Chapter 50

-Did you see it?

His eyes open.

No, regaining consciousness would be the more accurate term.

“Huff!”

Having experienced something similar before, Carriel wasn’t as panicked as the others.

“B, what just happened?”

“Is that… Fortress Carriel’s… memory?”

-Did you see it?

A heavy voice.

All eyes turned toward the source of the sound, but reactions varied.

For good reason.

The voice was coming from all around.

And there, standing somehow, were hazy figures of savage warriors.

Dozens of them.

Maybe even more.

They glared at everyone inside, including Carriel, as if surrounding them.

Those with helmets peered through the gaps.

Others simply stared with wild eyes visible beneath their brows.

-Did you see it?

“Wh, what are we supposed to have seen?”

“Hey, are you seriously trying to talk to ghosts right now?”

Baron Raia’s comment was met with Fielbar’s sass, but—

-Then tell me, did YOU not see it?

“Uh, uh? What I mean is… Can you actually hear me?”

Fielbar’s face went pale upon realizing the truth.

If possible, his already pale skin turned even whiter.

-…….

The silence weighs heavily.

There was no room for jokes or playful antics here.

“I, I saw it! Alright? I saw it!”

His slumped shoulders make him look incredibly frail.

“What exactly ARE you people? I can guess roughly, but…”

Luke boldly asked the question.

With just a bit of wit, there’d be no need to ask in the first place, but confirmation was clearly necessary. After all, their garb and attire alone pretty much revealed their identities.

-We were wronged.

They speak.

They died pointlessly.

They fell uselessly.

They perished utterly without meaning.

That’s what they said.

-How lamentable.

Had they died like true warriors,

Had they fallen gloriously,

Surely they wouldn’t be bound to this land.

In an eternal battlefield.

On a glorious stage.

They would’ve basked in the honor of being warriors chosen by the gods.

-Why couldn’t we reach that place?

-Why can’t we leave here?

-Tell us, descendants. Why must we rot so pitifully, so meaninglessly?

One warrior raised an axe.

Another gripped a massive greatsword.

Yet another held a hammer.

Some aimed spears.

One guy even bashed his own head with a large shield.

But none of them looked unscathed.

One lacked eyes.

Another limped.

Someone else had only one arm.

There were those whose cheeks split open, revealing jaw joints and teeth.

Others bled profusely from wounds on their abdomen or neck.

At least dozens of such figures stood there.

No explanation needed.

These were, simply put, THAT.

People killed by Saint Carriel.

Warriors who fell in battle.

Until now silent, Alesia stepped forward and asked:

“The reason you showed us that memory, and the reason you’re speaking to us now—I assume there’s a purpose. Please enlighten us. What do you desire?”

-…….

A long, heavy silence.

Yet their determination was palpable, evident from the atmosphere and the aura they exuded. They were igniting the fighting spirit in Saint Carriel’s descendants.

Was it resentment? Was it lingering hatred?

Or maybe they just needed someone to vent their frustration on.

…Who knows.

Still.

Carriel’s gaze shifted slightly.

He still stood there.

A faint, ghostly figure.

Looking like he could vanish at any moment, precarious and unstable.

Exactly as he appeared in the memories.

No, slightly different.

Perhaps this was how he looked after defeating the barbarian warriors. Likely afterward.

The only difference: His body, though no longer bleeding, was already battered beyond repair.

“Now that I think about it… Ruel?”

Alesia glanced at Carriel as if just remembering something.

“By any chance, did you know that name beforehand? Is that why you chose it as your alias during your knight’s journey?”

“…….”

Just a strange coincidence.

An orphan named Ruel had ties to Saint Carriel, and coincidentally, that became his alias.

When choosing the alias back then, nothing specific came to mind, so he absentmindedly blurted out “Ruel.”

Part of his father’s name.

At the time, that was all he could think of.

And while he regretted it from the moment he spoke it until now, spilled milk stays spilled.

Even if you want to, you can’t always scoop it back up easily.

But ultimately, it was just an alias.

There was never any spilled milk to begin with.

“Not at all.”

“That’s right. Besides, thanks to the Radiant Knights, the name Ruel has spread far and wide, so it’s not surprising anymore.”

And thus, it inevitably comes up every time.

Fielbar also chimed in, seemingly just remembering:

“Oh yeah, wasn’t it mentioned recently that the lady had her second child?”

Also something heard occasionally while traveling between villages.

Though he pretended not to notice.

