PMS 08

chapter:08

The day I finally joined the Herter Mercenary Corps.

The weather was bright and crisp that day.

I was on my way to meet up with the main force, riding alongside the mustached man who had scouted me — the commander of the Herter Mercenaries, Oskar.

Clatter, clatter.

The carriage jolted over uneven ground, and my luggage rattled with every bump. Oskar glanced back at the pile of my belongings as he held the reins.

“Is that all your stuff?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Quite a lot for a mercenary. You’ll have to cut down on that later.”
“Ah—yes, of course.”

I gave him an awkward, sheepish smile, pretending to be an innocent boy who didn’t know any better.

As if.

There’s only one item in there that really matters.

My luggage had definitely gotten bulkier than before — about the size of a mountain backpack, the kind adventurers use when they pack for everything.

“Anyway, forget the luggage. There’s something else I wanted to ask.”

Oskar kept tossing me questions — probably curious about the new recruit.

“That sword of yours.”
“Oh, this?”
“Yeah. I’ve never seen one quite like it.”

He was talking about the key-shaped sword I’d pulled from the dungeon. Naturally, he wouldn’t recognize it.

Instead of explaining, I just smiled faintly and said,

“Do you know what a lich is?”
“Hm? A lich? Sure, I’ve heard of them. A monster from the records, right? Why do you ask?”
“Oh, so a lich is a monster to you?”
“Well, you can’t really call one a mage anymore — not when it’s no longer human. But wait, what does that have to do with your sword…?”
“I bought it at an antique shop. The owner said it once belonged to a lich.”
“Ah, so that’s why you brought it up. That shopkeeper sounds like a crook.”

The moment I mentioned “antique shop,” Oskar lost all interest.
No — actually, he looked a little annoyed.
Not because he thought the sword was worthless, but for a different reason.

“You’re still young, so you might not know — but liches were mages once. A lich is a sorcerer reborn as a skeleton after death. A lich’s sword, huh… what nonsense.”

He patted my shoulder and said with conviction,

“When you’ve made it big someday, we’ll go back and give that shopkeeper a piece of our mind. I’ll go with you. Deal?”
“Yes… yes, sir!”

Honestly, they were a strange bunch.

Even the closest mercenary groups usually act more like drinking buddies than family — but Oskar…

He feels like family.

Maybe that’s Herter’s secret to attracting good people.

As I was lost in that thought, Oskar looked ahead and added,

“Since we’re on the topic — one more thing about liches.”
“What’s that?”
“The records say that anyone who defeats a lich without killing it, and earns its loyalty, gains infinite mana. Since a lich is free from the cycle of life and death, it can create endless mana as long as it has blood to fuel it.”
“Surely you don’t believe that.”
“It’s absurd, but who can say it’s false? Liches haven’t been seen for hundreds of years.”

Oskar tugged at his mustache and grinned with childlike curiosity.

“Well, if we ever meet one — we’ll ask!”
“Deal, Oskar.”
“Ha! Watch out, lich!”

And the carriage rolled on.

Clatter!

With the twitching skull in my bag along for the ride.

[You lunatic! You only brought my head?!]

The voice echoed in my mind — telepathy magic.

I answered silently,

[Keep quiet.]
[You deranged fool! How did I end up with you of all people?!]
[So tell me — Oskar said you can create infinite mana as long as you have blood. Is that true?]
[Of course it’s true! But what’s it to you, you muscle-brained oaf?!]
[…]
[Ha! Speechless, aren’t you? This skull once held the greatest mind in the Kingdom of Vanika, you know! Just because you beat me in one argument doesn’t—]
[You’re gonna be my rice bowl when we reach the inn.]
[…]

Yeah.

The future is changing, bit by bit.

***

After some time, Oskar and I finally joined the main force of the Herter Mercenary Corps.

I’d expected to see a crowd of mercenaries — but for hours, I’d only seen two people.

Oskar, the so-called commander who seemed to have no authority whatsoever.

And a dark-skinned woman with long violet hair — Leila.

“Leila, come on, not in front of the kid…”
“No. Even you, Commander, follow the rules. That’s our code.”
“Can’t we just gather everyone and discuss it? If everyone agrees, we can amend the rules!”
“‘Everyone’ includes our fallen comrades. You plan to bring them back as undead to ask their opinion?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
“Anyway — no means no.”

