The Warrior’s Ballad

Chapter 13

Translator: Willia 

The room wasn’t soundproof, so the thumping noises of a couple next door came through unfiltered. The embarrassing moans could be heard continuously.

However, Ricardt and Sandy, who were listening to those sounds in their inn room, showed no reaction at all.

It was because of what had happened during the day, such embarrassing noises couldn’t move their emotions that had become as hard and heavy as stone.

Sandy leaned against the window, looking up at the night sky. Despite countless stars shining, darkness filled most of the sky.

Eventually, the thumping sounds stopped. Silence settled between them for a while.

“What are you?”

After about six hours of not saying a word since the incident, Sandy finally spoke.

“What do you mean?”

“Rochi became a senior adventurer with his own skills. Even if you could somehow kill the Vilton brothers with a surprise attack, it’s not the same with Rochi.”

There’s a limit to being extraordinary; it was too extreme for a ten-year-old to overpower an adventurer who trained in Mana Drive and ranked high in the academy competitions.

Ricardt thought for a moment before answering.

“Every movement has a single point where power is concentrated. It changes every moment, but if you turn the direction precisely at the right moment, they end up hurting themselves. Like aiming a spear at a charging wild boar’s forehead. I don’t need to stab it myself. It wasn’t me who broke the sword, but that guy Rochi himself.”

It wasn’t an exact analogy, but it was similar to a counter in hand-to-hand combat. It was applying that concept to weapons.

“So what does that mean… It’s easy to say, but how do you do that?”

“You get better with practice. Eventually, you can do it as naturally as breathing. On the battlefield, you don’t have time to strike multiple times with a weapon. You have to kill one person at a time. Otherwise, you might die from a stray blade or spear.”

All martial arts are born and developed to suit their purpose and use. Battlefield swordsmanship is inevitably simple and deadly. Not just to kill more, but because that’s how you survive.

Sandy turned her head to gaze at Ricardt intently. He looked unmistakably like a cute young master.

Surely, he hadn’t participated in a war at his age, and even if he had, he couldn’t have much combat experience.

“You said you’re from a knight family, right? Did your father teach you? From a young age?”

“Yes, something like that.”

Ricardt glossed over it, and Sandy fell into thought for a while before speaking again.

“I’ve seen many talented kids. And I’ve occasionally seen monstrous geniuses who put those talented kids to shame. But I’ve never seen anyone like you, Ricky.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“A compliment? Hmm, let’s say it is. But it’s kind of… scary.”

“Even now?”

Sandy looked at Ricardt for a while without saying anything. She seemed to be contemplating various aspects of Ricardt she had seen today.

For some reason, the words Ricardt had said all day, “So what,” kept ringing in her ears. The tone, the inflection, and the sincerity.

Sandy raised her eyebrows playfully and smiled.

“Not as much of a kid as I thought?”

“Hahaha…”

Ricardt just laughed as well. Finally, the atmosphere seemed to lighten up a bit.

It was late at night, and the two fell asleep in their underwear in the same bed. It was Ricardt’s first time sleeping with a woman other than his mother.

He hadn’t really lied to Sandy, but there were things he hadn’t told her. He found her pitiful. And, he was glad she had comrades who were like brothers to her.

Knowing that half-baked sympathy was the worst insult, he kept those thoughts to himself.

And now, they would arrive at the academy tomorrow. The journey since leaving home was finally coming to an end.

Where there was meeting, there was parting. In Sandy’s embrace, Ricardt recalled the people he had met along the way.

Arno, Daisy, Kaufmann, Sandy’s comrades, his family, and those who had fallen on the previous battlefield, one by one…

The night deepened.

The capital of Beringen, Beringen, was a military fortress city. This was because it was actually a territory responsible for defending the border region.

To the east, there were low mountain ranges, and beyond them, forests inhabited by monsters that did not allow human passage. Goblins, orcs, undead, man-eating spiders, werewolves, trolls, and so on…

Even if a individual creatures could be dealt with by humans, when they formed groups, it was utterly impossible for human strength to handle them.

So it was a wise choice to just draw a border and not cross over to that side.

History records occasionally mention large-scale orc invasions, and humans have never successfully repelled them.

There were only records of orcs freely ravaging the area and gorging themselves, then withdrawing on their own after falling into internal strife.

In other words, if monsters decided to invade on a large scale, it was considered a natural disaster like an earthquake, tsunami, or typhoon. All one could do was hope it would pass quickly.

To the north, far away, there was the sea, a region where Norsemen who came by ship would appear.

They were both traders and raiders; when the times were good, they simply traded, but if things went south, they wouldn’t hesitate to wage war.

Thus, the reason and purpose of Beringen’s existence were to repel external invasions. Otherwise, it would become prey itself.

