Chapter 11 : The Life of a Warrior (9)
Chapter 11: The Life of a Warrior (9)
The strike that seemed like it would split Hindir’s head at any moment instead slashed through empty air in vain.
Hindir, who had dodged it by the width of a sheet of paper, clenched his fist.
However, Bel was clearly different from his subordinates.
He twisted his wrist and redirected the flow of his sword horizontally to block the path of Hindir’s extending fist.
It seemed like a minor move, but it was a swift response that only someone highly trained could execute.
Sshwek—
Hindir brushed away the incoming blade, which looked as though it would slice his waist, as if swatting away a fly.
Bel, who had already seen Hindir block a sword with his bare hand, had anticipated such a reaction.
Ttaang—!
But when his hand stung from the stronger-than-expected shock, Bel was inwardly startled.
It wasn’t because of the impact.
‘There’s almost no trace of mana at all!’
He had found it odd when his subordinates were being slaughtered, but now that he was facing him directly, he was sure.
This level of skill was being displayed using nothing but pure physical ability.
Even against a sword imbued with mana!
Naturally, it was something a mana user could not accept—and it wounded his pride.
‘I don’t know what kind of trick you’re pulling, but I’ll crush that arrogance!’
Taking the momentary distance between them, Bel held his breath and stimulated his lower dantian.
The mana he clawed out gathered into his sword and shimmered like a blue mirage—this was sword aura.
However, at his level, he couldn’t maintain this state for long, so he had to end the fight as quickly as possible.
Of course, he naturally believed that he could.
“So, you're from Trinity.”
“…What?”
But when Hindir suddenly spoke, Bel’s momentum faltered for a moment.
“What did you just say?”
“I kept getting a familiar feeling from you. Does the Trinity Academy still exist?”
“What nonsense are you spouting?!”
The moment he heard the word ‘Trinity,’ Bel became more agitated than necessary, which left Hindir rather puzzled.
“You… You approached us knowingly.”
Bel muttered as if he had come to a realization.
“Snowy King? What a joke. You were targeting us from the start. Where are you from? Who sent you?”
Hindir let out a hollow laugh.
“Why do people who look at me all say the same thing? Just how much wrong have you done that you think everyone’s come to capture you?”
“Don’t make me laugh!”
Bel suddenly shouted and charged forward, scattering faint sword aura as he did.
“If you won’t talk, I’ll make you talk!”
His sword, clearly faster now, left behind blue trails as it launched into a frenzy of slashes, and Hindir charged straight into the midst of it.
It looked as though his entire body would be shredded, but Bel, who was executing the sword technique, realized too late.
With emotions momentarily heightened, he had swung wildly—and Hindir had precisely exploited that opening.
Jjaengrang—!
With the sound of a sword breaking, Bel was flung backward, spraying blood.
But then he saw Hindir’s face approaching even faster than his own flight, and his mind was overtaken by fear.
“Wai—”
Kwaang!
Bel’s body, struck directly in the jaw mid-air, slammed into the ground.
Hindir grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and swung him the opposite way, slamming him into the ground again.
Kwaaaang—!
With a thunderous boom that echoed through Snow Dragon Valley, dust exploded in all directions.
The remaining subordinates instinctively took a step back and closed their eyes, but the moment they reopened them, they realized that was a huge mistake.
No—though, even if they hadn’t closed them, the result would’ve been the same.
Before the remaining ones could react, Hindir had taken care of them all in a flash.
In the middle of a land soaked completely in red, Hindir, holding his liquor bottle, didn’t spare even a glance at the dead as he began walking back the way he had come.
Hindir calmly walked through the Great Snowfields, where the only thing illuminating the world was the moonlight.
The liquor bottle had been empty for quite some time, but he tilted it out of habit.
“……”
Then his steps stopped.
At the end of his gaze lay a broken sled and liquor crates scattered chaotically.
And the smell of blood.
Hindir approached and examined the corpses.
A few dogs and one man.
