Chapter 55

Chapter 55: Chapter 55

When ten people gathered, roughly two of them would be brave. Three at most, even by a generous estimate.

If those ten people fought another group, the two or three courageous ones would generally take the lead while the rest merely followed behind them.

If those two or three brave people died, the others would naturally scatter.

Therefore, when fighting ten enemies, there was no need to kill all ten.

Two would suffice. Perhaps three.

Once the core fighters were neutralized or driven away, the battle was effectively won.

The death of a single high-ranking adventurer was a severe blow and a considerable burden to a guild. After all, it was these high-ranking adventurers who determined the guild’s reputation and prestige.

But when a hundred brave people gathered, one among them would be a hero.

On a night illuminated by an unusually bright full moon, ten high-ranking adventurers had died at once.

And more than a few had already died in the preceding duels.

Of course, they had not all belonged to the same guild, but it was still no small number.

Consequently, the attempt to seize the Kites Highlands ended in failure.

All because of a single boy hero.

The guild coalition, whose members had never trusted one another much in the first place, dissolved, and each guild withdrew from the war.

They now had more than enough problems of their own.

They had meddled because the spoils looked tempting, only to get badly burned and retreat.

But the war was not over.

The Hagen Guild and the rest of the guild coalition had merely come to pick up whatever scraps they could.

The Beringen Guild’s true enemies were elsewhere.

They were the guilds surrounding Siegfringer, led by Brabant.

That was also why the Beringen Guild’s command had been unable to provide proper support to the Kites Highlands.

They could not deploy their forces against those merely looking to snatch up the scraps when they had true enemies to confront elsewhere.

But those scavenging guilds were too powerful to ignore completely, leaving the Beringen Guild with a considerable headache.

Then the boy hero appeared.

News of the young hero spread beyond the guilds and reached the civilian population.

The tale of how he had eliminated the infamous Ernberg Five, fought twelve duels, and cut down ten vengeful swordsmen passed from mouth to mouth.

As rumors often did, the story grew with each retelling, becoming tragic at times and exhilarating at others.

In taverns and on the streets, children and adults alike whispered the young hero’s name. Rich and poor, highborn and lowborn, from prostitutes to noble ladies, they all spoke it.

Ricky.

Ricky.

Ricky...

There was power in that name.

Hearing the boy’s name—or speaking it aloud—made people’s hearts pound with admiration, anguish, and exhilaration.

Of course, people believed what they wanted to believe, so much of what they imagined bore little resemblance to the actual events or the person involved.

Then how did the owner of the name so many people whispered feel now?

What was in his heart?

Only he could know.

And it was also something he had to endure entirely alone.

The wind blew, making the red cloak flutter.

Rickart’s back looked somewhat precarious as he stood at the edge of the cliff.

If he misplaced a foot or someone pushed his unguarded back, he could fall straight over the edge.

Perhaps he had not considered the danger, or perhaps he simply did not care.

His hair blowing in the wind, Rickart gazed toward the gentle ridge in the distance.

"Ricky."

A familiar voice came from behind him.

Rickart turned around and saw Boribori.

"Did you fight with Marie?"

A smile naturally appeared on Rickart’s face.

Boribori had probably asked because things between him and Marie had seemed awkward lately.

"No."

"No? Hmm... It doesn’t look like nothing happened."

Boribori furrowed his brow, placed a hand on his chin, and sank into thought with a serious expression.

Rickart found his innocent appearance endearing and chuckled.

Still, he did not want to discuss every detail of his relationship with Marie.

Then again, perhaps it would be all right to tell Boribori a little.

"It’s because we can’t become anything closer than friends. It’ll probably be fine with time. It isn’t something I can do anything about."

Boribori’s eyes widened.

"Closer than friends? Is that possible?"

"I don’t know. I’m not sure myself."

"So there are things even Ricky doesn’t know. If something is troubling you, tell me. I’ll listen."

Before Rickart knew it, Boribori had matured into a dependable young man.

Perhaps it had started after they met the Nameless Man.

Rickart and Boribori were no longer merely someone who led and someone who followed.

They were now friends who supported each other as equals.

"...All right. Thank you."

