PMS 06

PMS

Posted by Hari, Released on October 22, 2025

Chapter -06

The memories of the past remain vivid.
Too vivid, perhaps.

Sitting in the bandits’ wagon like this brings it all back.

Back then, I was tied up, wasn’t I?

The ropes digging into my wrists, the first time I ever felt real pain —
those open wounds that kept stinging.
For a mere boy, it was an unending ordeal.

But now?

“Are you comfortable back there?”
“Yeah.”

Now, I ride comfortably in the back seat.

Mosley glanced back every so often to check on me,
while the other two sat with their heads down, nursing big lumps on their foreheads.

Mosley, their burly leader, had smacked them both hard earlier.
Ever since then, they hadn’t dared say a word.

Watching the village gates come into view, Mosley spoke up.

“Prophet, if it really is a serious illness, we’ll repay you properly.”
“No need.”
“Still, you’re our savior…”

I knew how it was.

Even bandits — who live by looting and killing — have their own codes.
For these small-time ones, honor and debts are taken seriously.
They repay what’s owed and avenge what’s due.
Otherwise, they’d just pile up grudges and end up hunted down.

What they wanted was simple: to live long enough to be a nuisance no one bothered exterminating —
a chronic cold rather than a plague.

“Enough talk. Go check first. What did I tell you?”
“To go to the best physician and confirm it…!”
“Right.”

Screeeech.

When the wagon stopped, Mosley jumped off like his feet were on fire.
The sharp smell of herbs filled the air — clearly the best clinic in the village.

“I’ll be right back!”
“Sure.”

And just like that, I was left with the two other bandits.

Awkward.

Just as I thought that, one of them — Garlon — growled and turned to me.

“You little con artist!”
“What?”
“What, ‘what’? If it weren’t for Mosley, I’d—!”

Then, as if deciding something, his expression shifted.

“Well, Mosley’s not here now, is he? You bastard!”

He grabbed me by the collar, and the other one, Pitu, joined in hesitantly.

“Y-yeah! You tricked the boss with your smooth tongue! We’ll beat you before he gets back!”

Tense air crackled between us.
Their other hands were already at their sword hilts.

“So you’re gonna take me out before the boss returns?”
“Damn right!”
“At least you’re honest.”
“Hah.”

I sighed.
So much for hoping they weren’t this stupid.

There’s that old saying in strategy: A fool is immune to clever tactics.
These two fit it perfectly.

Still, two of them I can handle.

Just as I reached for my own weapon—

BANG!

The clinic window burst open.
Mosley’s face popped out.

“T-thank you, young master! The doctor confirmed it! If I’d waited any longer, it would’ve turned malignant!”

I waved lazily at him.

“Told you so, didn’t I?”
“Thank you, young master! I’ll just fetch the medicine!”

SLAM!

The window closed again with a crash.

But even with the truth out, Garlon still had me by the collar, fuming.

“S-so what if it’s true!”
“Hey now, let go.”
“What’s that got to do with me, huh?! You creepy bastard!”

Guess he still hadn’t gotten over being smacked.
He drew his sword and lunged at me—

—but was promptly sent flying by a meaty fist.

“What the hell, you idiot!”

The one who stopped him was Pitu.
Garlon shouted back at him,
but Pitu just stood there, eyes trembling in shock.

“W-wait… if the prophecy’s real, then—!”

His face turned red as a beet.

“Then you really did sleep with my wife, you bastard!”

Ah.
And then the brawl began.

Clink!

Mosley handed me a heavy pouch of gold coins.
Blood money, sure, but if I didn’t take it, it’d only be used for worse things.

I accepted it.

“Please, visit again! Once I’m better, I’ll treat you even more respectfully!”
“That’s enough. You don’t need to treat me like a noble.”
“Still! Anything you want!”
“This’ll do.”

I shook the pouch and turned to leave.

With this, I’d rent a horse and move on to the next village —
where the artifacts I needed were still untouched.

Everything so far matched my memories perfectly.

There’s nothing of value here anyway… wait.

I stopped mid-step.
Something important came to mind.

“Hey, Mosley.”
“Yes, sir?”

I leaned in and whispered.

“You got that?”
“…Is that really true?”
“Of course. Don’t you trust me?”
“No, no! I believe you! Absolutely!”

He bowed repeatedly, then pulled out another pouch.

