"Sagitta Fulgon."
"Kill! Kill!"
With my mother's cheerful voice ringing out—declaring that he was totally scared—I swiftly swung my froststeel sword.
The blade cut through the air, meeting the neck of the man who had burst through the tent. The solid steel edge sliced cleanly through flesh and bone. His severed head tumbled to the ground.
Thunk.
Two corpses already lay collapsed, half-hanging inside the tent. Murmurs could be heard from outside.
"F-fuck! He died the moment he walked in! What the fuck!"
"What, is there a monster inside with its jaws open?!"
"I—I'm not going in! You go first!"
"Don't push me, asshole! I'm not going in either!"
They were far more disorganized than I expected. I'd been on edge, thinking that a mercenary group of this size would at least have some structure.
I tapped the broad-shouldered man—grunting while clutching the stump where his arm had been severed—and said,
"If that wound isn't treated immediately, you'll die. But if you tell me who hired you, I'll give you emergency treatment right away. If there's a skilled doctor in the village, your arm might even be reattached."
This middle-aged man was all size, with fat clinging to his frame and starting to sag. Maybe he had once been something in his prime, but now he was just another run-of-the-mill mercenary. And with a missing arm, he wasn't even that anymore.
The one I really needed to watch out for was the leader of this mercenary band, standing a short distance away.
His physique was a perfect balance between rugged and agile. Though he stood there, seemingly frozen and wide-eyed, it was clear he was ready to counter if I charged at him. The armor he wore was not just protective but thoughtfully designed—metal plating on the vital spots, without sacrificing mobility.
"S-Sagitta! What are you doing?! Help me already! I'm gonna die here! I'm dying!"
The man, who had earlier been calling me "brother," now begged pathetically for his leader. Clearly, he had no intention of answering my question.
There was another entrance on the other side. No need to keep him alive.
I swung my froststeel sword toward the fallen man's neck. A swift, painless death—that was the best mercy I could offer.
Clang!
But my blade was deflected by an incoming spearhead. A sharp follow-up attack came next—the spear slithered in like a snake, aiming for my vitals. I calmly stepped back, striking the shaft away with my sword. The spear retracted smoothly, as if it had never meant to strike.
Suddenly, the man called Sagitta had positioned himself between me and the wounded one, raising a shield on his left arm.
Clang!
A heavy impact. I held the advantage, but his spear came darting in again. I had to retreat once more.
"I thought you'd just stay still," I said.
He looked to be in his early thirties. With his tousled platinum hair and helmet lowered, Sagitta responded in a low voice.
"I wanted to. But we've been together fifteen years, whether I like it or not."
He shouted at the top of his lungs:
"Someone get in here and carry Pelgwin out! Now!"
But no one responded. No one dared enter the tent. Just nervous murmuring outside.
"S-Sagitta says go in…"
"Screw that! What if I die like the others?! I'm not going!"
"Don't push me, bastards! I don't want to go in either!"
Sagitta gritted his teeth and asked me,
"Would it be alright if I took him out of here?"
I smiled gently and drew the Butcher.
"No."
Showing mercy to a living enemy was foolish. Even more so when I was alone in enemy territory. I activated the Butcher. Its metal blades spun at high speed, screaming.
Whirrrrrrrrrrrrr!
I lunged at Sagitta, swinging the Butcher. He raised his shield with unnerving calm. A shield like that would be torn like paper by the Butcher.
GRRRRRAAAAKK!
But to my surprise, the Butcher didn't shred his shield.
Was it pure froststeel?
A simple solid froststeel shield could still be destroyed by my Butcher if I put enough power into it. But this man hadn't relied on the shield's material alone—he had redirected my force with exceptional technique.
Sparks flew violently.
Sagitta wasn't content with mere defense. As he deflected the Butcher, he thrust his spear precisely at my opening.
This man… He was clearly more skilled than I in technique. But I had the physical prowess to ignore such minor gaps.
I stepped down. Using my planted foot as a pivot, I forcibly changed the Butcher's path. A crude move, perhaps, but one powered enough to tear a person apart with ease.
WHIRRRRRRRRR!
The Butcher howled, hungry for flesh. Sagitta didn't hesitate—he let go of his spear and fell back. That unflinching decision saved him. The spinning metal teeth grazed him by a hair's breadth.
His dropped spear clattered on the floor. Sagitta ran out of the tent, flinging the flap open and shouting:
"Don't block the way! Move aside!"
I chased him out of the tent. Around us, mercenaries had the place surrounded. I needed to assert dominance—fast.
And the Butcher was perfect for the job.
"Stand down! Now!"
Ignoring Sagitta's desperate cry, I swung the Butcher at the nearest mercenary. The spinning blade tore the stunned man diagonally apart.
Organs and flesh flew. Blood poured. The snow beneath turned red.
But I wasn't done. Before the others could even scream, I charged into their ranks. If there were any archers, they wouldn't dare shoot now.
WHIRRRRRRRRRR!
The Butcher screamed with glee as it feasted. The mercenaries were more of a mess than I'd expected.
Watching their comrades get shredded, none of them tried to counterattack. They panicked and fled.
"F-fuck! Move! Get out of the way!"
"I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die, goddammit!"
Like a wolf in a pen of sheep, I tore apart everything I touched. My white cleric's robe was once again soaked in blood and flesh.
"Get out of the way!"
