“Have you been using drugs again, Master?”
The woman had purple hair.
After looking over both the room and him, she frowned as though it were the most natural reaction in the world.
...Who was she again?
Damn it. His head was throbbing.
“...Lina? No, Diana... Right. It was Diana.”
Diana.
She was a slave who had once been the daughter of a marquis, whom he had happened to take in when he burned down a slave market.
“Haa...”
Riklang irritably swept back his red hair.
His dull green eyes turned toward the window.
The weather was... Tsk. Who gave a damn about that?
“What time is it?”
“It is nearly noon. Why not stop taking those drugs now?”
Riklang’s brow twitched.
Diana’s nagging was no different from usual.
In fact, he kept her as his personal attendant precisely because he liked that insolent streak of hers.
For some reason, however, he found it difficult to tolerate today.
An inexplicable irritation surged within him.
A lowly slave. What the hell could someone like you possibly know?
“...I couldn’t sleep.”
The Empire’s betrayal had cost him everything.
His homeland, his family, his house, and perhaps even himself.
That was why he lived as the ‘Scourge of the Empire.’
A long nightmare.
The same utterly sickening nightmare had continued ever since that day.
His younger brother was dragged away by orcs while screaming for someone to save him, and his mother glared at him with wide-open eyes as she hung by the neck.
His father always poured venomous hatred upon him alongside bitter curses.
An old, utterly sickening dream.
And damn it all, it was always a horrific one for him.
He alone had survived.
Guilt and regret strangled him every night.
That was why he depended on drugs like these merely to make it through each day.
“Even so, relying on something like this...”
“Quiet.”
A long breath hissed through her nose.
“...Forgive me for overstepping.”
“Wine.”
Diana bowed deeply and picked up the bottle she had brought.
She started to hand it to her master, then stopped.
“...”
A moment of hesitation.
Riklang did not notice.
He merely snatched the bottle away with a trembling hand and an irritable scowl.
Without the slightest hesitation, he raised it to his lips.
Truthfully, he could barely taste it.
GULP—GULP.
...Wait.
When had he uncorked the bottle?
“Pfft! Cough!”
Riklang, who had just swallowed a mouthful, recoiled and spat it out.
“...What the hell is this? Why does it taste like that?”
His head spun from the lingering effects of the drugs.
When he glanced at Diana, he saw her biting her lip.
Betrayal.
Again.
That damned betrayal again.
Riklang’s face turned cold.
“Ha. You ungrateful bitch.”
“It is only a sleeping draught. They promised it would not kill you—Aah!”
He seized her forearm in an instant.
With his other hand, he clamped her mouth shut.
Diana could not utter even the faintest scream as he brutally shoved her against the wall.
“You damned bitch! I go easy on you, and this is how you repay me!? There’s already someone outside, isn’t there!?”
Drugged though he was, he had failed to notice anything until now.
That alone proved whoever was outside possessed considerable skill.
Who the hell was it?
The Emperor?
The Holy Church?
Or perhaps it was the marquis’s family after all.
There was no shortage of people who wanted him gone.
First, he would deal with this treacherous wench.
Yes. He would twist her neck and end it in an instant.
The moment that thought crossed his mind, he saw that Diana was crying.
Her eyes were tightly shut.
...Crying? Because it hurts?
No, that isn’t it. Then what is it?
His mind raced.
Then a memory suddenly surfaced.
A story she had once told him about her younger brother.
Although they were both illegitimate children, her brother had been allowed to remain in the marquis’s household simply because he was male.
He was Diana’s only remaining family and her precious younger brother.
“...Your brother?”
Her eyelids rose once more.
Her pupils were trembling violently.
“Don’t tell me they took your younger brother hostage. Is that it?”
“They said they would spare him... I’m sorry. I-I’m so sorry...”
She betrayed me to save her captive brother?
What a stupid bitch.
His fury soared, but strangely, his grip did not tighten.
...Sympathy?
Ha. Who was he to pity anyone?
“Damn it. Get the hell out of—”
The instant he released her with a trembling, irritated hand—
BOOM!
The door burst open with a deafening crash.
“Boss, we’re under atta—Guh!”