Since it was someone he recognized, he felt a faint sense of regret—but also a sense of relief.
“You’ve got quite the luck.”
He didn’t know what had happened here, but Duar wasn’t among them.
Judging from the lack of any other blood trails nearby, it seemed Duar hadn’t been on this sled in the first place.
‘Then it’s fine.’
Hindir gathered a few scattered liquor bottles and attached them to his belt.
Then he found a flint in the dead man’s coat, gathered all the corpses, and burned them along with the sled’s fragments.
"This is how cruel the world you've set foot in is. Whether you knew it or not, it's already happened. In any case, I hope you find peace—at least in that place."
Only after sitting down and watching until everything was completely burned did Hindir finally leave.
His next destination was Choranchai.
Ubol came to his senses the next day, around midday when the sun was high in the sky.
"Ugh—ugh!"
Startling up with a scream, he frowned at the nauseating stench that stung his nose.
"Sniff sniff… what the hell? Ugh!"
Then he realized he had been lying face-first in a puddle of vomit and immediately started dry-heaving again.
"Son of a… what the hell even…"
Only then did the memories of the previous day start to return, bit by bit.
A red bear was asking for liquor…
"A bear?"
Barely managing to piece together his hazy thoughts, he recalled that it had actually been a man.
"Hey! Outside!"
When Ubol shouted irritably, a subordinate appeared quickly.
"Did you call for me?"
"That bastard from yesterday."
"Sorry?"
"That bear-like bastard! Where is he?"
"Uh… he went out last night and hasn’t returned yet."
"What? You just let him go…"
But something about the subordinate’s response sounded off.
"Did he say he’d be coming back?"
"Ah, no, he didn’t."
"Speak properly. So where did he go?"
"Uh… toward Choranchai, I think—but there’s something odd."
The subordinate then explained the fight that had broken out the night before.
When they returned to Choranchai, they heard screams and loud crashes in the distance, realizing a fight had broken out, but only checked the scene after sunrise.
"You idiots just stayed holed up while a fight broke out in front of the house?"
"Th-the sounds were too terrifying…"
"So you're saying that bear-looking guy killed them all? Who were the dead ones?"
"I don’t know. Judging by their clothes, they seemed to be of high status."
"Useless bastards. Lead the way!"
Just who was that guy who showed up yesterday, and who were the ones chasing and fighting him?
"This is insane."
While surveying the scene, Ubol clicked his tongue at the corpses missing their heads entirely.
"Brutal bastard. Looks like he had his fun."
Ubol couldn’t believe someone could crush a skull with a single punch, so he assumed Hindir had incapacitated them and then smashed their heads afterward.
Of course, even that left some questions unanswered…
"Why are there no other wounds?"
"I don't know either."
"Not a single person saw the fight properly?"
"It was too dark…"
"Useless…"
Then Ubol suddenly stopped mid-sentence, his eyes fixed on one corpse.
It wasn’t normal either, but the face was at least recognizable.
"General Bel?"
Only then did he realize who that guy had fought yesterday—and who he had killed.
"…Shit."
"Sorry?"
"We're screwed now."
"What do you mean all of a sudden?"
"You idiot! General Bel, one of the Three Generals, is dead!"
He had no idea why the man showed up here, but what mattered was that he died right in front of Choranchai.
To make matters worse, Ubol had never gotten along with the generals, and his demotion had a lot to do with them—what would headquarters think if word got out that Bel died here?
Surely, someone with a brain at HQ would know.
That there’s no way he could’ve killed Bel with his own power.
But would the other two generals see it that way?
He was convinced that bear-looking bastard knew and ran off on purpose.
‘Damn it… what the hell is going on?’
He had no clue how to manage or respond to this situation.
For now, he figured capturing the bastard responsible might give him a lead—but even that posed a problem.
‘Even if I pursue him, he wiped out General Bel and all his men on his own… can I even take him?’
After a brief internal struggle, Ubol finally made a decision.
The odds weren’t zero.
Because he had a secret weapon no one else knew about.