Clearly, Leila was the by-the-book type, and she wasn’t happy that Oskar had brought me in unilaterally.

Normally, I’d keep quiet and act my age. But my tongue was itching too much to resist.

“You’re being a bit harsh, aren’t you?”
“…What?”

And just like that, I’d done it.

I jumped down from the wagon and faced her.

“Do you really have to be that strict about the rules?”
“Of course. Every rule exists for a reason. We call that reason honor.”
“Strange. You say you follow your group’s rules so faithfully — yet ignore the laws of the kingdom?”
“…Watch your mouth, boy. We follow the law, too. Don’t lump us in with thugs.”

Her jaw tightened.
She thought I was provoking her — but I wasn’t.

“Well?”

I’d just remembered someone — a chatterbox lawyer I’d once known in another life, who’d been kicked out of the royal court for bribery.

Drawing from those vivid memories, I started quoting him.

“The Royal Law of Arms, Section Three — shoulder guards must conceal curvature, and alloys containing Schwantz metal must not exceed thirty percent.”
“What are you—”
“Violation leads to immediate detainment. Next — the Grooming Statutes. Violet hair is prohibited in the northern provinces, as it resembles the fur of the Ossilcian bear. And since we’re in the north, that means your hair color alone could earn you a mandatory shaving sentence.”
“I—what?!”
“The Rural Roadway Act also says no individual of exceptional physical ability shall occupy more than half the width of a public road with a stationary carriage. This is a public route, even if it’s dirt. Court precedent confirms it. Penalty: forfeiture of all mission pay.”
“You— you little…!”
“There are thirteen more clauses if you’d like to hear them?”

I crossed my arms, just like she had.

Leila sputtered, “Those are all ancient laws! Outdated relics! Our rules are different!”
“Exactly.”
“Those old laws should be changed! Quoting them means nothing—”

Her voice trailed off as realization dawned.
I smiled slightly.

“Exactly, Leila. Rules must be followed — but they also have to change with the times.”

I touched the small badges sewn onto her shoulder — probably mementos of fallen comrades. Mercenaries often carried them like that.

“If the values those rules protect are what truly matter — then ironically, the rules themselves must evolve to protect them.”

“Smooth talk for a brat…”

Leila grimaced, then suddenly grabbed Oskar by the ear.

“Commander. Meeting. Now.”
“AAAGH! Pull my mustache instead, Leila!”
“Shut up!”
“Let go! Can’t you just—!”

The two bickered and stumbled off into a nearby house, slamming the door behind them.

“….”

And just like that, I was left standing alone.

“…Is he really the commander?”

The Herter Mercenaries… seriously had no sense of hierarchy.

***

“A compromise — you’ll take the entrance test.”

They took me to a wasteland.

No grass, no trees — just a barren expanse of cracked earth.

The mercenaries formed a loose circle around me, and in the center stood Leila.

“You sure you want to do this?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t answer so quickly. Our test is dangerous. That’s your only warning.”
“I’m ready.”

She brushed back her purple hair and shouted to the others,

“Entrance test begins!”

A thunderous roar erupted from the onlookers.
Apparently, this wasn’t a common event.

“The rules are simple,” Leila said. “The necromancer will raise a few ghouls here. You deal with them.”

“…That’s it?”

I felt my shoulders sag a little.

She must’ve seen my disappointment, because she smirked down at me.

“You know where we are, kid?”
“Some random wasteland?”
“Not just any wasteland. This is the Carnage Field.”

The name clicked. I searched my vivid memories for details, but she explained before I could recall.

“One of the main battlefields of the Wildflower War.”
“Ah.”

Of course.

Every mercenary who’s handled relics or loot knows at least that much history.

Back before the continent was unified, when hundreds of kingdoms fought to devour each other — some wars were so great they earned their own chapters in history books.

The Wildflower War was one of them.
A clash between the Kingdom of the Lily and the Kingdom of the Evening Primrose.

Their countless banners had bloomed across the land — a war of flowers.

“So the dead buried here are…”

“Soldiers. Veterans. Men who lived and died by the sword.”

In other words — killers.
And since this was a major battleground, they were likely knights.

“Knights who knew blood.”

Not the pampered knights of this peaceful era, but blades in human form.