A sword blade erupted from the chest of one of his familiar subordinates.
Beyond him stood figures clad in pure white armor, each bearing the symbol of a green tree upon the chest.
Damn it.
Of all people, it had to be the Holy Knight Order.
The worst of the worst.
“Riklang is here!”
“Move in! Move in, now!”
Riklang immediately grabbed the sword propped beside the table.
“Damn it.”
Then, without hesitation, he leaped toward the window.
As she watched him go, Diana collapsed into helpless sobs.
He was a man branded a scourge, yet he was by no means evil.
At least, that was the kind of man Diana believed Riklang to be.
...But she had no choice.
“I’m sorry, Master. I’m so sorry...”
Her ceaseless tears soaked the floor.
***
...Ha. Had I been too intoxicated?
The entire area outside had already been surrounded.
“Haah... Haah...”
He fought for some time despite lacking proper equipment.
The bodies of mercenaries piled up one after another, and by the time Riklang was drenched in blood, one of the knights who had been standing back approached him.
“Impressive.”
Blond hair showed beneath the man’s hood.
He was tall as well, nearly matching Riklang’s own considerable height.
Could it be...?
“They said an ignorant brute who could barely wield mana had seized control of the Empire’s underworld. I can see why. They may have been mercenaries, but they were no rabble.”
Riklang steadied his breathing and carefully studied the man before him.
“Whatever brings the Holy Knights of the Church of Nikerva to a filthy place like this? This district worships nothing but money.”
“Insolent cur!”
“How dare you!”
The other Holy Knights around the blond man shouted.
Judging by their reactions, the blond man was their superior—and one who stood far above them.
That confirmed it.
“Ha. The Anointed One of the Church himself. What an honor. I never expected to see the Goddess’s First Sword in a place like this.”
“Are you not rather famous yourself? Riklang, the Scourge of the Empire.”
Even as he spoke, Riklang continuously surveyed his surroundings.
...Damn it. There are far too many of them.
Worse still, he had been unable to gather his blood energy properly for some time.
The other side must have done something.
“That is enough introductions. Could you come back later if you’re here to preach? I’m a little tired right now.”
“Dear me. One must listen to the Goddess’s word at any time, even on the verge of death.”
That glib tone irritated him.
...Is he treating me like a cornered rat?
Me?
Riklang’s brow twisted.
“Get to the point.”
“Threats, extortion, murder, smuggling, unlawful confinement... The list was rather long. Surrender quietly.”
“Bullshit. If that were enough to arrest me, I would have been caught ages ago. Do you know how many palms I’ve greased?”
“Well, if I must say... His Imperial Majesty has taken quite a dislike to you.”
Damn it. This had become a serious mess.
An inquisition ordered by the Emperor?
That was extremely troublesome.
“When did the Church become the Emperor’s lackey?”
“Let us call it a cooperative relationship.”
“...Ha. I see the picture now.”
The current Emperor could not remove him recklessly.
That was why Riklang had spent so much money bribing countless influential figures.
The Imperial Church, however, was a different matter.
Who could possibly stop an inquisition supported by the Emperor?
“So you want me to surrender? Why? Are you going to make me repent?”
“That is not impossible. The Church’s embrace is always open, even to a scourge such as you.”
“F*** off. Is ripping out someone’s fingernails and toenails and searing out their eyes what you people call repentance these days?”
“It is purification. Do not worry. You will not die. The priests of our Church are highly capable.”
Fucking lunatics.
Muttering those words, Riklang raised his middle finger.
“Hmm. Regrettable.”
The blond man quietly gestured, and three of the surrounding Holy Knights advanced simultaneously.
...This is bad.
“Hey, what happened to a knight’s honor? Are you really going to gang up on an unarmed civilian like this?”
“Kill him!”
One came from the front, while the other two approached from either side.
They were already markedly different from the clumsy mercenaries he had fought earlier.
After watching for an opening, Riklang instead charged directly toward the knight in front of him.
The one caught off guard was his opponent.
“Ugh!”
The knight’s sword sank into Riklang’s shoulder, but Riklang drove his own blade toward the man’s throat.
No.
It merely grazed him.
Too shallow.