“You guys, isn’t this irrelevant right now?”

Lord Raia, seriously monitoring the surroundings, was uneasily scanning the spirits of warriors encircling Holy Maiden Alesia and the rest.

“Inadvertently, we’ve only reaffirmed the human side of our ancestors.”

Or perhaps, seeing Saint Carriel’s memory earlier left him disappointed with his ancestor’s behavior.

Or maybe—

“Well, thinking about it, if it were me, I probably would’ve done the same. There’s no way I could blame them.”

“Father….”

Ludhi watched him with a sympathetic gaze.

―BOOM!

Finally.

The souls stomped their feet against the ground, breaking the silence.

-What we desire is a reenactment of that battle. The exact battlefield from that day! Its recreation.

“??”

-We couldn’t even meet death satisfactorily. If only we had died gloriously here, we wouldn’t have been so wretched and pitiful.

“It seems there’s some backstory we’re unaware of.”

Fielbar whispered to Alesia in a lowered tone.

“…….”

She silently observed the situation without showing any outward reaction.

As a holy maiden, she had a duty—and the ability—to help these unfortunate souls tied to this land, even if they were pagans.

Would she turn away from that?

‘Even Irene herself forgave those who tried to stab her.’

Should those who claim to follow her teachings and legacy ignore this?

If one claims to be a devout believer yet constantly makes excuses and refuses to reflect on or follow those teachings, is that truly righteous conduct?

It might be difficult to follow.

But not even attempting it—what kind of reasoning is that?

“…….”

Alesia too had glimpsed into Saint Carriel’s memories.

It was clear Filbar hadn’t intended this, judging by his dumbfounded expression alone.

Nevertheless, Saint Carriel’s life gave her significant insight.

“If the reenactment of that battle is impossible, what happens to us?”

She asked.

-Then we shall let only one person live.

A cruel verdict was passed.

“And if we refuse?”

-We will kill all of you. Among you, we’ll choose one to survive. That way, the truth can be spread throughout the mortal realm.

“W, wait! What crime have we committed to deserve this?! This isn’t right!”

Fielbar freaked out.

While the Baroneurers didn’t outright rebel, their stance shifted visibly.

Luke cracked his wrist and said:

“Let’s steel ourselves. We still have the Holy Maiden on our side, don’t we?”

That’s true, but—

“What about proper equipment? How are we supposed to fight without it?”

“That’s easy—one sword is enough….”

Luke confidently drew his sword mid-sentence but stopped abruptly, realizing something important: except for Carriel, none of them were properly armed.

His face immediately flushed red with embarrassment when he noticed the most crucial combatant—the Holy Maiden—was completely defenseless.

“The Holy Maiden doesn’t need weapons; her whole body is a weapon, so she’s fine without them.”

“…You wanna test that theory?”

Crack!

With just a clenched fist, Alesia made a bone-crushing sound that echoed menacingly.

Despite being startled, Fielbar steadied himself, motioning his servants closer with a flick of his hand.

“…….”

“Ruel?”

Alesia quietly inquired.

For a moment, Carriel seemed lost in thought, offering no response. Watching him briefly, she followed his gaze.

At empty space.

Yet Carriel stared intently as if something were definitely there.

Suddenly, he turned his head.

“There’s another weapon.”

“What?”

Carriel pointed with his index finger.

“That thing over there.”

“…….”

It was…

Just an old straight sword.

The very blade rumored to have once belonged to Saint Carriel.

And…

Everyone who had glimpsed Saint Carriel’s memories believed it without a doubt.

But still.

That was ancient history.

“…….”

Silently, Carriel approached and picked up the sword.

Though its edge was dull, its body cracked and rusted, it retained its form due to careful preservation.

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

Alesia asked. Without answering, Carriel gripped the worn-out sword and took a deep breath.

He closed and opened his eyes several times.

Then smirked lightly.

Well.

There was no room for hesitation or second-guessing anyway.

“You said it. You want a reenactment of that day, a reenactment of that humiliation. Is that what you said?”

-Uh…?

“Ruel?”

Carriel exhaled deeply and spoke.

“So what? Where does it end? Do you only feel satisfied if you win? Or must you experience an even more humiliating defeat than before to be convinced?”

-There’s no satisfaction. Only the result matters—life or death. So if you can knock us all down, if you have the skill to handle us, then all of you living ones will return intact.

“In that case, hypothetically speaking…”

Carriel lifted his calm gaze.

