Chapter 36

Following the Nameless, Ricard and Boribori arrived in a small city called Magdestadt. Though modest in size, it had a long history. Many of its buildings had been constructed ages ago, yet the inhabitants still made good everyday use of these historical relics. An air of antiquity came naturally to the city.

But in contrast to the city's old-world beauty, its people's faces were etched with worry. Making a living was apparently just as difficult here. A scrawny dog wandered about with its nose to the street, then lifted its head to look at Ricard, perhaps catching the scent of food in his pack. Its feeble wagging was heartbreaking. Still, they could hardly feed a dog when even people were starving.

Ricard and Boribori had another serious problem, however: this city belonged to the Brabant Adventurers' Guild's territory. All adventurers' guilds were fundamentally competitors, and competition between guilds whose territories overlapped was particularly bloody. Considering their vicious clash with the Rubens Guild, this was not a safe place for the two of them.

Yet the Nameless was heading straight for the Brabant Adventurers' Guild's branch. Naturally, plenty of armed adventurers stood around the building. Ricard was not particularly frightened, but the thought of having to conceal his identity made him uneasy. Well, it wasn't as though he had Beringen Adventurers' Guild Academy Student written across his forehead. He figured they would be fine if they kept quiet.

But when the Nameless entered the building and Ricard and Boribori tried to follow, someone blocked their way.

"Who are you two?"

The man looked them over. They looked young but were carrying weapons, which evidently struck him as odd.

"Uh... the man who just went inside is our dad. Right, big brother?"

Boribori lied so nonchalantly that Ricard turned to stare at him wide-eyed. Big brother? Boribori was two years older than him. Of course, they looked much the same age, so it hardly mattered.

The man blocking their way tilted his head, looking as though something did not quite add up, but concluded that the youngsters were carrying weapons to help their father. He quietly stepped aside. And so Ricard and Boribori walked fearlessly into what could well be called the heart of enemy territory.

The Nameless had placed two heads on a table and was collecting payment. Apart from his revenge, he apparently made his living off bounties. An adventurer took out the heads and checked their faces and distinguishing features, then hurriedly cleared away the gruesome objects and presented a sheet of paper that looked like a receipt. Ricard and Boribori drew up beside him to watch. Sure enough, the Nameless signed with an X.

Even after seeing that, the adventurer failed to recognize him at all. Perhaps he simply could not imagine X the Nameless, one of the Nine Swords of the Empire, appearing in the midst of his peaceful daily routine. Most people were illiterate and signed by making a dot, drawing a circle, or marking an X, after all. It was hardly unique to the Nameless. Besides, this was not an age with news media. You could hear someone's name until you were sick of it and still fail to recognize them standing right in front of you.

"Want some of it in gold? Or a mix of silver and copper?"

Gold coins were high denominations and saw little practical use outside major transactions by merchant companies. On the other hand, the equivalent in silver or copper would weigh quite a bit, hence the question.

But the Nameless gave no answer. Wearing his distinctive helmet that covered his entire head, he merely stared at the adventurer.

"..."

"Instead of money, we'd like some medical supplies, travel rations, a whetstone, flint, firewood, things like that."

Ricard spoke from beside the Nameless. The adventurer gave him a look that said, Who's this kid now? and glanced between them. When the Nameless said nothing, he simply nodded.

"You know food's worth its weight in gold in winter, right?"

"I'm sure you'll give us a fair deal. If you want to keep doing good business with us, that is."

The adventurer chuckled at Ricard's boldness, then wrapped up good-quality ham, cheese, jerky, dry rations, liquor, and other provisions in paper. Being an adventurers' guild, they generally kept travel supplies well stocked. Seeing Ricard accept goods in place of money, the Nameless strode over to a wall and scanned the wanted posters haphazardly pinned there. Then he pulled one down without asking.

"Hey! You can't just take those—"

"Keep the change."

Ricard spoke as though that paid for it, then hurried after the Nameless as he left the building.

Having reached a city, the Nameless might reasonably have stopped at an inn for a hot bath and a comfortable rest. Instead, he left at once, as though the thought had never even occurred to him. As though time were too precious. Or as though he had little of it left to live. Never betraying to anyone the pain and discomfort of his wounded body, the tiger walked on for vengeance alone. Ricard and Boribori followed, closer to him now than before.

"Come to think of it, he hasn't eaten anything since yesterday, has he?"

Boribori asked Ricard, who nodded. Boribori took some of their newly acquired food from his pack and carried it over to the Nameless.

"Um... excuse me. I don't think you've eaten anything since yesterday..."

The Nameless reached out, seized a chunk of meat, and shoved it beneath the cloth covering his lower face, chewing ravenously. It had to be terribly salty. But he washed down the salt with great gulps of strong liquor. Draining the bottle in one go, he flung it away.

"... You can eat a little slower..."

He ate so much, so quickly, that it seemed it might make him ill. Seeing him accept the food without protest, Ricard approached to speak to him as well.

"Excuse me, who's your next target? Is it the person on that wanted poster?"

The Nameless glanced at Ricard, then turned away and ignored him. Did he not trust them? Or was it simply easier to handle things alone? Since he could not speak, there was no way to know.

Not long after they left the city, people began following them. They stayed just at the edge of sight. It was impossible to tell whether they merely happened to be traveling the same road or had some other motive. But Ricard noticed at once: these people had been following them ever since they collected the bounty at the guild. He recognized their appearances from a passing glimpse. This was why it was better to spend at least a night in a city before leaving.