“I insist! Please, take this too!”
“Didn’t I say it’s fine?”
“After hearing something like that, how could I not repay you?!”

And so, I ended up taking another pouch —
cheap, non-royal coins, but still plenty.

“Anyway, get ready and head out soon.”

What I told him was about a cave.

A cave that, five years later, would be discovered nearby.
An ancient mage’s lair — later famous as a tourist spot where villagers cooled off in the summer.

But back then, the entrance was sealed.

Adventurers later learned the truth:
to open that cave originally required a human sacrifice.

So, I gave Mosley two “prophecies.”

One — that treasure awaited inside the cave.
And two — how to open it.

To be exact…

“How to become the sacrifice yourself.”

Morning came.

In the inn’s courtyard, I swung my sword again and again.
It’d been a week now since I’d stayed in this village.

Still no word about those bandits disappearing.

I’d packed all this gear just to use inside that cave, but—

No way they’d ignore treasure that long, right?

Even with knowledge of the future, there were limits to what I could predict.
All I could do was focus on what was in front of me.

Whsshh.

The blade sliced cleanly through the air.

“Perfect… Fourth Form.”

After hours of practice, the technique finally flowed right.

My arms ached, but the muscle was building fast — faster than it should.

Must be the memories.

It felt like my body was racing to catch up with what I remembered it could do.

Or maybe it’s the power of the Eighth Relic.

Either way, the future that relic once showed me still hadn’t come to pass.

Whatever. No point overthinking it.

Whoosh.

Time would reveal it eventually.

My fourth form sliced the air perfectly once more.
At sixteen, this was already beyond human limits —
I was channeling mana into the blade.
Something normally reserved for thirty-year-old veterans.

Around here, that makes me an expert already.

As I focused on my training, a voice called out.

“Hey, you there.”

Deep, resonant — but unpolished.
Not noble, I could tell without looking.
Sounded a bit like me, actually.

I wiped my sweat and turned.

“Yes?”

A mustached man stood watching me.

“You’ve been here a week. Got no family ties around?”

Family, huh.

After a pause, I nodded.

“No, I’m an orphan.”

Of course, my father was very much alive —
but the less anyone knew about my noble lineage, the better.

Even within the prophetic clan, one survived by staying hidden.

Sorry, Master.

As I quietly apologized to the man who was probably still studying that crystal orb,
the mustached stranger studied me closely.

“I see… impressive swordsmanship though…”

He stroked his chin.

“Ever thought of becoming a mercenary?”

So that’s where this was going.

I smiled politely.

“I was thinking of registering at the adventurers’ guild, actually. I’ll take what work I can get.”
“No, no. Not that kind of odd-job place.”

Odd jobs, huh?
Among commoners, that phrase only meant one thing.

“You mean… a mercenary corps?”

A mercenary corps.

Unlike the guild — which was full of amateurs —
mercenary corps were professional, organized, and powerful.

It was also the world I’d once dedicated my entire life to.

“Yes, exactly.”
“A mercenary corps, huh…”

That definitely caught my interest.

With my knowledge of the future, I could monopolize artifacts and prevent countless wasted lives.
But I had to be careful — not all corps were worth joining.

“May I ask which one?”
“You might’ve heard of it. The Herter Mercenary Corps. I usually don’t scout young folks, but—”
“Wait. Herter?”

I couldn’t hide my excitement.

They were here?

In this very city?

No wonder I didn’t know — last time, I’d been too busy being dragged around as a slave.

This is a chance.

The name alone brought memories flooding back:

[“Herter Mercenary Corps to challenge for official recognition.” (Front page)]
[“The band of demons shaking the class system — nobles express concern.” (Page 2)]
[“The mercenaries who stopped a war — chivalry among commoners.” (Page 2)]

Around this time, their fame was at its peak —
so great that the kingdom itself moved to make them the first officially recognized mercenary corps.

They were in the middle of proving their worth through a major commission.

I remembered now — it was from a newspaper Mosley had tossed aside in the wagon.

The Herter Mercenary Corps… I can’t let this chance go!

It wasn’t just admiration.

They were legendary.

They accomplished every impossible mission,
rediscovered lost ruins,
and rebuilt entire towns.

But by the time I became active, they were long gone —
killed in a tragic accident.

Their deaths had left a massive shadow.
Because of them, it took me fifteen long years before anyone called me the Mercenary King.

I always wanted to cross blades with them once…

I dug through my vivid memories.
How did they die again?