Somehow preventing external invasions from penetrating deeper into the Empire was Beringen’s role and an inescapable destiny.

The Beringen fortress was built on a flattened hilltop, slightly higher than the surrounding area.

A sturdy fortress wall encircled the entire hill, and inside lived about 200 people. The Count did not live there; instead, his estate manager was stationed there.

More people lived below the hill. Like the traces of a water droplet spreading widely upon hitting the ground, about 10,000 people lived widely spread around the hill.

They farmed, hunted, grazed livestock, and engaged in commerce and industry without relying on the fortress wall.

However, the Beringen Academy was not located on either the hill or below it.

A half-day’s journey away from the city, atop a sheer rocky mountain, there was another small fortress resembling an outpost. That was the Beringen Academy. An old fortress repurposed into academy buildings.

Climbing the narrow stairs along the cliff, one would encounter the fortress gate with an imposing and menacing inscription engraved on it.

<Discipline shall set you free.>

There was a boy gazing somewhat blankly up at the inscription. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, likely from the difficult climb.

“What? Who are you?”

The boy snapped out of his daze at the sudden, somewhat provocative question.

A person who appeared slightly older than him, roughly between 16 and 18 years old, was standing with a sword at his waist, looking at him sideways.

“Ah… I’m Boribori, I came from Dusen, I came on Mr. Hartmann’s introduction, and he said I’d be fed here and given a place to sleep…”

“Bori, what? What did you say your name was?”

“Boribori.”

“Are you joking with me?”

“No, my real name really is Boribori…”

The boy with the sword at his waist scowled as he looked at Boribori.

With his tawny bowl-cut hair, slightly sad-looking eyes, a cute nose, and a rather large mouth, his age was hard to determine but he appeared to be around 10 to 12 years old and his height was typical for kids that age.

The problem was that Boribori looked like a beggar.

“First, go wash up. You’re fucking filthy right now.”

“S-sorry.”

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“There’s no ‘sorry’ here. Got it?”

“What?”

“Ask one more time and you’ll get beaten to a pulp, understand?”

“S-sorry…”

“This little…!”

Thwack!

The boy with the sword kicked Boribori in the stomach without warning. Boribori curled over, falling to his knees, unable to breathe properly.

“What do you not understand human speech, you little shit? Don’t make me repeat myself. If you don’t want to die. Filthy bastard.”

He then grabbed Boribori by the hair and dragged him to the well in the inner courtyard. A few students passing by glanced over, some snickering, but most paid no attention.

The boy with the sword drew water from the well and poured it over Boribori without warning.

SPLASH!

Having been struck hard and doused with ice-cold water, Boribori shivered uncontrollably, unable to regain his composure.

“Take off your clothes.”

“…”

Boribori reflexively almost said “What?” but quickly shut his mouth and obeyed. He undressed in the open in broad daylight.

Despite the situation being humiliating, he endured it. Having been born an illegitimate child, he had lived a life of persecution and bullying; this was nothing new to him.

The boy with the sword doused him with water a few more times, then pointed with his thumb to a building.

“Throw away your clothes, wash up on your own, and go in there.”

With that, he left.

Cold, still aching from the kick, Boribori shivered as if he were a prisoner of war, standing naked and trembling.

He drew water from the well and washed himself, the trembling refusing to subside.

Among the students watching from afar, some were snickering as they looked on, including girls.

Boribori scrubbed himself until no more dirt came off, then, covering his private parts with his hands, he headed to the building the boy with the sword had indicated.

Cautiously opening the door and stepping inside, he was greeted by a narrow hallway that extended into a vast room lined with sixty double-decker beds stretching far into the distance.

“Who are you?”

Another unfriendly question was thrown at him. It seemed these people showed hostility before showing any interest in strangers.

“Uh, I’m Boribori. It’s my first time here…”

“So what?”

“What? No, sorry, I mean…”

Boribori couldn’t even repeat himself or say sorry. He was at a loss for words.

“Don’t display your ugly ass here, go hide somewhere out of sight.”

“Did he say his name is Boribori? What kind of name is that? Hahaha.”

“Hey, if you’re gonna die, do it somewhere far away. I’ll kill you if I have to clean up your corpse, seriously.”

The remarks came from all directions, none kind, all filled with contempt and disgust.

But being told to hide was problematic with the beds packed so closely together; there was nowhere to go.

Boribori, unable to dry himself, still naked, moved cautiously until he found an empty-looking bed and carefully sat there. Nearby kids snickered as he did.

After a while, a few kids entered from the far side where the door was. One of them approached Boribori.

This person was larger than most adults and looked as if he could be in his forties.

“Hey.”

“…Yes?”

“Wanna die?”

