Chapter 387 - Everyone Has Their Own Hell

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Chapter 387 - Everyone Has Their Own Hell

'For what purpose?'

Andrew stood in front of the castle gate with five trainees.

In front of them, he saw a man wielding a sword and a tall figure holding a mace, trailing behind.

'For the kingdom?'

It felt strange, to say the least. Andrew thought about why he was here and what made him risk his life.

He hadn't come here solely to fight.

'Why?'

Was it for the kingdom? No. While he could say that on the surface, deep down, his loyalty wasn't purely to that.

More importantly, there was something he had observed while guarding the country of Naurilia.

'Is this kingdom worth dedicating my life to?'

He wasn't sure for the future, but at least not right now. He had sided with Krang because there was no other choice.

Yet, here he was.

"Stop! Don't back down!"

The shout of Squire Ropord echoed. He had become the commander of the gate.

The man, the captain of the guards or whatever he was, was nervously watching from the side, quickly grabbing his bow to shoot.

From what Andrew could hear, it seemed he hadn't risen through merit but rather through political maneuvering.

The ones who knew how to fight were the guard captains, but even they weren't in a position to act from the top of the gate.

In other words, there was no one else to stop the people advancing toward the castle gate.

Andrew glanced at both the front and back before continuing his march. His thoughts from earlier continued to echo in his mind.

There were things that couldn't be avoided if the conclusion wasn't reached.

One thing about why he was here was clear.

'The family.'

Was it enough to just seek noble status?

Was it enough to just have a family?

Did he need only the 'Gardner' name?

The name didn't matter. That wasn't important at all.

Andrew tightened his grip on his sword and adjusted his stance. A straight sword represented his resolve. His dream. His heart.

Who had he learned this from?

'The captain.'

Andrew had learned by watching Enkrid's life, his daily routine, his training, and the time he spent.

It wasn't just about learning technique. It wasn't just about rolling his body through practice.

From Enkrid, Andrew had learned how to dream.

'What kind of family will I create?'

"What kind of person will I be?"

He spoke aloud as he completed his thought.

He would raise a proper family under a rightful royal house. He didn't seek power; he sought the right path.

And that was why he was here.

Unknowingly, Andrew smiled.

He didn't realize it, but his smile resembled Enkrid's in some way.

It was the smile of one chasing a dream.

In Andrew's eyes, he saw the five trainees controlling their breathing from the side.

"Whoo, whoo."

The largest of them exhaled the loudest. It wasn't that they lacked combat experience, but the approaching enemy exuded a clear murderous intent, something they hadn't encountered before.

A few soldiers stood in the way of the advancing swordsman.

There was no time to stop them.

Like Andrew, they had likely chosen to stand here of their own will.

The soldiers spoke as they charged.

The swordsman's arm moved. The blade reflected the light as it slashed and thrust.

Whoosh, flick, swish.

The sword was so sharp that the soldier was sliced cleanly with every strike.

"Ahhh!"

A soldier screamed as his fingers were severed and he fell to the side.

To the soldiers defending the castle gate, this was an opponent they couldn't stop.

"Whoo."

Andrew took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"Lord Andrew?"

"Don't die like a dog. Fall back."

There were two opponents.

One was the swordsman in front, and the other was the man wielding a heavy-looking mace in the back.

Andrew's eyes scanned the face of his opponent. As he approached, he spoke. He had learned from Enkrid that his training wasn't just about dreaming; it was about making an impact.

"Hey, you with the bird eyes. Come here."

The words came out effortlessly.

The man, who had been about to leap forward, turned his head to look at Andrew.

He only turned his head, so his movements looked stiff, like a puppet.

The nickname "bird-eyed" fit perfectly.

His eyes were small and round, as if a needle had punctured them.

Mocking his appearance wasn't a challenge here.

This was a battlefield. If necessary, one could insult not just their appearance but even their parents.

'As I learned.'

Andrew gathered his resolve.

In any situation, one must do their best.

That's how Enkrid had lived.

Whether provoking or fighting, he had done it in that way.

And that's what he had taught Andrew.

Andrew followed that path.

"Hey, can you see as well as a bird?"