Visiting an adventurers' guild branch and immediately leaving town was tantamount to announcing that you had just come into a large sum of money. Their pursuers seemed to be waiting for an opening like hungry wolves. The farther they walked, the more blatant those intentions became. They were after either money or food.

Then the Nameless suddenly gave Ricard a slight push. He pointed in one direction and waved him away. Only then did Ricard understand. Ah, he was worried about them. Smiling faintly, Ricard tapped the sword slung over his shoulder and said,

"We're not that ignorant of the world. We didn't just set out fearlessly because we had weapons. I told you, didn't I? We're going to kill Reto the Experimenter and Erze the Skin Collector."

"..."

The Nameless merely gazed down at him. Just then, their pursuers came walking toward them from ahead, apparently having circled around by another route. There were more than ten. None was as heavily equipped as the Nameless, but they carried ordinary spears, hooked spears, swords, and clubs. They were not adventurers; their equipment was too crude for that. Still, they were a cut above neighborhood thugs.

Rather than a band of professional fighters, they seemed like people who occasionally robbed travelers without making banditry their sole livelihood. In other words, they were no professional robbers or bandits, but looked as though they had done this sort of thing before. Keeping some distance, they shouted at the three of them.

"Hey! Put down your weapons and we'll let you live! You can count, can't you? There are three of you! And fifteen of us!"

There was no greater nonsense in the world than a robber's promise to spare you if you put down your weapons. The Nameless looked quietly at Ricard and Boribori, then turned his gaze toward the men. He drew a throwing axe from the belt across his chest and, without a word of warning, simply hurled it.

WHIRR!

The heavy axe flew with a frightening sound. It was fast and accurate. The Nameless fought with strength and precision rather than elaborate technique. The distance was a little too great, however, and the man in front startled so badly that he fell on his backside, luckily avoiding it.

"Eek!"

WHIRR! CRUNCH!

But he could not evade the second axe. It buried itself in his head, snapping it backward. Taking the rope from his waist, the Nameless advanced toward his enemies, whirling it in circles. A hook hung from its end. Only then did the men level their weapons.

"Tony!"

"You fucking bastard! You want a fight, huh?"

The Nameless flung the rope at the man who wanted a fight. He awkwardly raised his spear and blocked it, but this was not a weapon you could block. He should have dodged. The middle of the rope caught on the spear shaft, only to swing around it and coil about his neck. The hook sank into his collarbone.

"Aaargh!"

Such was the Nameless's strength that he dragged a full-grown man toward him. Only when matters had reached this point did the armed men charge.

"Fuck! Get them!"

"Bastards!"

How simply going about their business had made them bastards was anyone's guess, but this was a fight for survival, so there was little point taking offense. The Nameless drew his battle-axe and split open the skull of the man he had dragged over. As he turned to face those rushing in behind, someone shouted,

"Go for the kids!"

Only then did Ricard unsling his sword and draw it from its scabbard. The subtly rippled blade gleamed beneath the cold winter sun. He walked calmly forward through the snow, then darted right and cut deeply through the waist of an enemy who could not even judge his reach, bringing him down. Immediately slipping left, Ricard reversed his swing and cut down the next man. He never retreated a single step, advancing instead. Wherever hot blood splashed onto the cold snow, it melted holes precisely its own size.

The next enemy lunged with a spear. Ricard simply twisted aside, pushing the shaft away with his sword. Then he rammed his shoulder into the man's chest and slashed down at the falling enemy, splitting his head.

CRUNCH!

Another opponent seized that opening to thrust a sword at Ricard from his left. Ricard twisted away from its tip, but they collided. Yet at some point he had drawn his dagger. With it in his left hand, he sliced diagonally upward across the man's abdomen. Entrails spilled out. Ricard hastily stepped back, as though afraid of getting them on his clothes.

While Ricard dispatched four men in an instant, another enemy charged Boribori. Boribori had drawn his sidesword and stood in a natural stance, holding it in one hand, his head bowed as he muttered to himself. Then, just as the enemy's hatchet reached him, he lifted his head and swung.

SWISH! SWISH! SWISH!

CRUNCH. THUD.

Two objects could be heard falling into the snow. The enemy was certain he had landed a solid blow on Boribori, but he had not. Both his hands were gone at the wrists. Blood sprayed from the stumps, spattering Boribori. The severed hands already lay in the snow, and a dark afterimage flickered before the man's eyes.

"Huh...?"

Before he could register the fatal consequences, before even the pain could sink in, he seemed unable to grasp what had happened. No wonder, when both his hands had vanished in the blink of an eye. But Boribori's swift sword did not stop tracing its strokes. Finally, it swept in a perfectly horizontal line, and the man's head dropped off. Including the arms and legs, it looked as though the body scattered across the snow lay in more than five pieces. It was a truly gruesome sight.

Having largely finished off his enemies in the meantime, Ricard crunched over through the snow. He gazed at the body parts strewn before Boribori, then spoke.

"I think that was a bit much."

To Ricard, who favored short, concise movements and finishing things with a single stroke, Boribori had definitely gone a little overboard.

"But I have to write the character..."

"True enough. Anyway, you did well for your first time."

"Hehehe."

As Boribori smiled bashfully, the Nameless came crunching toward them. On his way, he glanced over the corpses Ricard had left behind. Reaching the two boys, he gazed down at the body Boribori had chopped up a little too thoroughly. Ricard addressed him.

"Well? We're a bit more useful than you thought, aren't we?"

The Nameless seemed to consider this for a moment. Then, at last, he expressed something aloud.

"Hmm."