Wandering Mercenary in an Open World

Chapter 8:

Chapter 8:

The symbol was a bizarre shape featuring multiple intertwined hands. Ruon speculated that it was the work of a demon worshiper.

An ominous symbol on the forehead of a monk who served Tibella. It was hard to think of any other possibilities besides demons.

That’s when it happened.

“Step back, fearless warrior. There is none of the glory you seek in this place.”

The detached head began to chatter.

Although it was impossible to understand how sound could come out of a severed neck, Ruon thought it must be magic and replied.

“Where are the others who were here?”

“No one who came here survived.”

“Oh? Then you must die too.”

In response to Ruon’s unwavering answer, the corpse fell silent for a moment before speaking again.

“Warrior, I sense no holiness in you. Why would you, who is not even a champion of Tibella, want vengeance?”

What was he saying?

“It seems you’re mistaken. I didn’t come here for revenge. It’s just a personal matter. Of course, I’ll make money when it’s done.”

“So you’re just a lowly mercenary?”

Ruon smirked.

“It seems the dead have a lot to say on the subject. Wait and see. I’ll slit your throat soon enough.”

Ignoring the head that moved its lips, Ruon continued down the stairs leading underground.

In this situation, it’s likely that whatever was behind all of this would be hiding underground.

As Ruon descended the staircase, he saw a half-open, rusty iron door.

Wouldn’t the bereaved nuns and monks have come rushing in? That was the expectation, but there was nothing behind the iron door. Instead, a familiar yet unpleasant smell pierced his nostrils. The smell of blood, intensely strong.

Passing through the damp, cold, blood-scented corridor, another side door confronted Ruon. The signboard hanging on the door read ‘Prayer Room’. He kicked the door without hesitation.

Bang!

As the door swung wide open, Ruon unintentionally muttered a word at the sight before him.

“Crazy.”

Underneath the statue of a woman that resembled Tibella, bodies were piled up, seemingly more than twenty. The man standing on the altar, soaked in blood flowing from their bodies, slowly turned his head.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

Rather than answer, Ruon decided to shoot an arrow at the man’s forehead.

After grabbing the bow hanging on his back and fixing it on his thigh, he took out an arrow from the quiver and aimed it at the man. The entire process was completed in the time it takes to take a breath.

The lightning-fast attack couldn’t be avoided. 

A translucent blue barrier shimmered in front of the man’s face. The arrow remained stuck in the barrier, failing to pierce through. Even so, the man widened his eyes in astonishment as if it was a surprising development.

“You’re a fearsome warrior. I’ve never seen someone shoot a bow so quickly.”

Sensing genuine admiration rather than deceit in the man’s compliment, Ruon furrowed his brows. Wasn’t he called a lowly mercenary just a moment ago? Is he a fickle bastard?

“Warrior, I’m curious about your name.”

Despite being taken by surprise, the man’s voice was gentle. Thus, Ruon answered without realizing it.

“…Ruon.”

The man scratched his chin.

“It doesn’t sound familiar. Is it from a border region? The North? No, it lacks the rough feeling for that…”

The man didn’t know that the name “Ruon” was derived from his nickname at the time of creating the character, “Ruin on”.

The man spoke.

“Well, what does it matter? Nice to meet you, Ruon. I am Salvetor.”

“I’m not particularly interested in the name of someone who’s about to die.”

Salvetor raised an eyebrow.

“You’re going to kill me? Can I ask for the reason?”

“You don’t know?”

As Ruon flicked his head towards the mountain of corpses, Salvetor smiled brightly.

“Spectacular, isn’t it, to die in the ugliest way possible in the most reverent of places. At least they died at the feet of the one they call their mother, so they have no regrets.”

“What verbose nonsense. So, you’re a minion of demons?”

Salvetor grimaced, seeming displeased.

“Ruon, that cheap mouth of yours doesn’t suit your exceptional abilities. It’s hard to think of you as a lowly mercenary. A blind man with no eye for art, even when faced with a masterpiece… I am not a minion of demons, but a hand that follows the deceitful darkness.”

“So there you have it,” Ruon replied.

“Such an uninteresting testament.”

As Ruon finished speaking, he drew his sword and slammed it into the ground, creating an intimidating noise. Approaching Salvetor under the pretext of conversation, he already had the upper hand.

His sword clashed with Salvetor’s barrier. Until then, Salvetor had a relaxed expression on his face, but when his barrier wavered visibly, he hastily stepped back and gritted his teeth.

A burst of light erupted from his fingertips, sweeping the spot where Ruon stood. However, Ruon, who evaded the attack by closing the distance, brought his sword down like a hammer, causing the barrier to crack.

Now too close to swing his sword, Ruon turned his waist and shoulders, delivering a punch. Just before the fist, which had broken through the barrier, reached Salvetor’s head, Salvetor completed his incantation.

Bang!

Pushed back by an unseen force, Ruon was sent flying. But it was Salvetor’s screams that erupted.

“Argh! You… you!”

Salvetor clutched his right eye in agony. In the midst of flying away, Ruon had extended his finger and ripped out one of Salvetor’s eyes.

“For the sake of becoming the vessel of the Great One! You despicable mercenary bastard! Today, I’ll tear your limbs apart.”

He made a lot of noise after pretending to be calm just a moment ago. Ruon stood up. His lower back ached from hitting the wall, unable to land properly. He spoke.

“Don’t whine just because you lost one eye.”

“Shut up! You will die an excruciating death!”