The insults continued. Andrew's attire was that of a noble. He wore armor engraved with the Gardner family crest, holding a shield and sword, even wearing a visor helmet.

His words didn't fit his appearance.

The swordsman, a member of the Mernes family, had never been insulted like this before. His sword was the pride of his family, and being treated with respect was a given. He raised his sword.

"I won't make it quick."

Anger spurred him to speak.

"Hey, can you even see?"

The unexpected words struck back.

The swordsman from the Mernes family, filled with rage, stepped forward and swung his sword with full force.

As he stepped, his sword came down with a mighty strike.

Andrew raised his shield to block. The clash made a loud noise as the blade dug into the shield, but Andrew sidestepped and disrupted the strike, then stabbed his sword into the opening.

The swordsman staggered back, shouting.

"Brick!"

At the swordsman's cry, the mace-wielding man approached with heavy steps.

He looked like someone who might have stolen the blood of a giant.

"Is your mother a giant?"

Andrew's words cut straight for the weak spot, his tongue as sharp as his sword.

"Bastard."

The man with the mace gritted his teeth, veins bulging.

"Or is it your father?"

This time, it wasn't Andrew who spoke.

One of the trainees, a freckled woman, added her words. As she spoke, she showed what she had learned, causing the man with the mace to turn his gaze to the side.

"We'll take care of this."

The five trainees spoke in unison.

Andrew nodded. He, along with the five trainees, had survived the hellish trials of Rem and conquered the demonic challenges of Enkrid to make it here.

No matter who came, they would be a better match than the two of them.

"Die, blind bastard!"

Andrew finally threw out the provocation.

"Fucking bastard."

The opponent, already enraged, drove his sword into the shoulder guard. The combination of leather and metal that covered the shoulder fell apart, and blood spurted out.

"I'll cut your tongue off first."

Despite this, the opponent was still furious. Ignoring the wound, he showed his anger. Andrew nodded in response.

"Where are you looking when you speak? Look me in the eye when you speak to me. Ah, were you looking at my eyes? Sorry, I didn't know since your eyeballs aren't visible."

It was only after drawing a dragon and piercing the eyes that the picture was complete.

Andrew did this. With words, he attacked the eyes of his opponent, stripping away their reason.

The opponent, losing his rationality, charged again.

Squire Ropord watched the battlefield and thought.

'Something's wrong.'

The enemy's numbers were overwhelming. They were threatening. Moreover, the ten people in front were something else entirely.

Each one exuded a murderous aura. Among them, three seemed to be above him in rank.

Even so, he still had a moment to breathe.

'Is this really all they have?'

There didn't seem to be any reinforcements. While their mangonels and weapons were menacing, they had been destroyed earlier…

'But they've broken them…'

Ropord continued to think. He had seen Enkrid and was now considering walking the same path. Why was he on this path?

To accumulate wealth and rise in status?

He had just ignored, no, gone against the orders from above. Even if this ended well, he'd be at least reprimanded, or worse, imprisoned if things went wrong.

Still, he was here.

'I'm a knight.'

Squire Ropord wanted to fulfill his duty. He had hidden words deep in his heart.

'For the glory of the royal family and the kingdom.'

He had grown up watching his seniors and wanted to protect his honor.

Then what was Ropord's hell?

'The royal family disappearing.'

His thoughts intertwined with his actions, purpose, and heart, and connected with the current situation to give him an answer.

Suddenly, a cold sweat ran down his back.

What did the enemy want?

What did the one who started this conflict desire?

His mind was racing like never before. His ear, which had previously bent toward his opponent's words, now focused inward, listening to his own thoughts.

The enemy's strength became clear.

Of course, it would have been tough without Ragna and Dunbakel. They were a significant threat.

But he also thought, 'It's just a challenge.'

'If we hold out at the city gates, we can survive.'

It would be difficult, but it was possible.

So what was the conclusion?

The person who sent him to Enkrid was not the constable. The moment his face appeared in his mind, the thought hit him. What if he was on the opposite side?

"The palace is in danger!"

Ropord shouted as he struck the wall with his fist.

Below, Yon, wearing his horned helmet, heard the shout. The warrior from the eastern regions, Yon, loved combat.

To be precise, he enjoyed using all kinds of tricks to topple and kill his opponents.