"Where did that bastard go?"
"Who?"
"That bear!"
"Uh… excuse me."
"Excuse you what…"
Turning his head in the direction the subordinate pointed, Ubol saw a red bear strolling leisurely across the snowy plain.
"That damn…"
He immediately drew his blade and charged toward Hindir.
"You're awake?"
But the voice greeting him lacked the slightest tension, snapping Ubol's senses to attention.
Even though there was still quite a distance between them, the calm voice reached him clearly.
Ubol’s head turned cold.
Of course, his mouth still ran.
"What the hell have you been doing, you bastard? Who the hell are all those dead people back there?!"
"He called himself a general of the Snowy King's Army."
"You did all that knowing that? Are you insane? Because of you, we’re all gonna die!"
As Ubol ranted, Hindir shook his head.
"You're mistaken. If not for me, you’d all have died yesterday."
"Don’t give me that cra—"
"Those bastards wiped out Choranchai yesterday."
"What?"
"I was returning from there. Not a single one survived."
"…Why would one of the Three Generals wipe out Choranchai?"
"I don’t know. He didn’t seem interested in talking. He looked pissed and just killed everyone he saw…"
Hindir paused for a moment and looked at Ubol meaningfully.
"And what about you? Are you going to repeat the same mistake as those dead men?"
"……"
Ubol was at a loss for words.
He wasn’t stupid enough to miss that this was a warning.
"You said headquarters sent you here. So you must have some sense of what’s going on. What do you think? You think those guys would’ve spared Choranchai—or even your life?"
"……"
He couldn’t answer right away, but his head was already filled with the clear answer: no.
Even in silence, Hindir took it as an answer and nodded.
"Then let me ask. Will you help me?"
After a brief moment of closing his eyes, Ubol opened them again.
"Let’s talk over a drink."
"Sounds good."
Ubol sat across from Hindir again.
The mess from yesterday’s chaos hadn’t been cleaned up, but neither of them cared.
"Before we start talking, let me ask something. That pelt—was it really from a Blood Bear?"
"I don’t know what a Blood Bear is. But it definitely wasn’t an ordinary bear."
"Why talk like that? It’s simple—either it is or it isn’t."
"Nobody believes it."
"Ah…"
Ubol nodded, quickly understanding.
After all, he’d asked because he also doubted it was truly a Blood Bear.
"Anyway, that’s not what matters. Yesterday, you said you were heading to the Snowy King’s main camp. Why are you going there?"
"To fight the Snowy King."
"…Why?"
"I want to see for myself just how strong he is."
"…What the hell for…"
Every answer only made him repeat, “Why?”
"And maybe, while I’m at it, I’ll take over the Snowy King’s Army myself."
"Now that at least makes sense. You killed one of the Three Generals, so even if you sit still, the main camp’s bound to come at you."
"Is there no chance the Snowy King himself will move?"
"Who knows. Honestly, I’m not sure. He’s a crafty bastard. He knows how to use people. Even the general you killed had a nasty temper, but the Snowy King sweet-talked him into serving."
"He didn’t seem like he had a great personality."
"Tch. I always figured he’d get his comeuppance someday. Damn it, if it was gonna turn out like this anyway, I wish I’d gotten to see that bastard die."
Ubol let out a self-deprecating laugh and took a swig of liquor.
"Khh… damn, this really tastes like crap."
The fact that Hindir drank it so calmly and without a flinch was honestly impressive.
According to the subordinates, he’d been drinking all night last night too.
And when he showed up at Choranchai today, he still had a liquor bottle in his hand.
That meant…
"How the hell are you still alive?"
"Hm?"
"Drinking that trash like you do should kill you. And you don’t even seem drunk…"
Maybe the red skin was from alcohol—but even so, his behavior was way too composed.
"Liquor is the same as battle."
"What?"
"Fighting without succumbing to drunkenness. That’s a warrior’s life."
"…You crazy bastard."
Ubol just couldn’t hold back the curse.