SWY 127

Next to the briefly flinching Lestel, a man with a hammer suddenly leapt out.

“Watch out!”

The one who shouted the warning and hurled a trap was Samson. The trap wrapped around the hammer-wielder’s legs, causing him to stumble. Lestel swung and severed the man’s neck before immediately rifling through the dead Hoffman’s body, eyes sharp. If it was something important, like the key to the storehouse where food and hostages were kept, it would surely be on him.

Grrrr!

“Aaaagh! P-please, spare me!”

“Get back!”

The sound of clashing weapons, the howls of predators, and the screams of people being torn apart alive only deepened the chaos.

“Who the hell are you?! Where did you come from?!”

Sharhan, finally facing Alfredo, raised an eyebrow at the man who was now frantic. He hadn’t noticed from afar, but now that they were up close, Alfredo’s face seemed familiar. He’d once been a knight’s squire who used to come pick up Lestel as a child.

That squire, a few years older than Sharhan and Lestel, had always followed behind the knight, his eyes constantly shifting as if waiting for an opportunity. Sharhan had once seen him bullying a younger squire when the knight was away and had asked, “Why keep someone like that around?”

The knight had replied with a benevolent smile, saying he wanted to teach and shape him into a good man. “How could I cast out someone I’ve already taken in?”

Back then, Sharhan had admired him as a noble knight. But now he understood, someone with evil in their heart, no matter how polished their appearance, would always betray you when given the chance. Just look at his uncle, Gil, or Alfredo.

“I think I’ve seen you somewhere… Wait, you’re–”

Alfredo seemed to recognize Sharhan too. His eyes darted around, then froze at the sight of Lestel’s silver hair.

“When you see your master, you’re supposed to kneel and greet him.”

“Master, you dare!”

Alfredo, snarling with a fierce glare, flinched. Sharhan, who had once sparred with him a few times at the knight’s request, knew his skill well.

It had been over a decade since then, but Alfredo didn’t strike him as someone who had improved drastically. He hadn’t been especially talented to begin with.

“Scared? Did getting beaten as a kid come back to you?”

“You think I’m the same as back then?!”

Stung in the ego, Alfredo charged at Sharhan with his sword. But Sharhan had been waiting. He deflected the blow with his spear and immediately lunged at Alfredo’s chest.

Alfredo flinched and leapt back, the spear grazing his chest and slicing only his coat. Sharhan clicked his tongue and launched another series of attacks.

“What’s happening with the fire?!”

Even as they fought, Alfredo kept glancing toward the flames.

“It’s somewhat under control, but we need more hands to put it out completely!”

“Hurry up! Now!”

“You’re awfully relaxed, thinking about something else while fighting me.”

As Sharhan’s attacks became more intense, Alfredo’s face twisted. Backed into a corner, his eyes darted rapidly, calculating.

Suddenly, he yanked the hem of a soldier’s clothes as the man passed with a bucket of water and shoved him at Sharhan.

Sharhan dodged easily and stabbed the soldier in the thigh. Screaming, the man dropped the water and collapsed.

Using the soldier as a shield, Alfredo opened the door to his quarters and pulled something out – a boy, about six years old, mouth and hands bound. He wasn’t alive. His darkened skin and low growls made it clear he was undead.

“The fire’s fine! Stop that bastard!”

Three or four soldiers who had been putting out the fire rushed toward Sharhan. Alfredo, having gone too far to turn back now, fled with the boy.

Sharhan hurled a trap at them, not at Alfredo, but at the undead child. It wrapped around the stiff body, causing the boy to collapse forward.

“Gary!”

As Alfredo scrambled to lift the boy, Sharhan threw another trap at him and turned to fend off the soldiers.

“Sharhan! This way!”

Glancing back, he saw Lestel holding up a key and sprinting toward the storehouse. Lestel quickly cut down the guards at the door and unlocked it.

“Ardelle! Samson! The door’s open!”

Sharhan shouted while continuing to fight.

“Got it!”

“We’re coming!”

“Sharhan, hurry too!”

“I’ll come after I get Alfredo!”

He couldn’t let Alfredo escape. Sharhan pushed forward, slicing down soldiers one after another. It took time only because of their numbers.

Meanwhile, Alfredo, having freed himself from the trap, was fleeing again with the boy.

“Shit!”

Sharhan cursed and prepared to chase after him, muscles tensing, when something zipped past above him. A trap, spinning fast. Turning, he saw Randall.

Randall had thrown the trap at Alfredo’s legs and, once it caught, dashed forward and slashed at both sides of Alfredo’s thigh without mercy.

Seeing that, Sharhan turned away. He could trust Randall to handle Alfredo. Of all of them, Randall had the most reason to be furious.

“Hurry up!”

Lestel was holding the storehouse door and cutting down enemies approaching. Ardelle and Samson had already gone inside. Sharhan quickly joined Lestel, helping take down the remaining enemies.

“Randall! Hurry inside!”

Some soldiers began abandoning the fight and fleeing. But now the walking corpses were arriving at the storehouse too.

There were only five, easy enough to kill, but the real problem was the people hovering outside, trying to get in while pretending to be survivors.

“P-please let us in! We’re survivors who were being held by those bastards!”

Just as Sharhan and Lestel exchanged looks, Goran shouted, “Not them!” His furious expression suggested these were survivors who had actively cooperated with the enemy.

Just then, Randall arrived, dragging the flailing Alfredo.

“We’re about to shut the door. Anyone else left to bring in?”

“No. I confirmed everyone on our side is already inside.”

Sharhan nodded, kicked a man screaming to be let in, and stepped inside. Lestel followed and slammed the door shut.

Outside, fists pounded the door and screams filled the air, but inside, only the sound of harsh breathing echoed in silence.

Sharhan looked around the dark interior. The noise outside must have reached them, but the captives inside were deathly still, not even asking what was happening. He was worried.

“Can we light a fire?”

“T-there’s a torch bracket on the wall.”

Someone answered softly. Samson felt along the wall and found the torch. He lit it using a flint underneath.

Once he lit the torch on the opposite wall too, the grim scene became clear. The hostages weren’t just locked up, they were bound as well.

“P-Peter! Robby!”

Ardelle, frozen in fear and trembling, finally called out names one by one.

“M-miss?!”

“Peter!”

She stumbled forward toward Peter. Samson and Randall called out too,

“Ian? Ian!”

Sharhan and Lestel called for Derry. But no matter how loud they shouted, no answer came.

“If you’re looking for the mage boy, he’s over there.”

A woman, likely one of Randall’s allied survivors, pointed to a corner.

Rushing over, they found Derry tossed aside like garbage.

“Derry!”

He was unconscious, his body black and swollen with bruises from a severe beating. Sharhan clenched his teeth in fury and gently shook him.

“Derry! Wake up!”

Even after several shakes and calling his name, he didn’t wake. But finally, his eyelids fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes.

“Sha… Lord Sharhan?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I came to get you.”

“Th-thank… you…”

“Are you alright? Can you hold on?”

“Yes… I can… hold on.”

He forced a smile to reassure Sharhan, but there was no light in his expression. Clicking his tongue, Sharhan opened a water flask and helped him drink.

Just then–

“Sharhan? Sha… Sharhan, is that you?!”

Someone called out as if clinging to a lifeline. The voice was familiar. Sharhan’s body stiffened as he slowly turned.

A man, lying askew, had raised his head and was staring at him.

It was someone Sharhan also recognized.

“Uncle.”