If Meelun from Border Guard had his joy in defeating weaker enemies, Yon relished the struggle and death of stronger opponents. He would even take hostages to induce the enemy's mistakes. He would do anything to create an opening.

It was a malicious desire.

"Do you know anyone in the palace?"

Yon asked with a serious face.

Though he appeared as if he only fought righteous battles, his heart was the opposite.

He touched the wide scar on his cheek. It ran from his cheekbone to his chin.

"This scar was from the day my wife died."

It was a lie. But who would know the difference? If he could twist the enemy's mind, he would do anything.

"It wasn't even half a day. Just enough time for a candle to burn down."

Yon said, showing the distance between his thumb and index finger. It was less than a finger's length.

"Well, not quite an instant, but it was a brief delay. I'll ask again. Do you know anyone in the palace? If you do, I'll send you there. Go."

Yon had recognized something. The man in front of him was at least a junior knight. He didn't know where he came from.

Since the main force of the knights wouldn't normally come to the city gates, he clearly wasn't from the knights.

Yon gestured, and one of his mercenaries beside him lowered his large shield, making a heavy thud.

They had fought together for years. Inside that shield was a net made from monster scales and tendons.

As soon as the man before him turned around, the net would be thrown.

'Come on, turn around.'

Yon acted like an honorable warrior.

But Ragna didn't hear a word from his opponent.

"What's at the palace?"

Instead, Ragna asked Squire Ropord on the wall, who could not explain in detail and simply repeated the same words.

"We have to return to protect the palace!"

Danger? Threat?

Everyone has their own hell.

Ragna had found the reason he lacked motivation.

It didn't matter to him whether the people here lived or died. That's why.

It was like walking with no destination. Without a destination, there was no need to look back at the path he had walked or find the direction he needed to go.

'No attachment.'

Thus, no motivation.

There was no reason for him to be here. He felt like he was wearing a mismatched suit.

He felt like he was forcing himself to eat food he didn't want to taste.

He had just realized that now.

The threat to the palace, which soon turned into the danger to Enkrid, made him think of it.

Ragna found the place he needed.

If Enkrid were to die because of this?

'Back to the past?'

It would be a life with no motivation.

He didn't want to go back. He had learned how to move forward and saw the way ahead. Therefore, he didn't want the tool he needed to die. In other words, the commander must not die yet.

But he wouldn't disobey his command.

Enkrid's order was to protect the gates.

So, he would protect and move on.

'A shortcut.'

Ragna thought of the fast way forward.

As he stood there, in a daze, one of Yon's mercenaries, who was positioned behind him, pulled back his shortbow.

He was a man who enjoyed close combat with his shortbow, sometimes using poisoned arrows. He pulled the string back.

Thwack!

An arrow pierced Ragna's back. Or rather, it didn't.

It passed through his afterimage.

Ragna bent his body forward.

The arrow passed through where his chest had been and embedded itself in the ground.

Ragna momentarily drew the sword he had kept sheathed.

Sling.

As the sound of friction echoed, Yon realized something was off and swung his glaive.

It was useless.

Earlier, Ragna had shown none of his ability due to his lack of motivation.

Now, it was different.

'To the palace.'

A traveler with a destination walked with purpose.

Ragna's sword moved with the same intent.

***

'What is this?'

The ferryman could only watch, not intervene.

In other words, he could see repetitive events. In a way, it was like seeing a part of the future.

For this reason, he did not find enjoyment in watching.

Knowing what would happen robbed him of the opportunity to experience joy.

That's why these unpredictable moments were a welcome change.

At first, he was bewildered.

But slowly, an emotion he had long forgotten began to awaken.

The joy of seeing the unknown.

"Heh."

The ferryman, on the boat drifting on the river of the spiritual world, savored the euphoria he had once felt.

It was unpredictable. The future was unclear. Had this always been such a delightful thing?

Today was different. The repetitive today he had seen was changing in an unexpected direction.

The ferryman, being just a watcher, did not overthink it.

He simply enjoyed the moment.

In the spiritual world, he mentally smiled and laughed aloud, wanting to feel the great waves of joy.

It was the kind of pleasure he had longed for.

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