The Shadowed Legacy of the Soulless Messenger [EN]: Chapter 226

As the gold coin settled within the triangle, the magic circle flared, emitting a soft, ethereal light.

“Ah, Lady Izmilla! Why act so unilaterally! The responsibility is far too heavy for you to bear alone. If only I could share even a fraction of that burden, it would be the glory of my family, the greatest blessing of my life. Why won’t you grant me such an opportunity? Though I am, admittedly, a bit….”

The clerk, MacDougall, continued to ramble. In this situation, words poured out of him endlessly, like a broken dam.

“Pfft. Look at these knights. In the end, it’s always the lower-ranking ones who get stuck with the blame, isn’t it?”

The female bandit, who had been observing, chuckled. With her abundant brown hair and freckles, she always seemed to be smiling, a stark contrast to her situation. She was a prisoner sentenced to labor and re-education by the Rescue Knights for murder.

“Watch your mouth, bandit. If you mock the honor of the Knights again, I won’t forgive you.”

“Really? Looks like you’re the ones about to die. What are you going to do if you don’t forgive me?”

“Sir MacDougall, discipline her.”

“Understood.”

“…Wait. Won’t you give me a chance to apologize?”

The female bandit seemed to change her mind as MacDougall approached the cart where she was confined.

Meanwhile, the hail of blood continued to intensify, a gruesome rain that seemed to seep into everything.

As the prisoners huddled inside the iron cage, a thick fog enveloped them, adding to the growing sense of dread.

*********

A ghost was running through the darkness of the night.

It took the form of a Kerim mountain goat [a breed of goat known for its hardiness], galloping across the mountains and fields, treading on the darkness of the night. This ghostly goat was much faster than it had been in life, a spectral blur against the inky backdrop.

A young man clung to the back of this ghostly goat.

The young man’s name was Azadin, an imperial herald and a newly appointed member of the Rescue Knights.

“It’s fast, but it’s cold!”

Azadin, wearing a bird mask, instinctively buried himself in the Kerim mountain goat’s fur. On cold days, riding a Kerim mountain goat, burying oneself in its fur was a way to ward off the cold. It was a common practice among the mountain folk.

However, in the case of the ghost goat, it only brought a bone-chilling cold. Startled, Azadin pulled his hands out of the ghost goat’s fur and sat up, shivering.

Then, a cold wind assaulted him. Winter was over, but the cold still lingered, casting its icy shadow. While walking, one might not notice it, but when cutting through the wind like an arrow, its force felt like it could slice through flesh.

“This won’t do.”

Azadin clung to the ghost goat’s back, trying to avoid the wind as much as possible, his body hunched against the biting chill.

Then, the ghost goat stopped. In the distance, he could hear people screaming and shouting, and the clashing of weapons, a cacophony of violence.

“Did I come to the right place?!”

At that moment, the ghost goat he was riding scattered like smoke and disappeared, leaving Azadin momentarily suspended in the air.

Normally, if the mount suddenly disappeared, one would plummet to the ground, but Azadin changed direction in mid-air and landed softly, his movements fluid and practiced.

“Looks like I came to the right place.”

Azadin cautiously walked towards the sound of clashing weapons, his senses on high alert.

Amidst the hail of blood and thick fog, the undead began to appear, their forms grotesque and unsettling.

Whether they had been dug up from the nearby village cemetery, the decaying corpses were armed with makeshift weapons such as clubs, stones, pickaxes, and plows. They were hardly a threat to the trained knights, but that wasn’t the only danger. The sheer number of them was overwhelming.

From within the blood hail, grotesque red leeches wriggled and moved, attaching themselves to people’s bodies, their movements unsettling and predatory. Moreover, it was dark all around, and the thick fog made it difficult to identify those who were attacking, creating a chaotic and terrifying scene.

One might be fighting the undead without a second thought, only to suddenly feel dizzy and realize that a large leech was attached to their arm or leg, sucking their blood.

“Ugh.”

“L-let’s retreat for now!”

Belljuan, the leader of the pilgrimage, shouted, his voice laced with panic.