If it did not kill him instantly, it was meaningless.
Riklang immediately rolled across the ground.
“You rat!”
One of the knights caught up to him in an instant and brought down his sword.
Riklang barely avoided it, only for another knight’s kick to rattle his skull.
“Ghk!”
Clinging to consciousness, he swiftly seized the extended leg and pulled, sending the knight crashing to the ground.
When his hand closed around a stone, he smashed it against the man’s helmet with all his strength.
CLANG!
“Guh!”
After repeating the blow two or three times, the struggling body went limp.
Just as Riklang thought only one remained—
SHNK!
The instant he felt a chill against his back, he threw himself across the ground.
But the blade had already cut him.
A sharp, aching pain spread along the back of his arm.
“...Haa.”
He forced himself upright, only to stagger.
His head was spinning.
Damn it. I’m in terrible shape.
“Enough.”
At the quiet command, the figures rushing toward him stopped dead.
Riklang did not miss that fleeting opportunity.
He swiftly reached toward a pool of blood beside one of the mercenary corpses scattered around him.
He attempted to activate Blood Magic, but as expected, nothing happened.
“I heard you practiced dark arts. It seems they have something to do with blood. Unfortunately, it is futile. For the time being, nothing but divine power will function in this area.”
Just as I thought.
Was it a holy relic?
Or was it the power of that monstrous Holy Knight?
“Still, three knights of the Church attacked you, and two ended up unconscious... I cannot decide whether to be impressed or appalled.”
The blond Holy Knight threw back his hood and approached.
The pressure leaking from him alone was enough for Riklang to understand.
I’m going to die.
Every instinct in his body was screaming a warning.
“Haah, haah... Hey, aren’t I a little too insignificant for you to step in yourself?”
“You? Excessive humility. You would have been far more dangerous had you been able to use dark arts or mana.”
“I’m suddenly feeling devout. Couldn’t you let me off?”
“Recruitment closed for the day.”
The blond Holy Knight was in an entirely different league from everyone Riklang had faced until now.
‘Sword Master.’
A superhuman who had taken a step beyond the limits of humanity.
Furthermore, he possessed overwhelming divine power befitting the Champion of the Church.
He was a monster before whom even the Empire’s other Sword Masters would willingly concede defeat.
Dangerous.
He was truly dangerous.
I have to find something.
There has to be a way...
“Let me ask you one thing.”
Riklang’s eyes continued darting in every direction.
What he needed was time.
“It is an obvious ploy... but ask.”
“What happens to Diana? She betrayed me. Will you at least pay her a reward?”
“...Diana? Who is that?”
His response suggested that he did not even know who she was.
At that moment, Riklang became certain.
She had been used as well.
“Ha. What a rotten mess.”
Yes.
This damned world had always been like this.
The weak could only ever have things taken from them.
“Still, you have done quite a few good deeds. Freeing slaves and supporting orphans were particularly unexpected. It was rather unlike a scourge, wouldn’t you say?”
“So, are you going to give me bonus points?”
“No. You injured knights of the Goddess, so purification is no longer possible. Regrettably, you will have to repent in death.”
Death.
Death, was it?
Riklang felt no particular aversion to it.
Most of him had died on the day he lost his family and homeland.
What remained was little more than residue, kept alive solely by a thirst for revenge.
And now they asked whether he feared death?
Who knew?
“Ha! You want to kill me? Then come and do it!”
He charged in an instant, and his sword stroke passed by the Holy Knight.
He had expected the man to evade it.
Riklang immediately hurled the stone clenched in his other hand.
He aimed for the man’s head.
CLANG!
However, the back of the Holy Knight’s sword deflected it.
Just as Riklang tried to swing his sword once more, a brilliant flash streaked past him.
“Aaargh!”
His right forearm was severed.
The section from his hand to his elbow flew away, the sword still clutched tightly in its grasp.
Riklang reflexively threw a punch with his remaining hand, but the Holy Knight caught it in his palm.
WHAM!
A kick slammed into Riklang’s abdomen, sending him flying into the distance.
“Your bones and muscles are strangely tough. Is this also the power of your dark arts? It feels as though I am cutting through a troll.”
