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Chapter: 09
No one noticed,
but the necromancer’s spell—amplified by the lich—had stopped.
No more soldiers would be rising.
But one problem still remained.
“KyAAAAAH!”
Those already awakened could not be helped.
I swung my key-sword, cutting them down one by one,
while searching for someone whose back I could trust.
“Hey! I’m not your comrade yet, is that it?”
Thud.
At once, a warm presence pressed against my back.
A glance behind me revealed purple hair.
“Apologies. I was distracted for a moment.”
“Yeah, well, whoever caused the problem should take responsibility.”
“…I don’t know what you mean, but I’ll protect you.”
Ah, right.
No one knew that the lich’s skull was in my bag.
It made sense she didn’t understand the situation—
to her, this must look like some spell gone terribly wrong.
‘Why does this feel so unfair?’
Still, there was no time for such thoughts.
We had to fight.
No matter how many we cut down, the horde of ghouls was endless.
They kept coming, even after fatal wounds,
until they literally couldn’t move anymore.
It was a battle of pure attrition.
‘And… it’s not just soldiers.’
Beyond the rushing ghouls, I calmly surveyed the battlefield.
Armored troops. Silver-plated knights.
Knights with ornate crests.
Grand Captains leading regiments.
Guard units, death squads—each one a veteran steeped in blood.
Even spectral wraiths drifted over the field—
souls of warriors who’d died yet refused to rest.
It was carnage beyond compare.
‘Will they be alright?’
The Herter Mercenary Corps was strong, sure—
but this was a full-scale battle.
Could mere mercenaries hold their ground here?
Well, worst case, I could always break through with my key-sword and escape.
“HYAAAH!”
Suddenly, a massive gust split the battlefield in two—
not a sword slash, but a hurricane of pure cutting force.
The ghouls staggered back, thrown off balance.
“134-4B-6C complete! Come forth, Flaming Frog!”
With an unfamiliar incantation,
matured flames burst forth, incinerating the ghouls.
“Demonic Art: Forbidden Spear—five hundredfold!”
“Return to dust!”
“Uraaaagh! Die, all of you!”
It was a breathtaking sight.
Each member of the Herter Mercenary Corps
was strong enough to lead their own company elsewhere.
They fought with divine precision,
each one perfectly holding their position and cutting down enemies.
“Arma! Cover Jacard III! Pellyang, heal Shasha!”
At the center of it all,
commanding the battlefield as if viewing from above—
was Captain Oskar.
The number of ghouls began dropping rapidly.
“Bomber! Watch your blast radius!”
“Got it, Captain!”
The ghouls’ screeches dwindled.
Before long, there wasn’t a single one left near me.
“Huh.”
I blinked.
“They’d have gone toe to toe with me in my prime.”
Coming from me,
that was the highest praise imaginable for mercenaries.
Truly impressive, Herter Mercenary Corps.
“Of course, that’s all of them combined, though.”
Still, a small sigh escaped me.
The chaos had settled.
No one was seriously injured.
So I expected the recruitment test to resume,
but instead—
“After seeing you swing that sword, I’d say you already pull your own weight. My bad, kid.”
Leila muttered that before walking off.
So much for her being a stickler for rules—
she must’ve had a lot on her mind after that battle.
And that’s how I joined the Herter Mercenary Corps.
My first task?
“Grab anything that looks expensive!”
“Hell yeah!”
Loot recovery.
The Flower War had happened centuries ago—
there were no families left to return relics to.
We filled sack after sack, hauling treasure onto carts for hours.
By the last trip,
only I and one other mercenary remained.
A short-haired blond man with a boyish face,
though his body was anything but boyish—
he’d introduced himself as Brix.
“Almost done, huh? You’re Allen, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good work. Must’ve been heavy, all that metal.”
“It’s fine—it all goes back to the Corps anyway.”
“Ha, true enough. Oh right—take my wagon when you’re done here.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re a good kid.”
Brix ruffled my hair roughly.
“What kind of world is this, where a kid’s doing merc work? Damn shame.”
‘Man… this family vibe is still weird.’
I dodged away from his hand,
and he laughed.
“Alright, alright, I won’t do it! Geez, look at you—running off just ‘cause I’m a guy. Hey—huh?”
Both of us froze.
At once, we drew our swords.
“Brix… this is—”
“Over there!”
A surge of energy—immense and sinister—was rising.
Something we hadn’t sensed before.
“What the hell! Where did that come from?”
“Be careful, Brix! This feels wrong!”