Boribori looked up at him blankly, feeling a deathly fear, while the snickering around him grew louder. The big kid glared at the laughing kids and spoke.

“Hey, you fucking bitches. You staying silent is even worse. You wanna die for real?”

“S-sorry, Molty. Hey, come over here.”

A kid standing a bit away called to Boribori. Boribori quickly got up and went to him.

“This is an empty bed. Clean it up a bit and stay here.”

The so-called empty bed was actually messy and littered with various kinds of trash.

“Th-thanks.”

“Don’t say thanks here. No apologies either. When passing through the hallway, always step aside first.”

“Got it.”

“Hierarchy comes first here. It’s not a strict rule, but generally, the ones using the top bunks are higher in the hierarchy, and the further inside you go, the stronger they are. If you want to get the spot you want or don’t want to step aside in the hallway, you have to fight and win.”

“…”

“Use this to roughly dry yourself, and wear these clothes. They belonged to the kid who used this bed before.”

They weren’t new clothes. Moreover, they weren’t even clean. But there was no room to be picky.

Swallowing the words of thanks that reached his throat, Boribori silently composed himself.

“By the way, where did the kid who used this bed before go?”

“He’s dead.”

“What?”

“I said he’s dead. Here, you have to earn money and make a living on your own. Seems he got caught up in a knife fight while working in the city.”

“…”

“Don’t worry too much. There are safe jobs too. He pushed himself too hard because he needed money.”

Boribori had nothing to say. Thoughts of having made a mistake by coming here filled his mind. But where could he go if he left here? He was treated as a nuisance at home, and that place was just as cruel as this one.

Other kids were in the same situation. Sometimes, a few would leave, but more kids than expected didn’t leave.

It was because they felt a thin sense of belonging here that even their families couldn’t provide.

Boribori was no different. Born the son of a maid, he grew up watching the legitimate children torment his mother. The legitimate children even forced Boribori to join in on the torment.

Mother, I’m sorry. I can’t live like this, he had said as he left.

There wasn’t a single kid here without a miserable story. If anything, they had it worse than Boribori.

But that night, Boribori was forcibly covered with a blanket and was beaten up. The kids shouted.

“Welcome to the henhouse! Newbie!”

He was beaten until he passed out, and when he woke up, it was morning. Most of the kids had gone to class or to the city, except for a few resting inside.

The ages ranged from 12 to 16, with significant differences in size depending on their growth.

Boribori gradually adapted, moving around the dormitory, and although not close, he made a few acquaintances to talk to.

A month passed, and during that time, he saw many new kids being hazed just like he had been.

Then, there was a new kid who arrived wearing a red cloak. He had blond hair and hazel eyes. Unlike himself when he first arrived, he wasn’t in rags and looked quite neat.

“Hey, who are you?”

A kid near the newbie asked provocatively. Boribori watched from a little distance.

“Ricky.”

The new kid was none other than Ricardt.

“You? That’s quite a fancy name.”

“What’s your name?”

“What?”

“I asked what your name is.”

“Why do you need to know? You wanna die?”

“It’s better to be careful with your words if you don’t mean them.”

“W-what did you say?”

“So, where’s my spot? This is my first time here.”

Boribori’s eyes widened. Although he hadn’t been here long, he had never seen such a bold new kid among the newcomers he’d seen. They were all intimidated and beaten.

It seemed that many other kids felt the same, as their attention naturally focused on the entrance.

“You, what kind of bastard are you? Do you really want to die?”

“Sorry, but I’m not scared in the slightest. It doesn’t suit you either.”

“W-what?”

The kid picking a fight just blinked in disbelief.

“It’s been a while since someone interesting came in.”

Someone remarked. Then, as if they were determined to teach him a lesson, a few kids got off their beds and approached the newcomer. One of them quietly snuck up from behind with a blanket.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“This won’t do. Let’s beat you up a bit.”

At that moment, the kid who had approached from behind threw the blanket over Ricardt. The others immediately rushed in to stomp on him, but the kid facing Ricardt saw a flash in front of his eyes.

Whack!

Then came the sounds of a scuffle followed by a series of dull thuds.

Thud! Whack! Thump! Crack!

Boribori’s eyes widened even more. He couldn’t tell what had happened, but the result was that Ricardt was standing alone while the others were sprawled around him, groaning in pain.

“Ugh…”

“Ah…… shit……”

Ricardt grabbed one kid by the hair and slammed his head into the nearby bedpost.

Smack!

The kid slumped down, blood streaming from his nose. Somehow, the blanket had ended up in Ricardt’s hand, and he alternated his gaze between the blanket and the fallen kids.

Then, he said something unbelievable.

“Oh, was this an initiation? Sorry. Want to try again?”

*****

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