"You’re still going to be friends with Marie, though, right?"

"Hey... You..."

"I hope you are too. But I can’t force you to—"

"I’m going to tell her."

"What? Hey. Hey! Wait!"

Boribori turned around and ran off with light footsteps.

He did not look back even when Rickart urgently called after him.

Marie was sitting beside Delphy near the defensive tower, talking to her.

It seemed as though she were either seeking advice or being comforted.

Delphy gently stroked Marie’s hair.

Boribori ran over to Marie and began talking, eventually pointing toward Rickart.

Rickart’s face instantly grew hot when he saw it.

Telling Boribori now felt like the greatest mistake of his life.

Bori, you betrayed me...

Marie, however, showed no particular change in expression.

She merely glanced impassively at Rickart before turning her head toward the gentle ridge in the distance.

Boribori ran back to Rickart.

"Marie said she understands. I think you can keep being friends."

"...Never mind."

There was no point becoming angry with him for something he had done out of kindness and concern.

Rickart merely decided never to tell Boribori about matters like this again.

He looked down from the cliff.

The once-bustling crowds had disappeared, leaving only rubbish scattered throughout the valley.

That meant there was nothing left to see.

It also meant that the fighting here was over.

The Kites Highlands had never been inhabited and rarely received visitors, so once the fighting ended, the area became as quiet as it had been before.

From a strategic perspective, they had successfully defended the rear.

Now Rickart wondered whether there was any need to continue defending the place.

It had been four days since they sent news of their victory, and Rickart and his friends were waiting for someone from command to arrive.

That person arrived after noon, climbing the Kites Highlands with soft footsteps through the short grass.

To Rickart’s surprise, it was someone he knew.

"Sandy?"

"Well, look at that. My young junior has grown quite important, making his senior run errands for him."

How long had it been?

Two years?

Sandy had not changed at all as she spoke playfully with a bright smile.

She was still a beautiful woman with slightly upturned eyes and brown hair pulled tightly back.

Glad to see her again, Rickart gave her a light hug.

The moment they separated, however, he sensed an ominous presence and looked around.

Marie stood with her head lowered, huffing to herself as though trying to suppress her anger.

Realizing his mistake, Rickart hurriedly explained.

"Um, this is Sandy. She’s the person who escorted me from Rheinfort to the Academy. That’s all. She’s like an older sister I know. A senior. She’s just my senior."

Without realizing it, Rickart sounded as though he were making excuses.

Marie kept her head lowered and drew several deep breaths, barely managing to calm herself.

Sandy looked between Rickart and Marie, immediately understood the situation, and grinned.

"Didn’t I tell you? You looked like you’d make several girls cry."

Rickart could only smile awkwardly, unable to think of a response.

It wasn’t several...

Of course, if Daisy were included, she had made two girls cry.

Rickart, however, had completely forgotten about Daisy.

Like the experienced senior adventurer she was, Sandy offered Marie some seasoned advice.

"Don’t make your feelings so obvious. That’ll only make other girls pursue him more aggressively."

It did not seem like the right time to offer such advice.

Marie glared at Sandy with the sharp gaze she displayed during duels and snapped,

"What about me? Don’t pretend you know me."

"Hmm... It looks like you were rejected recently. You need to let some of that hostility go. It’s a shame to see such a pretty girl acting this way."

"What? Ha!"

Marie appeared too dumbfounded to speak.

She was still too young to contend with Sandy in a war of words.

Feeling as though a cold sweat might break out, Rickart hurriedly tried to defuse the situation by introducing his other friends.

A woman’s intuition is more frightening than a sharpened blade.

"Shouldn’t we start with introductions? This is Boribori. This is our clan leader, Volka. Over here is Delphy, and... this is Marie."

Sandy regarded Marie with a gaze that seemed both amused and affectionate, then turned to the others.

"I’m Sandy of the Gamecocks Clan. I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Volka."

"About me? Not Ricky?"

"You lead the clan Ricky belongs to. How could you not be famous? And Mr. Boribori, you’re much cuter than I expected. I heard you enjoy chopping people into pieces."

"Um... I don’t enjoy it..."

Perhaps Boribori had suffered the most from the rumors.

