The Shadowed Legacy of the Soulless Messenger [EN]: Chapter 91

-Swish! The arrow, tearing through the wind, accurately pierced the head of a soldier who was driving civilians from the rear. “Gasp!” Midiam fired arrows in quick succession, targeting the soldiers who were pushing people to the front lines, and each one she shot fell. “Shield bearers!” The soldiers, who had been using the people as shields without much caution because they were usually out of arrow range, were now terrified and raised their shields to protect their necks. The moment the smiles disappeared from the faces of those who had been laughing while putting others in danger. “Ah ha ha ha!” Midiam burst into laughter, standing proudly on the ramparts. Yes, that man was right. Protecting the people is beautiful. Ishmael saw nothing but pure beauty in Midiam, who was still naive to the world’s filth and only righteous. A personification of pride, courage, and pure passion, sparkling under the morning sunlight. How could one not be captivated? But what cast a shadow over this beauty was that man’s influence. Knowing how much Azadin had influenced Midiam, Ishmael couldn’t fully enjoy this moment. More than anything, taking down a few soldiers wouldn’t improve the situation. Rather, this feat would only worsen her and Ishmael’s position. ********* While Midiam was blocking the enemy soldiers’ approach, Ishmael asked the soldiers inside the fortress to open the gate for a short time. “Are you crazy, opening the gate?” “Who is this little brat!” “…No, wait a minute. This guy is one of them.” “One of what?” “The Messenger Clan.” “Huh? What?! A Messenger? You mean those soulless monsters?” “……” “Hey, they can hear you.” ‘If they’re not deaf, they can all hear. Seriously, these Hybrids people…’ At Ishmael’s insistence, the soldiers reluctantly opened a side gate, not the main one, for a moment. Ishmael handed out small daggers to the people. Then, the people who had been driven to attack the ramparts cut the ropes with the daggers and entered the fortress. However, not all of them came in. “Why aren’t you coming in? Cut the ropes on your ankles with the knives I gave you and come in!” “Our families are being held hostage!” “If we go inside the gate now, they will kill our children.” They refused to take refuge inside the gate, but they also half-heartedly chipped away at the gate with their weapons. While Midiam was blocking the soldiers’ approach with arrows, they were intentionally slacking off. But if the soldiers threatened them with spears and swords, they would quickly rush in again. “I guess there’s no choice. Close it.” Ishmael had the gate closed again and stepped back. ********* Like a needle in a pocket that pokes out on its own, the story of these young boys and girls naturally spread as they showed such prowess. “A Messenger Clan?” “Yeah. You know those women who escaped from the bandits over there? That’s what they’re saying…” “If they’re Messengers, aren’t they soulless blasphemers? But… they’re pretty?” They were talking carelessly about Ishmael and Midiam, and the story reached Ishmael’s ears. ‘Damn it. The women we rescued are talking about us.’ The people Ishmael and Midiam had rescued and brought here seemed to have no idea what discretion was. If people had any sense, they would keep their mouths shut. Seeing them suddenly say, ‘Those kids are Messengers,’ made his blood boil. Of course, he knew it in his head. Those women were just ordinary civilians. They hadn’t received combat training, and many were illiterate due to lack of proper education. It was absurd to expect such people to be thoughtful. They simply answered when asked, and in the process, they carelessly revealed Midiam and Ishmael’s identities. “Th-the Messenger Clan, that’s, that’s great!” “Save us!” The soldiers who were supposed to protect this fortress, upon learning that Ishmael and Midiam were Messengers, instead relied on them for protection. They were doing so now because Count Rantaric’s army was threatening them right in front of their noses, but once this threat passed, they would not forget that Ishmael and Midiam were Messengers and would surely tell someone. No matter how much Ishmael thought about it, he couldn’t like these Hybrids people. But Midiam was different. “Bring me arrows and a bow.” Midiam decided to receive supplies from them and fired arrows in quick succession, threatening the soldiers who were protecting themselves with shields and forcing them to retreat. “If you shoot too many arrows, your hands will get hurt. You already had a pretty hard march last night…” Ishmael made Midiam rest and stood on the watchtower himself. “Take a breather. It would be good if you could get some sleep, if possible.” “Okay, thank you, Ishmael.” Midiam left the watch to Ishmael and stepped back. A soldier-looking person scooped water from a water container with a ladle and handed it to Midiam. “A-are you okay, miss?” “Of course.” Midiam willingly accepted the water and drank it. It might have been poisoned, but Midiam willingly drank the water, showing that she trusted them. ********* Until noon, Count Rantaric’s soldiers occasionally approached to test the waters, only to be hit by Ishmael’s arrows and retreat. This was repeated over and over. Ishmael rested while holding his bow, and when the surrounding soldiers woke him up, he would get up and fire arrows. Both he and Midiam were exhausted from the forced march last night, but just threatening the enemy with arrows and preventing them from rushing in recklessly was a great help to their morale. But… ‘They’re planning something.’ Ishmael noticed from the enemy’s reaction that they had another plan. ‘Even if they didn’t bring siege weapons, if they really wanted to capture this fortress, they would have thrown people at it and captured it somehow. The fact that they’re just standing here… Ah?’ Ishmael suddenly felt a cold killing intent behind him and turned around. There, a man wearing a Messenger mask was standing on the watchtower. It wasn’t Azadin. He was quite tall, but this man was as tall as Azadin and had an enormous build. He was so huge that he couldn’t wear the Messenger Clan’s Moon-Crescent Bow [a specialized bow used by the Messenger Clan] on his waist and had it strapped to his leg like a greave [armor that protects the shin]. It was impressive that he carried two bows on each leg, a total of four. “Hello, little one. So you’re one of our Ara’el [a term for the Messenger Clan’s servants].” “Wh-who are you?” “Hmm. But you’re not Messengers, you’re servants, right? Where are the Messengers? Who is the Messenger managing you?” “We are servants of the 108th Messenger, Azadin.” “Azadin… you mean Azadin of Muan?” He was surprised to hear Azadin’s name. “Oh, impressive? Even that guy has servants. You seem pretty smart for servants. It’s a waste for Azadin.” “Who are you?” “This is disappointing. Don’t you know me? Everyone among my peers knows me. I am the 94th Messenger, Kahsan.” “Kahsan…” “I should be famous if you know me as Kahsan, the bow breaker.” Kahsan said this and flexed his arm to show off his muscles. They were terrifying muscles to look at. Rather than a human, he resembled the lean flesh of a horse or a huge hunting dog. His appearance was like savagery and violence molded into a human form. “……” He was strong and good at breaking Moon-Crescent Bows. That was the meaning of his nickname, but for a Messenger, breaking a bow was not a compliment. Breaking a bow was also an insult, meaning a careless or unskilled person. “This is troublesome. Count Rantaric is our client, you see.” “Are you saying the Count is a petitioner? But…” The Gold Coin Petition System [a system where people can petition the Emperor by paying a gold coin] was the Emperor’s wish to resolve the grievances of the people. If it were used for territorial disputes and power struggles between nobles, wouldn’t the Emperor’s wish be in vain? When the illegitimate son of the Border Count of Salas, Tarki, became a Gold Coin petitioner, Azadin expressed his dissatisfaction for that very reason. It was very rare for a noble to become a Gold Coin petitioner. It was even more unlikely that someone like Count Rantaric, who openly started a war out of greed for territory, would be a Gold Coin petitioner. “Of course, he’s not a Gold Coin petitioner. But he can be a client for other reasons, right?” “……” Ishmael frowned at Kahsan’s words. In other words, Kahsan was colluding with Count Rantaric for reasons other than a Gold Coin contract. “So, can you step aside? Where is Azadin? I want to talk to Azadin. Isn’t he the younger brother of Ara’el?” “That’s…” “Hmm. It seems he’s not here. What a joke. He makes his servants guard the fortress while he’s not here?” Kahsan was frustrated that he couldn’t communicate. “Well, it would be an insult to be hindered by the likes of Azadin, so shall I just take care of you first?” At the same time, Kahsan charged. -Flower, Bird, Wind, Moon, Twilight! His huge body shook like a ghost, charging with afterimages. It was a perfect surprise attack. But Ishmael was prepared. ‘Considering Azadin’s reputation, even I would want to resolve things with force if my work and Azadin’s work clashed.’ Ishmael jumped off the ramparts to avoid Kahsan’s approach, grabbed the Salas flag hanging on the outer wall of the fortress, swung around, and returned to the ramparts. “Wow! Not bad?” Kahsan was impressed to see Ishmael skillfully avoid his charge. “Kahsan!” Then, a girl’s voice was heard from behind. Midiam, who had been resting, had woken up. “Hmm!” Kahsan turned to where the voice came from, but there, her discarded coat was trembling and talking on its own. It was the magic of Flower, Bird, Wind, Moon, the Cuckoo [a type of magic that allows the user to control objects]. “Aha!” An arrow flew towards his temple. Kahsan spread his hand and knocked the incoming arrow aside. At that moment, an electric shock pierced Kahsan’s body. It was an arrow with Wall Thunder [a type of magic that imbues arrows with electricity] on it. “Oh!” Kahsan was laughing even as his limbs went limp from the electric shock. “Even if you fall to me, you don’t have to be too ashamed. Because I am Midiam of Etar!” Midiam aimed another arrow at Kahsan’s neck, which was paralyzed by the electric shock. But Kahsan moved as if he had never been hit by the electric shock, dodging Midiam’s arrow attack. And… “Etar, you say?” Kahsan kicked the ground, and with a roar, the bricks on the upper part of the ramparts rose. Even though they were bricks, each one was a large stone the size of a person’s leg. “Ugh!?” As Midiam panicked, Kahsan had already approached her. In a hurry, Midiam drew her sword and swung it. But Kahsan simply struck down Midiam’s sword with the edge of his hand, breaking it, and grabbed her, throwing her out of the fortress. The height of this fortress watchtower was not one that even a Messenger could simply jump down from.