“...Cough. What a flattering compliment.”
“You are welcome.”
Riklang’s brow tightened.
That leisurely attitude had irritated him from the beginning.
“You fucking bastard!”
He charged.
He abandoned himself entirely to his fury.
A madman drenched in crimson blood rushed toward a figure clad in immaculate white armor.
“Hmm. That is disappointing. Or perhaps you have simply lasted long enough.”
The Holy Knight easily stepped aside and drove his sword into the madman’s back.
The blade pierced him completely, although his body was indeed abnormally tough.
“Ghurk...”
The crimson figure collapsed onto the ground.
His body twitched several times, but soon became still.
He looked like a dark-red insect.
“What a waste of talent. Had only you properly walked the Goddess’s path. Latum (Worship)—Nikerva. As the Goddess wills.”
“...Grrk. H-Hey.”
It was the voice of a life nearing its end.
The noble Holy Knight was accustomed to situations like this.
“I will hear your final words.”
“...your...self.”
The muttering was so faint that the Holy Knight stepped closer and bent down to listen.
“What did you say?”
“...Go f*** yourself, you son of a bitch.”
“Such coarse language.”
“Professional pride... cough... that’s all.”
“Ha. Fair enough.”
A fragment of a strained smile appeared on Riklang’s face.
The Holy Knight, on the other hand, remained expressionless.
“I heard your real name is ‘Ron Glen Repent.’ Is that correct? Apparently, you are the son of a rather prominent family in the north.”
Ron Glen Repent.
The Duchy of Repen.
House Repent.
It was a painfully nostalgic name.
At the same time, it was also a deep and terrible scar.
How the hell did he find that out?
“Y-You investigate people’s backgrounds too?”
“A hobby of mine.”
Fucking lunatic.
Muttering those words, Riklang laughed weakly once more.
“You know... northern wine is best served ice-cold. Ha... Now I’ll be able to drink as much as I please.”
“I suppose you will.”
They were the ramblings of a dying man.
The listener merely nodded.
“Ghh. Kh... D-Damn it... again...”
Bloody phlegm began to rise and clog his throat.
Death had begun.
“...Haa.”
The Holy Knight believed that death treated everyone equally.
Whether one was evil or good, what life could truly be called lowly?
Everyone had their own circumstances and their own reasons.
That was all.
Therefore, he simply listened in silence.
He could at least do this much, even for a scourge.
“M-Mom...”
A beloved face suddenly appeared in Riklang’s mind.
Had she come to meet him?
“...”
The Holy Knight looked into Riklang’s eyes, then picked up the fallen red pendant and placed it in his hand.
“O Goddess, Lady of Life. Guide us both in life and at the hour of death.
We entrust to You this lamb, who now sets forth on a long journey.
We beseech You to punish lightly the sins he committed in this world and grant him Your grace so that he may not lose his way.
Almighty Mother, clothe this pitiful soul in fine garments and offer him warm wine. And thus...”
The light began to fade from Riklang’s eyes.
The Scourge of the Empire was finally being cured.
The prayer continued.
It was a foul-smelling street.
Yet, on that rare occasion, the day was bright and clear.
***
His consciousness faded.
“...Clothe this pitiful soul in fine garments and offer him warm wine. And thus...”
A prayer recited by the Champion?
Ha. What an honor.
A candle on the verge of going out left behind one final trace of lingering attachment.
A life without regret?
No.
His had been a life filled with regret.
Riklang had lived like a good-for-nothing.
That was true now, but it had also been true in the past.
He had been arrogant, self-indulgent, and truly foolish.
Blinded by jealousy, he had failed to see the people who mattered most to him, and in the end, he had lost everything.
Then he had burned away the entirety of his remaining life for revenge.
Regret always came too late.
That was why it was called regret.
What meaning could it possibly have now?
At last, complete silence descended.
...Yes.
It’s time to rest.
I’ve done enough.
***
“...Master!”
“...awake!”
...Hm?
What are those voices?
“Young Master!”
“Brother, are you awake?”
A brilliant light poured down alongside the familiar voices.
As though it were trying to awaken him.
Riklang.
No.
Ron Glen Repent—Opened his eyes after a long sleep.