Inside, I asked silently:
[How did this happen?]
[It wasn’t me! I swear, I haven’t done anything since before!]
[Then what is that?]
[Some kind of stealth technique! Must’ve been hiding its presence!]
[A ghoul…?]
[Some ghouls with strong obsessions manifest their past powers as magic!]
True, but still—
no ghoul should be capable of masking its presence that perfectly.
They were twitching corpses, not assassins.
Rumble.
From the pile of corpses, a massive man stood up—
three meters tall, clad in spotless armor.
Brix’s sword flared with mana.
“Kid, I’ll hold him off. Go get the others!”
“Brix!”
No way.
By the time I got back, he’d be dead.
Going for help was the same as asking someone to collect his remains.
“You’ll just get in the way!”
“I can’t leave you!”
Even if I ran, he’d catch me.
Better to fight together.
[That’s… the Grand General.]
The lich’s voice echoed in my head.
[What?]
[They called him the Cowardly General.]
For some reason, the lich knew that ghoul.
[A foolish nickname—but he wasn’t weak. A general among generals of the Whigarum Kingdom. The kind of man who’d abandon pride to strike the enemy’s throat.]
[How do you even know that?]
The lich was a being from over a thousand years ago.
How could he know a centuries-old ghost?
But then he spoke, almost proudly:
[I saw it. When he awakened, his memories flashed open. They’re hidden again now, but not from me.]
My bag twitched faintly.
[Nothing born of magic can hide its past from my eyes.]
[You really are a lich, huh.]
[Yes—one who has touched the root of all magic.]
Then, a warning:
[Run, boy. You can’t win this one.]
Brix was barely managing to block the General’s blows.
Each strike sent him staggering backward.
“What the hell is this swordsmanship!?”
He shouted as he swung desperately.
“Run! His swordplay—it’s weird! He keeps hitting from impossible angles!”
Only his monstrous reflexes were keeping him alive.
He was no longer fighting with technique—
just reacting, swinging wildly like a beginner.
“Brix…”
But from where I stood, I saw it clearly.
It wasn’t the General’s swordsmanship that was strange—
it was Brix himself.
“Brix, get back!”
“What—!”
A moment later, the General’s sword sent him flying dozens of meters.
A miracle he wasn’t cut in half.
“Gah!”
“Brix, fall back! You can’t handle him alone!”
“Damn it…! He’s not supposed to be this strong…”
“It’s your sword paths.”
Sword Paths.
Every strike traces a path—from your stance to your opponent.
Each style, each swing, a different route.
“Sword… paths?”
Brix’s eyes widened.
Now he understood.
It wasn’t the General’s technique that was off—
it was his own memory.
Each time he clashed blades,
the memory of that sword path was erased.
[He can’t use the same path twice.]
[Yes—he’s erasing it from their memory each time.]
Even the lich sounded uneasy.
[How is that possible? You said it was some kind of stealth magic before.]
[…This, I don’t know.]
[Maybe an ability he had in life?]
[To erase the memory of a blade’s path?]
The lich asked softly:
[A human could do that?]
Indeed—
that was no magic, no sword form, no skill.
That was sorcery—bending the laws themselves.
Step.
Despite that, I stepped forward.
The lich panicked.
[Foolish brat!]
I ignored him.
Raising my mana, I drew the General’s attention and lifted my sword.
“Come, then.”
“Uuuhhhh!”
He lunged.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
Four exchanges in an instant.
And yes—each technique I’d used vanished from my mind.
“Heeheehee…”
The General laughed hideously and kept swinging.
Clang! Clang!
One, two, three—
thirteen, twenty, fifty strikes, each one sharper than the last.
Within three minutes, we had exchanged thousands of blows.
“Haah… haah…”
“Allen!”
Brix staggered up, but I didn’t even look.
“Guooh!”
“Hup!”
KAAANG!
He wasn’t tiring.
And neither was I.
Clang!
I just needed a little more time—
—to memorize his sword.
CLANG!
Another few exchanges—
“UAAAAH!”
THAANG!
And finally,
I knocked his sword aside completely.
The General’s massive body reeled back.
“Uhh?”
He looked stunned.
Of course he did—no matter how many times he attacked,
I still moved as if I remembered every swing.
He’d wiped away thousands of sword paths—
yet I had millions more.
Crack—
His helmet’s mouth guard split, and he roared.
“GUAAAAH! Ma… ma… roa… aeeeh!”
Boom!