People had come to regard him as practically a deranged murderer.

"Anyway, things have been absolutely chaotic lately. Whenever two adventurers get together, all they talk about is your clan. And what was in the water for last year’s graduating class? There’s that person named Ice too. The Master already has his hands full dealing with our enemies, and it seems like he can’t handle all of you on top of that."

"What do you mean he can’t handle us?"

The phrase did not sit well with Rickart.

"The pie is only so large, and perhaps he’s struggling to decide how much of it to give you. I’ve even heard people at headquarters suggesting that they stop assigning you missions. I don’t know the details."

Every organization had its internal politics.

Factions could emerge based on influence and power within the organization.

Through competition, those factions could promote one another’s growth.

But they could also devour the organization from within.

It was a troublesome matter, but unavoidable so long as human beings lived in societies.

It was a problem that arose in every culture and every era.

Factional struggles had existed a thousand years ago and would still exist a thousand years from now.

They would never disappear because the underlying question was always the same: how should limited resources and power be divided?

The Beringen Adventurers’ Guild suffered from the same problem.

There were established clans and high-ranking adventurers who already wielded influence within the Beringen Guild.

Then Rickart and the Viola Clan had suddenly risen to prominence.

The guild had made use of them because the war created an urgent need for their strength.

But now that it finally had room to breathe, the question became how much they should be rewarded.

Giving them too little would breed resentment.

Giving them too much would reduce the share received by the existing factions.

It would have been wonderful if rewards could simply be distributed fairly according to each person’s accomplishments, but the world did not operate so simply.

Two things in the world could make people lose all reason.

Power and money.

Once either became involved, rationality ceased to function.

Situations in which everyone simultaneously became an aggrieved victim and a vicious perpetrator, driving one another into madness, were hardly uncommon.

Kings killed their children, and princes launched rebellions.

When power and money were at stake, human beings became creatures capable of turning against even their own parents and children.

"So?"

Having detected something ominous, Rickart asked the question.

"Leave this place to the pig. The Master wants to see all of you. I came to deliver that message."

The "pig" Sandy referred to was Reinhardt, leader of the Widowmakers Clan.

Perhaps his simple, straightforward way of living made him the wisest of them all.

"How are things on your side? When I visited before, no one would tell me anything."

Volka asked the question.

"At first, they planned to divide the region into three. But that person named Ice performed far better than expected, so they considered dividing it in half instead. Then they heard the situation here had been resolved, and now they seem to think they might be able to take everything if Ricky joins them. At least, that’s how it looks to me. I don’t know exactly what the commanders are thinking."

"...They shouldn’t do that."

Rickart muttered after hearing Sandy’s explanation.

"That isn’t how you wage a war. You establish a clear objective, accomplish it, and then bring the war to a clean conclusion. If they keep dragging things out while thinking, ’Maybe we can take a little more,’ or, ’This still doesn’t feel like enough,’ they’ll end up losing everything they invested."

Rickart had seen numerous operations ruined that way in his previous life.

Whenever something went wrong, that sort of complacent thinking from the commander was always where the problem began.

"I don’t like it either, but what can we do? We aren’t the ones making the decisions. Guilds were never trustworthy. If you place your hopes in one, it will always disappoint you. The only thing you can trust is your clan. That’s how everyone lives. But you’re such an unprecedented case, Ricky, so I honestly don’t know what will happen."

There was no point debating the matter with Sandy, so Rickart held his tongue.

Throughout history, there had been many cases in which accomplishing too much became a problem.

From the perspective of those at the top, it was a problem when their subordinates were incompetent—but it could also be a problem when they were too capable.

Rickart had never met the Guild Master, so he did not know what kind of man he was.

As a result, he could not predict how matters would unfold.

Still, it was not as though he had no one to rely on.

He had been told to make contact if he encountered trouble, so if necessary, it should be all right to do so.

In any case, Rickart ate with Sandy, informed Reinhardt that they were leaving, and then departed the Kites Highlands with everyone.

Their destination was Siegfringer, where Rickart had worked alongside Boribori and the Nameless Man throughout the previous winter.

READ MORE ChapterS HERE : https://beastnovels.com/