The spearhead aimed for my side and pierced in. It was Sagitta. I blocked the spear by grabbing the upper half of a mercenary I had just cut down. The spear lodged itself in the corpse's body. Letting go of the corpse, I swung the Butcher.
The Butcher ground through the corpse and the spear shaft alike and once again surged forward to swallow Sagitta whole.
He discarded his spear again. I genuinely admired the way he treated his weapons as mere consumables, skillfully using his body to stay alive.
It's been a while since I fought someone this skilled.
Sagitta, rolling on the ground, picked up a new spear from among the corpses and shouted:
"Felguin is inside my tent! Grab him while I take care of this priest! You bastards!"
Clang!
His thrown spearhead struck the Butcher squarely in the side. This time, I didn't bother to twist the Butcher's trajectory. Instead, I charged at Sagitta and threw a punch with my left fist. Aimed at his jaw, the punch was blocked when he saw its trajectory and raised his shoulder, reinforced with iron plating.
Crash!
The metal plate crumpled under my punch, sending Sagitta flying through the air and crashing into the snowy ground. I raised the Butcher once more. Sagitta, lying on the ground, quickly sprang up and shouted:
"Fire!"
'Murder!!!'
A sharp warning from Mother. Was there really an archer? It'd be a huge problem if an arrow hit a joint.
Because Sagitta and I had gone wild, there was no one else standing near me. Which meant I was now a perfect target.
But no arrows came.
'Murder…?'
In the stillness, I heard Mother's voice, unusually confused. Sagitta's face turned red with rage, teeth clenched.
"You goddamned sons of bitches! Seriously?!"
He had been abandoned.
The mercenaries who had surrounded me were already long gone, having taken whatever valuables they could carry. The archers likely ran off with them too.
I shut down the Butcher and smiled faintly.
"Would you like to continue?"
Sagitta silently stared at me, then threw away the spear in his hand and let out a deep sigh.
"I surrender. I'll tell you everything, just spare my life."
As I happened to need someone to explain the situation, I accepted Sagitta's surrender. As soon as I did, he showed no intention of resisting and walked straight back to his tent.
He checked on the big guy whose arm I had cut off and said in a somber voice:
"He's already dead."
Standing a little apart, I asked:
"Have you changed your mind?"
Sagitta closed the corpse's eyes and shook his head.
"No. I always wanted to catch him and beat him to death myself, but now that he's actually dead, it feels... strange. Do you mind if I bury Felguin?"
"I don't mind if you bury him, but I'd appreciate it if you answered my questions first."
"Of course."
He slowly began to speak, laying out everything. The only useful piece of information I gained was that the organization chasing Dacia was called 'Illech'.
Whether Illech wanted Dacia for themselves or someone else had hired them—I couldn't tell. This mercenary band had only subcontracted a job from Illech anyway.
Having confessed everything, Sagitta began to dig graves for the dead mercenaries, burying them one by one himself. I picked up a shovel and helped.
"You don't need to help."
I smiled and replied:
"It'll go faster if we work together."
Murmuring 'Together...', Sagitta went back to silently shoveling. Once the cleanup was done and he had packed up his belongings, he turned to me.
"May I go now?"
Honestly, I debated whether it would be better to kill him after getting all the info, but seeing him do the cleanup alone helped me make up my mind.
"Don't you hate me?"
Sagitta looked at my face and chuckled softly.
"If I say I do, will you kill me?"
I smiled.
"Is there any point in letting someone live who hates me?"
"You have a point."
He seemed like he wanted to say something, but swallowed his words several times. I waited silently for his reply. Finally, the abandoned mercenary leader opened his mouth.
"I'm not good with words, so this might be hard to explain. But being a mercenary means killing and dying. So, when things go wrong, you might find yourself working alongside people who smashed your comrade's head in just the day before. Of course, I'm not so heartless that I'd get chummy with them, but I don't rush in to kill them on sight either."
Running his hands through his shaggy hair, he gave a sorrowful smile.
"So no, I don't hate you. I just feel a bit lonely that things turned out this way. And besides, this mercenary band was on its way out anyway."
"What are you going to do now?"
"I don't know. It's been fifteen years since I've been on my own. The future looks pretty bleak. But since the only thing I know how to do is fight, I'll probably end up back in the mercenary trade."
"Then how about using this opportunity to find a new employer who pays well?"
"Huh?"
He looked back at me, startled, and—uncharacteristically—seemed rather innocent.
'Murder!'
Following Mother's reminder not to forget to harvest the bodies, I told Sagitta I'd say a prayer for the dead and harvested the divinity.
[Divinity: 2023]
When I opened the door to the inn, I saw Dacia half-asleep, chewing slowly on her food. It was a bit late for breakfast, and with no sign of Carmen, it seemed Carmen had eaten earlier and Dacia was now having hers alone.
She was chewing on some bread absentmindedly, then looked up and widened her eyes in shock.
Which made sense—my priest robes had returned to a pristine white thanks to the Blessing of Maintenance, but my face and hair were still caked in blood and bits of flesh.
"Bwuh—!"
She tried to shout something, but choked on her bread and coughed for a while. After gulping down some water, she finally managed to speak.
"Wh-what in the world did you do to come back with your face and hair covered in blood?!"
"Would it be alright if I explained after washing up? It's all mostly taken care of now."
She stared at my face, then nodded.
"Sure... But who's that behind you...?"
I pointed to Sagitta, who was standing behind me awkwardly like a cat in someone else's house, and smiled.
"Milady, would you happen to be in the market for a mercenary who can handle himself in a fight?"