Salvetor began to shout incomprehensible words and his forehead twitched and melted, revealing a jumble of intertwined symbols featuring multiple hands. But that wasn’t all. Salvetor clenched a black whip that appeared in the air and swung it with all his might.

Ruon leaped away as the whip struck the space where he had been standing, instantly corroding the ground.

Salvetor quickly pulled back the whip and, at the same time, created flames with his other hand, hurling them towards Ruon.

Once again, Ruon easily evaded the attack, but the fiery flames, drawing a crimson arc, changed direction and exploded in mid-air.

Emerging from the scorching heat, Ruon rolled on the ground, brushing off the flames that clung to his body. He slowly got up, but his condition was far from good. His head was a mess, and his scorched face was grotesquely disfigured.

Salvetor laughed disdainfully.

“You look pitiful, rolling on the ground!”

“Oh, really? You with your missing eye seems far more pitiful.”

Salvetor’s face turned red at the calm response.

“You… will… die!”

The whip flew towards Ruon once again. Worried that his sword would be corroded, Ruon used his right foot as an axis and rotated to evade the attack. In the meantime, two guided flames approached.

Watching the flames fill his field of vision, Ruon felt a sense of danger he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Amidst the overwhelming sensation that threatened to shatter his composure, he, now a fully-fledged warrior in a fantasy world, gripped his sword tightly.

‘Yes, this is what I should do to a minion of the devil.’

With explosive momentum, Ruon leaped forward, feeling the scorching heat passing under his feet, and rotated his body. His sword, harnessing his superhuman strength and speed, struck the disfigured barrier.

Crack!

With a loud noise, the barrier completely shattered. In an instant, Salvetor saw a sharp sword pierce through the remains of the barrier and swiftly tear through his muscles, piercing his heart.

In the midst of it all, he attempted to recite a spell, but Ruon’s hand quickly grabbed his throat.

“Kyaak!”

Salvetor mustered all his strength, flicking his whip just before Ruon’s strong grip snapped Salvetor’s neck.

The whip struck Ruon’s back, and at the same time, a dull thud echoed as Salvetor’s body collapsed.

Ruon hastily removed his armor. Looking at the armor, which had been completely burned and torn apart, he clicked his tongue.

“You crazy bastard. I hope you’re happy with this mess.”

It wasn’t just the armor that was damaged. The blade of his sword, which had been used to break the barrier, was significantly dented and looked difficult to repair.

Ruon began searching through Salvetor’s dead body, hoping to find something of value to compensate for the damage to his sword and armor.

As a result, he found a skull-adorned dagger with a grand design, three elegant pieces of parchment, and a palm-sized stone tablet.

He couldn’t even guess what the stone tablet was used for, but the skull dagger looked like a decent item. However, it emitted an ominous aura, so he decided not to use it immediately and instead fastened it to his waist.

He hesitated to unfold the pieces of parchment recklessly, fearing what chaos might ensue, so he decided to keep them in his arms. Noticing one of the curled up scrolls wasn’t sealed in any special way, he unfolded it.

His eyes caught the tightly written and elegant handwriting. It was Salvetor’s own personal memoir, written by himself. He was quite a narcissistic person.

Salvetor, born as a farmer’s child, felt disillusioned with life and ran away. Through a fortunate opportunity, he was recognized for his magical talent and entered the Tower of Magi to dedicate himself to studies. He grew up as a promising mage of the tower but was unsatisfied and murdered his peers before making a contract with a demon. In his pursuit of greater power, he decided to corrupt the ancient altar of a deity and infiltrated the monastery of Tibella, which was largely in the middle of nowhere.

That was the gist of it. Details regarding the aftermath were not written, but Ruon could easily infer the content.

It was clear that Salvetor had killed those who came to the monastery posing as a mage from the Tower of Magi and sought to gain power from the demon by committing acts that offended the gods.

Belatedly, Ruon noticed that the floor, covered in the blood of the victims, was covered in mysterious symbols.

“This guy was even worse than I thought.” 

Ruon kicked Salvetor’s corpse with all his strength and wiped away the symbols drawn on the floor with his foot. Then, he turned his gaze to the pile of bodies and carefully laid them on the ground one by one.

It was his final consideration for the people of the village. The sight of a heap of corpses would be too much for ordinary people to bear.

“I’ve done what I could.”

Having finished tidying up, Ruon stood up and brushed off his hands, but at that moment, a bright light burst forth in front of him.

Instinctively, Ruon distanced himself and drew his sword, but the beam of light began to seep into the skull-shaped dagger. The light was pouring out of the statue of Tibella.

Spouting dissipating black smoke, the skull dagger gradually began to change. It elongated enough to be considered a longsword, and the skull decoration at the end of the handle turned into a polished silver stag, sparkling like a gem.

With the mysterious transformation, Ruon opened his eyes wide.

Before him was a completely formed longsword, exuding a vibrant presence. Ruon raised his head, and the statue of Tibella was looking down at him.

“Did you give me this?”

There was no response, yet Ruon added emptily.

“Do you know why I came to this world?”

Still no answer came. Ruon smiled bitterly and gripped the handle of the new sword.

Whether it was a reward for eliminating the presence that had tarnished his monastery or not, it was clear that Tibella had personally bestowed this blessed sword upon him.

Looking at the statue, which still had a faint glow, Ruon spoke.

“Whatever the case, I will use it well.”

The experience points gained from killing Salvetor and the items obtained as a result were satisfying. He had finally taken a meaningful step.

After quickly checking his physical condition, Ruon left the monastery and walked towards the village. The sun was slowly setting.