“What about the prisoners?”

Izmilla, a wealthy young lady clad in expensive armor, asked, causing the pilgrimage leader’s face to contort in frustration.

‘Seriously? Why ask that in this situation? Do I have to be the one to say we should abandon them?!’

Belljuan felt anger towards the wealthy young lady who only spoke frustrating words, seemingly oblivious to the dire situation. However, he remembered what Bishop Sehnath had told him before the pilgrimage, his words echoing in his mind.

‘No matter what happens, ensure Lady Izmilla returns safely.’

She must be a relative of someone high up. Perhaps she was Bishop Sehnath’s daughter, or even a niece of the Emperor himself.

‘She must have done something big. A Seramite longsword [a type of sword known for its sharpness and durability] and an Azure Steel shield. Her armor is dwarven-made too.’

Considering her background, even if he was angry at Izmilla, he couldn’t show it. He had to maintain a facade of respect and obedience.

“Open the prison!”

“Yes! Understood. You mean to open the prison doors, correct? Although the re-education by the Rescue Knights’ noble ideals and beautiful doctrines is not yet complete, you have decided to trust their inner goodness in this crisis and grant them freedom so that they can ensure their own safety.”

“……”

MacDougall’s words were too long, but thankfully, he was opening the prison as he spoke, his actions finally matching his verbose pronouncements. However, the prisoners inside were terrified, their eyes wide with fear.

“Eek.”

“A-are you telling us to come out without weapons? Are you telling us to die?”

“As for weapons, I have prepared these.”

MacDougall threw something from the floor of the prison cart. It was a fork used for meals. It was made of wood, not metal, so it would be better to use bare hands. The prisoners looked at the forks with a mixture of disbelief and despair.

“You call this a weapon?!”

“Of course. In the re-education center, they are only provided during meals and then taken away. Because even these weapons can be dangerous. Although they are tools for prisoners, who are steeped in evil, to project their violence onto each other, if you have the desire to be re-educated and the yearning for virtue, they will surely become great tools of destiny to destroy evil. Believe and follow. And may mercy be upon you in the name of the Triune Archangels [a reference to a religious belief]. Ah, it comes. It comes! Oh, merciful angels! Look upon us! May the heavenly flames burn away the evil and illuminate the darkness….”

“Ugh! Damn Rescue Knights!”

As MacDougall became excited and began to sing a hymn, the prisoners, enraged and desperate, began to flee from the prison, their fear overriding their caution. However, they were immediately pursued by the undead and hounds, their escape turning into a desperate flight for survival.

“Oh no!”

Seeing this, Izmilla tried to save the prisoners, but MacDougall stopped her, his hand firmly on her arm.

“Stop, Lady Izmilla! They are bait. It doesn’t make sense for you to step forward for bait!”

“But their target is me….”

“The prisoners will be safer if they leave you. If you save them, they will stick to you and die with you.”

“Ah….”

Izmilla heard those words and finally lowered her sword, her face a mask of conflicted emotions. But she didn’t seem happy about it, her eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and frustration.

“Save your strength, Lady Izmilla.”

“Then retreat!”

In the end, the pilgrimage abandoned the prisoner cart and climbed up a high hill, seeking refuge from the chaos below.

After that, the Holy Knights abandoned some of the prisoners and farmers as bait each time they encountered the enemy’s attacks, using them as a distraction to escape, their actions a stark contrast to their supposed vows of protection.

However, they were gradually being driven to higher ground, their retreat becoming more and more desperate.

Since the fog was settling below, fleeing to higher ground was a logical choice, but it was also what their attackers expected, a trap laid out for them.

“Leader, this won’t do.”

Izmilla, unable to contain her frustration, spoke, her voice sharp with urgency.

“Ugh! I know that! What do you want me to do?!”

“Let’s settle things with the enemies here. We can’t keep running forever.”

“Nonsense! Even if you look at how they are attacking us, these guys are at least….”

However, the pilgrimage leader could not finish his sentence, his words cut short by a sudden and brutal attack.

-Thwack!