“So? Still want to try?”
“…”

It was harsh — cruel, even.

For a sixteen-year-old kid with a sword, it was suicide. Even for a skilled mercenary, fighting several undead knights would be no joke.

“What’s the usual test like?”
“Same thing — just with hundreds instead of a few.”
“…Yeah, that sounds about right for Herter.”
“Oskar said you had potential, so we toned it down. Well? One last chance to back out.”
“…”

I drew my sword silently — and smiled.

Ghouls, huh? With this key-sword, they’ll be no trouble.

Undead are actually quite rare. You only see them in specific dungeons, or when a necromancer’s around.

I’d been planning to use the key-sword as just a sturdy blade — but since the opportunity came knocking…

May as well show them why it’s called an anti-undead weapon.

Leila frowned.

“Are you smiling? Are you doing this or not?”
“I drew my sword, didn’t I? Let’s do this.”
“Fine. Don’t regret it.”

Her grin turned wicked.

And then—

Slash!

She drew her dagger and cut a deep gash across my arm.

Blood sprayed in an arc, splattering across the sand.

“And that’s the final part of the test.”
“W-what the—?!”
“You’ll fight the ghouls with that wounded arm.”

This crazy woman!

No wonder she called it dangerous!

“Begin, Beishil!”

The necromancer — Beishil — started chanting in a deep, eerie voice.

Purple energy swept across the plain.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Leila just smirked and ruffled my hair.

“A mercenary can’t panic at something like this. You never know when or where death will come.”

Then, with mock sweetness:

“Last chance to quit, I mean it.”

But what came out of my mouth wasn’t what she expected.

“Quit? Hell no, you idiot!”
“…What?”
“You got blood all over my bag!”

Her face froze.

“That’s what you’re worried about?”
“You moron!”

I lunged for the bag — but it was too late.

The cloth was already soaked, and an icy aura began seeping out.

Inside that bag was the lich’s skull.

And now that it had drunk my blood—

[Ooh, dark magic! Nice! Don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll help, kid! Let’s crank this up a notch!]

It amplified the necromancer’s spell — wildly.

GUUUUUUUMMM!

The ground shook violently.

“What the hell—?!”
“Beishil! What did you do?!”
“I didn’t— this isn’t—!”
“Draw your weapons! Something’s coming!”
“This mana surge— impossible!”

CRACK!

The earth split open.

From the fissures, countless hands reached out.

“KRAAAAH!”
“GYAAAH!”
“SKREEEEEH!”
“RAAAARGH!”

A tide of ghouls — tens of thousands of them.

And beyond the cracks, eyes glowed crimson in the dark.

The madness of the Wildflower War flooded the land once again — the same hatred that had blighted this soil so nothing would grow for centuries.

“What… what is this?”

Even Leila, who’d been so confident before, looked horrified.

“What’s happening—?”
“Forget the test! You should’ve told me about this!”
“I—uh—”

Before she could even react, Oskar appeared and grabbed her by the arm.

“Snap out of it, Leila! Kill as many as you can before they climb out!”

And as chaos consumed the plain—

[Hey, lich! Can’t you stop this?!]
[Once it starts, it can’t stop… sorry?]

—I was left alone, bleeding.

“Hah. Figures.”

A bitter laugh escaped me.

“Something always has to go wrong.”

Even knowing the future doesn’t mean everything will go your way.

Then I remembered something my father — head of the House of Prophets — used to say.

“A small future is always swallowed by a greater one.”

Couldn’t agree more.

I steadied myself, and drove the key-sword into the ground.

“Then let’s cover this mess with something bigger. My future.”

From the vivid memories in my mind:

— Key-sword. Anti-undead weapon.

And its final entry:

When it once fell into the hands of a necromancer, it played a “decisive role” during an alchemical disaster in the capital — when hordes of skeletons broke loose.

According to the witness—

“He twisted it like this.”

Crack!

I gripped the hilt and twisted, as if unlocking a door.

“My gatekeeper, I summon thee.”

[Wha— you know how to use it?!]

The lich’s shock rang in my mind. But I ignored him and poured all my mana into the blade.

“Coffin of Twilight—”

The sword trembled in my hand.

“—close.”

GUUUUUUUUUMMMM!

A brilliant violet light erupted from the key-sword, sweeping across the entire wasteland.