He struck again, with all his might—
but I blocked it cleanly.
“This… can’t be!”
He panicked, flailing wildly—
and the more he did, the more his armor shattered.
Of course it did.
I was the Mercenary King, after all.
My memory held hundreds of thousands—
no, millions—of sword paths.
A lifetime spent with nothing but the blade.
“Your speed… I’ve memorized it now!”
My sixteen-year-old body, still growing,
was finally keeping pace with his unnatural speed.
What a perfect opponent—
forcing every instinct, every technique, every sense into harmony.
“Then I’ll just—!”
SHUK!
The Cowardly General impaled himself on my sword.
Then he grabbed my head in one massive hand.
‘What is it with everyone and my damn head?’
“If that’s how it is—then I’ll tear into your MIND!”
“Oh? You sure about that?”
I smirked.
Ping.
Like a string snapping,
everything I’d ever lived through flooded into him.
“GAAAH! GHHHKK!”
He convulsed. His eyes dimmed.
Thud.
“Don’t run now. See it through.”
“Ghhkk—!”
I pressed his hand tighter to my head.
“Take a good look at the life I’ve lived.”
Cast out from the House of Prophecy.
Sold into slavery.
Clawed my way up as a mercenary.
And after all that—
I became the Mercenary King.
Only for the Demon Gate to open—
and destroy everything I’d earned.
Betrayed again by my blood.
All my comrades dead.
Nothing but blood and despair.
“GUAAAAAAHHHH!”
His scream stretched into the distance.
The lich shouted, too:
[It’s open again!]
[What is?]
[His mind—the gap in his spirit! I can see inside!]
[Oh?]
Through the lich’s link,
I peered into the General’s memories.
What was he thinking in his final moments?
‘Hm?’
I saw his past.
He was weeping—
surrounded by the corpses of his men.
—Forgive me. Brave generals… it’s my fault…
Once, he’d been called the Valiant General.
But after a crushing defeat,
he painted his armor black—
and became the Cowardly General.
A man who’d cast away pride and honor for victory.
—You can give me power?
At the end of his memory,
someone—or something—was offering him a deal.
—Power to protect my men?
WHOOSH!
My vision snapped back.
The General’s body was disintegrating.
“No…! Don’t look! No one can see this! My men… must never know!”
Thud.
He lunged, clutching my throat—
Slash!
His head flew.
Brix had done it—
a perfect draw-cut from midair, pale and bleeding.
“Haah!”
He collapsed after landing, rolling across the ground.
Rattle.
The General’s body crumbled to ash.
Something gleamed within.
I reached out—
and caught it.
“A coin?”
[A Demon Coin.]
Through our link, the lich saw it too.
[A Demon Coin?]
[Yes. Not real currency—just an ornament from the Demon Realm’s citadel. But how did a human get one? Even in my time, the Demon Realm had already vanished.]
[I see.]
I tucked it into my pocket.
Brix groaned, clutching his gut, and stood.
“Ugh… damn, thought I was a goner.”
He limped toward me, eyes wary.
“…What the hell are you?”
“Me?”
From his point of view,
he’d seen a sixteen-year-old fight an undead general to a standstill.
I needed to explain something.
‘…Guess I’ll go with that.’
I pulled something from my bag—
a brooch.
“Sorry for deceiving you. I’m… a noble from the House of Prophecy.”
A convenient half-truth.
A noble’s son trained in swordsmanship from birth—
that would explain it.
Hopefully he wouldn’t ask further.
But Brix just shook his head.
“I don’t care where you’re from or what title you have.”
“Huh?”
He sighed.
“Haah… I’m asking about your spirit. You risked your life to draw that thing’s attention. Sixteen, and already reeking of blood…”
“Oh.”
Now I understood.
He wasn’t asking who I was—
but what I was aiming to be.
Among mercenaries, this was how you introduced yourself.
No ranks, no titles—just your path.
‘I’d forgotten about that…’
So I met his gaze squarely.
This time, it wasn’t an excuse.
This was a greeting I’d never managed to make in my past life—
a declaration of who I was.
“I’m a man who wants to become the Mercenary King.”
He blinked—then grinned.
“What are you, a kid?”
But he didn’t laugh mockingly.
“Hah! What a dream, kid. I like it!”
He extended a thick, scarred hand.
The setting sun painted the sky behind him crimson.
“Welcome. From today on, you’re the youngest member of the Herter Mercenary Corps.”
And just like that,
I finally became one of them—
a true mercenary.
