again. But as the momentum of their charge had been broken, the beasts could only falter and scatter.

“These useless shits!!”

"They really are."

"You shut up! Kill! Kill! Kill him right now!”

Slash!

Another beast had its head cut off and died. It was a natural result. After all, this bastard had no idea.

How many demonic beasts had Callius killed with these hands in the North?

He’d been in so many battles that he could kill any of these beasts with his eyes closed.

Fatalite's Wheel.

The number of beasts he’d slain there was well over seven hundred.

Seven hundred and eighty-four, to be exact.

He’d slaughtered nearly eight hundred heads with his own hands, what were forty more going to do?

“Unlike the beasts that grew up in the harsh environment of the North, with constant fierce battles for establishing hierarchy, the ones here are just like plants in the greenhouse.”

They only had the forms of magic beasts. They were worms wriggling in the mud, who’d never even hunted properly.

They had no way to hurt him.

“Damn it!! Kill him right now! Kill him!!”

Crack!!

– Gruaaaaaaaaaaa!!

The magic beasts’ eyes changed.

Those glaring eyes lost even the last sense of life, and now only contained instinctive hostility.

Not just one of them.

Suddenly, all the beasts that’d been scattered by Callius’ aura, rushed back in at once.

“You’re doing something useless.”

Callius was used to fighting them.

In the War of the North, demonic beasts had always been mixed in the green waves of orcish advance, and in the chaotic flow battle it’d been impossible to distinguish between enemies and allies.

Callius was the one who’d slaughtered more than two thousand orcish heads while navigating through such battlefields.

There was no need to use divine power.

He just avoided what he had to avoid.

And cut what he could cut.

Slash!

He moved with his sword, like flowing water.

Even when he closed his eyes, he could clearly feel the enemies’ hostility prickling on his skin.

The trajectories of their attacks were clear in his mind’s eye, as if he were a prophet.

Truly a pleasurable sensation.

And when he opened his eyes again –

All he could see were shredded fragments of beast corpses, scattered all around.

“Is this all you’ve prepared?”

"Shit!"

Viole ripped his hair out.

How could this bastard have such swordsmanship?

Wasn’t he is the biggest dullard in the kingdom when it came to swords?

Holding a spotless sword, his cuts were as clean as flowing water, and his movements as resplendent as a beautiful dance.

Curiously, there was not even a drop of beast blood on his sword.

Because of the difference in strength.

The gap between the two sides was that vast.

Viole took an unconscious step backwards. Callius on the other hand, despite having slaughtered all the demonic beasts, stood in place, looking no different thanfrom before.

With quiet breaths and an indifferent expression, as if all this had merely been a warm-up exercise.

“Is this all you’ve prepared?”

His eyes were calm as he asked in a quiet voice.

It was just… creepy.

Viole’s hands shook.

“If you try to kill someone, you have to prepare yourself to be killed, too.”

First, an arm.

"Shut up!!"

“I’ll take it.”

Slash!

“Aaaaaaagh!! My arm!! My arm is –! Aaaaaaaaagh!!”

Grabbing his severed arm, Viole struggled.

Looking at his form wriggling like a worm on the ground, Callius looked frowned.

"Really…"

The whip Viole had been wielding –

It was an artifact.

No, rather than an artifact –

‘It's a carcass.'

It was mixed with half of something else, Callius was certain.

It was a carcass made from human flesh, by borrowing the power of God.

By those who worshipped the Whip God.

“Damn it! Hey!! What’re you waiting for! How long are you going to hide? Damn it!! If you hadn't said you'd help, I wouldn't have taken it this far! Hurry up and kill him!!”

“You blame others till the very end, and even try and pass the responsibility to others. You’re truly a great man, huh?”

Whiiiiiish.

Step.

A hooded figure descended from the ceiling, body flexing like a spring.

Although her voice was slightly muffled, it was a woman's.

She jumped straight down, swung the whip in her hand, and wrapped it around Viole's neck like a coiling serpent.

A whip-user…

Probably the one who’d given Viole the carcass whip in the first place.

“Ah! Urrrgh!”

Crack!

The snapping sound of a broken neck resounded in the silence.

Viole died without receiving any help.

“I have no intention of fighting with you. There’s no point clashing with the Hero of the North in this kind of a small place… not that I’d want to fight with any kids here either.”

Whoosh!

The believer who served the God of the Whip threw a smoke bomb and quickly vanished.

[See you next time.]

Callius looked at Viole, who’d died from a broken neck, and then stored the sword into subspace.

If he had to chase, he could.

But he didn’t.

Devotees who worshipped the Whip God had one special ability.

The ability to tame magic beasts.

Originally, they were specialized in training and breeding animals, but from a certain point, they started specializing in taming demonic beasts.

Repeated defeats in war had forced them to do so.

But there were few places in the world that gave succour to the defeated. They could only barely maintain the status quo at best.

There was nothing good about keeping the woman alive.

But nevertheless, Callius chose to leave her alone.

After a while, he broke open the iron bars that’d imprisoned Bruns, and moved deeper into the mansion’s labyrinthine basement.

And reached its deepest part.

At that place –

“You’re here.”

Was a woman, seductive and alluring, dark purple hair hanging down like a waterfall. She was hugging an animal in her bosom.

– Beatrice, greeted him. While Vivi, who never obeyed anyone other than Callius, lay quiet and relaxed in her arms.

Editor's Notes:

None for this chapter.