A massive javelin, the kind used in ballistas [a large, ancient siege weapon], struck Belljuan’s torso, skewering him like a skewer. The Hospitaller-Paladin died instantly without making a sound, his body falling to the ground with a sickening thud.

“L-Leader!”

“It’s dangerous! Lady Izmilla!”

MacDougall restrained Izmilla as she tried to step forward, his grip tight on her arm. Then, another javelin flew over her head, a near miss that sent shivers down their spines.

-Clang!

The javelin hit a granite rock, causing sparks to fly, looking like lightning from afar, a testament to the immense power behind the attack.

Everyone was terrified by the immense power, their faces pale with fear. Except for one person, Izmilla herself, who had been threatened by the javelin, her eyes narrowed with determination.

“The enemy’s attacks are too powerful, so sticking your head out is the same as suicide. The laws of the Knights forbid suicide, so please be wise….”

“You evil bastards!”

Izmilla pushed away MacDougall, who was trying to stop her, and drew her Seramite longsword, causing flames to erupt from it, the holy fire licking at the blade. The holy flames, the heavenly flames that burn away evil and enact justice, had taken hold of the sword, a beacon of hope in the encroaching darkness.

In this dark age where the forces of evil were rampant, the flames of that sword might seem like a sacred guide, but….

“Are you crazy?”

The female bandit jumped out and slammed Izmilla’s head into the ground, her actions swift and brutal.

-Whoosh!

Another javelin flew towards her, narrowly missing, a reminder of the constant danger they were in.

“Are you trying to get yourself shot? Put out the fire, the fire!”

“But….”

“Hey! Bro!”

“Yeah, sis.”

“Direction, that way!”

“Got it.”

The female bandit’s brother, a huge man, picked up a javelin that was stuck in the wall, his movements surprisingly agile for his size.

In his hand, he had a long stick-like object that he had somehow obtained. He tied a rope to it, hooked the end of the javelin to the knot, and twisted his body to build up power, his muscles bulging with the effort.

“Hup!”

The huge man threw the javelin, and it flew through the fog, a dark projectile disappearing into the gloom.

-Thwack!

“Screeeech!”

A gruesome scream was heard in the distance, a sound that sent shivers down their spines.

“Good. Judging by the sound, it’s not a complete ghost. Then we can kill it.”

The female bandit said that and searched the body of the recently deceased pilgrimage leader, taking his longsword and wallet, her actions pragmatic and opportunistic.

“What are you doing?”

“We need weapons.”

“No, but why the wallet!?”

“Well, obviously to deliver the inheritance to his family, right?”

“Huh? Still….”

It sounded plausible, but there was no way this woman, who had been caught for robbery, would do such a thing. But Izmilla had no way to argue, her mind still reeling from the recent events.

“Good. This is a pretty good sword.”

The female bandit handed the large sword to her brother and took a hand axe and a dagger for herself, her movements efficient and practiced.

“Hey, princess!”

“Yes?”

“You answered, so you must be aware that you’re a princess.”

“Ah, that’s not it. I’m just a trainee knight.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. I’ll help you, so no matter what, you have to pardon us and give us a reward.”

“Yes?”

“There are some pretty skilled guys among the prisoners, you know? Get their cooperation.”

Of course, they would also benefit. No, since they were helping the knights first, they would receive the biggest reward. However, the female bandit omitted that part, her motives shrouded in a veil of self-interest.

“That’s not something I can decide. The leader….”

“That leader is dead, so you’re the highest-ranking one, right?”

“No, I’m just an Errant [a knight in training]. There are senior knights besides me….”

Izmilla said that and looked around. Just a moment ago, the Holy Knights had been with her, but for some reason, they were all scattered and nowhere to be seen, their absence a glaring testament to their cowardice.

“Huh?”

“Where are they? Those senior knights?”

“They were definitely here a moment ago… Everyone! Where are you?!”

But there was no answer. All the Holy Knights had already died or fled, leaving her and MacDougall behind, their supposed protectors abandoning them in their time of need. In fact, even before this attack, they had been running away under the cover of night whenever they were a little far from the pilgrimage, their true colors finally revealed.