Sweeping his eyes over the spirits, he asked:

“If I satisfy you, even if I myself don’t survive, will the others be spared? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Ruel?”

“What are you talking about right now?”

“Stop spouting nonsense and focus on combining our strength! Don’t recklessly say things like that…”

Carriel shouted.

“If that’s the case, there’s no point in hesitating! Here! The Carriel you seek is right here!”

He shouted again.

“Furthermore, I’m a fellow disciple of the one who defeated you! Trained under the same master! And even share the same name!”

At this.

The spirits unanimously fixed their gazes on this single individual.

Like a sudden storm cloud appearing over tranquil seas.

The fighting spirit of the encircling barbarian warriors surged, carrying gales and lightning.

Breathing becomes naturally constricted.

The sensation of无形 pressure pressing down on the entire body was no illusion.

“Ru, Ruel?”

“What are you saying right now?”

“Eh? Eh?! Your alias is Ruel, and your real name is Carriel? Is that what this is about?”

Carriel paid no attention to the others’ reactions, nor responded to their queries.

He merely waited.

Simply endured.

The spirits’ voices resonated.

-A fellow disciple?!

-So you learned the same swordsmanship as Carriel?

-Are you from the same clan? Same race?

-Are you his bloodline? His descendant?

-Was he not a born hero? Not a natural warrior?

“The Carriel who defeated you is now revered as a famous guardian saint and a paragon among knights. Across the continent, his name is widely known. In your terms, he was a great warrior.”

Warrior.

Back then, the title “knight” hadn’t yet spread. He remembered how Ilund was called a Great Warrior.

“But among countless Carriels throughout history, I dare say that finding another one who meets your criteria will be impossible—not in a hundred years, not in a thousand. One who learned the same swordsmanship, shares the same name—it’s your last chance to encounter someone like me.”

Thus, swear here.

“If you sincerely wish to engage in a warrior’s honorable battle, accept my challenge willingly. Regardless of the outcome, ensure the safety of everyone else.”

Right then.

Unseen by Carriel.

Somewhere outside his line of sight.

A previously blank figure suddenly turned toward him.

Staring directly.

Though his reddened eyes burned fiercely, they emitted light.

-Excellent!

Carriel didn’t know.

Couldn’t see.

Because.

The spirits that captured his vision were ready to charge at any moment, continuously igniting their fighting spirit.

His legs felt like they’d collapse if he relaxed even slightly.

Even breathing heavily was a struggle, but still—

He wouldn’t falter, glaring intensely.

Even with bloodshot eyes verging on bursting, turning the whites red, Carriel didn’t blink once.

Yeah.

This is fine.

In fact, this is much better.

Compared to the hardships and humiliations endured in Rutania, this method of suffering is—

Almost laughable.

“Ruel! What are you deciding all on your own?!”

Alesia approached furiously, trying to get close to Carriel, but massive spirits blocked her path like walls.

-Don’t interfere.

-Are you trying to defile the soul of a warrior?

“Warrior?! Are you serious right now?!”

Others also panicked, shouting and questioning him, but—

Any further opportunity was denied.

Once again.

The world crumbled.

Like being submerged underwater.

However, this time, it wasn’t as prolonged.

It merely felt like the chaotic wind blurred his vision momentarily as he blinked.

When he opened his eyes, the world had changed.

“…….”

There.

Carriel stood alone, gripping a tattered sword.

On an expansive plain.

Huh.

A smile involuntarily formed on his lips.

‘In the end.’

I ended up confessing my damn name in front of everyone.

How absurd.

What worried Carriel right now—

Was just that trivial issue.

Gripping the sword tightly.

Though this was an unfamiliar one-handed sword.

Who cares.

Does it matter if it’s one hand or both?

After all, he had no talent for swords.

It was merely a tool and means called swordsmanship.

What mattered was the heart.

True intentions.

The will to act.

The resolve to achieve.

Thus, he never forgot his mindset.

Didn’t the Demon King himself say it?

Even in the most desperate moment, nearly crushed by Ellie’s overwhelming power—

It wasn’t flashy sword skills that allowed him to move forward without hesitation.

Nor was it what saved him.

What pierced through that sliver of possibility?

It was nothing but sheer willpower and intent.

And what backed it up?

[The reason for that miracle? Several factors could be cited, but the core reason is this.]

Precisely.

[A will so pure it surpasses desperation. And what supported it was likely resolution.]

The Demon King said that.

And he remembered it vividly.

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