Chapter 130

Translator: Willia

This was not the time to be picky about things. There were people waiting, and things that had to be done.

Ricardt was quite fond of the exotic southern city, but he couldn’t stay long.

In the dim dawn, Ricardt packed his things and left the inn. The wind brushing the tip of his nose was rather chilly, perhaps due to the large temperature difference between day and night.

In his backpack were only simple rations, spare clothes, sewing tools, first aid supplies, and the Order of the Flame Knights' reliquary along with a Viking gold bracelet. This was all Ricardt owned, his entire life's weight.

The red cloak fluttered constantly in the sea breeze. Ricardt made his way to the harbor, where sailors were already busily loading cargo since dawn.

He asked them and was directed to a ship named 'Blue Marlin' and walked toward it. In the distance, the sky over the horizon burned red, yellow, and mixed into a violet hue.

When he reached the ship he was to board, the sailors were loading various things. The ship, compared to a large vessel, was small, but compared to a small vessel, it was big. The bow was sharp and sleek in shape.

Ricardt approached them and said,

“I’m Ricardt, assigned to guard the wasteland mage.”

At that, the rough sailors stared at Ricardt wordlessly. Then, one of them suddenly held out a lemon. He didn’t know what it meant, but took it anyway.

As he stepped onto the planks and boarded the ship, it wasn’t swaying that much, but it still felt clearly different from standing on solid ground.

At the center of the deck stood a mast, and along the rails, there were about twenty rowing seats lined up. It seemed to be a kind of galley, but where was the mage?

“The mage is below deck.”

Just as he was wondering, Barbara approached and said. Just like the night before, he wore luxurious clothes, a flashy belt, and carried a cutlass.

“How long to Armosa?”

“Well, that depends on whether the wind allows it. We might make a short stop somewhere in between. It won’t take more than two days, so don’t worry.”

Barbara replied with a smile that seemed somehow suspicious.

“And I think you’re misunderstanding something. Your job isn’t to guard the mage. If anything happens, your job is to kill the people below deck.”

“‘People’?”

“Well, you think it only takes sailors to run a ship of this size?”

“A slave ship?”

“Hey now, we don’t use that kind of term. It's just a trade vessel.”

Even if the law was practically toothless, slave trading was still illegal under Imperial law.

“And that thing, better eat it now.”

Barbara nodded toward the lemon in Ricardt’s hand.

“Why?”

“It’s just some superstition. They say if you eat it, you won’t get sick during the voyage.”

Ricardt thought for a moment, then took out a dagger from his coat and sliced the lemon cleanly in half. He tilted his head back, opened his mouth, and squeezed both halves straight into it.

It was incredibly sour, but not a single expression changed on his face. He tossed the two lemon halves into the dark early morning sea and said,

“If you were thinking of screwing me over with that, you’d better be ready to die.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Whether Barbara truly did or not, Ricardt descended below deck for now.

Below deck was dark, gloomy, full of moisture, and the wood was rotten. Even worse, water sloshed around on the floor.

Floating along with the sloshing water were human wastes, and rats paddled through it, limbs flailing like they were swimming.

The ceiling was low, so one couldn’t stand fully upright and had to bow their head. But the most shocking thing was that there were people in a place like this.

It was unclear whether they were all to be sold as slaves or merely hitching a ride, but they were of various ages, some with families, others grouped as women.

Each group huddled together with people they knew, all covered with soaked blankets. Some were coughing nonstop as if they were sick and on the verge of death. Most of their facial skin was peeling off in patches, red and inflamed.

Even pigs would struggle to endure such an environment, yet here were people, humans, like this. Could this be allowed? Could they be treated like this?

But the task Ricardt had accepted in exchange for the fare was to kill these people early if there were any signs of mutiny aboard.

Did they know what he was thinking? The people kept their eyes on Ricardt without averting their gaze, their eyes wide with fear and wariness, gleaming like those of beasts.

The wasteland mage was sitting in the farthest corner, locked inside an iron cage with a gag in his mouth.

Ricardt went over to him and sat on a box nearby. Water sloshed at his feet, it looked like the perfect environment to catch athlete’s foot if one stayed too long.

“You just have to endure for, at most, two days.”

Ricardt said. At that, the gagged mage gave a faint smile. What that smile meant, Ricardt couldn’t tell.

But in a place where staying even a minute was unbearable, two days felt as long as two years. Every sound of the sailors’ footsteps above filtered through without any block.

Now and then came loud thuds! thuds! and voices shouting curses without restraint.

It was the worst place, the worst space in Ricardt’s life. It was noisy, uncomfortable, and filthy. He was on the verge of losing his mind, wondering when they would finally depart. Two days was by no means a short time.

It was especially hard since the only person he knew was the wasteland mage, so he couldn’t even kill time with small talk.

Then finally, it seemed the ship was departing. As it began to sway, the water on the floor started surging back and forth in earnest. With it, chunks of human waste floated here and there.

In the middle of all that, one person, sweating cold sweat like they had a fever, suddenly gagged and vomited on the floor.

Ricardt shut his eyes tight. And he focused with all his might to recall a beautiful memory. It wasn’t easy, but anything to endure just a little longer.

When the rowers began to row, loud creaks echoed as if the ship were about to break apart. The sound repeated in a constant rhythm without rest.

At first, the ship moved so slowly that Ricardt wondered if they were moving at all, but later, just as he was half losing his mind, the sails were lowered, and they caught the wind, picking up speed.

Each time the waves swelled, seawater would rush in under the deck and then recede, making the dirty water splash everywhere. Ricardt pulled his cloak up and covered his face below his eyes.

Feels like death. No matter if it took a month or a year, next time I’ll go by land. Or just not go at all. I’ll never board a ship again, Ricardt swore to himself hundreds of times.

Inside, there was no way to know if the sun had risen or set. One could only guess vaguely by feel.

Perhaps if he paid close attention, he could figure it out, but his mind was too hazy, and he didn’t have the energy to care whether it was day or night.

This place was where time stood still. It felt like an hour had passed, but in reality, only a minute had gone by, or like a whole day had gone by, but not even an hour had passed.

Ricardt experienced the limits of his mental endurance more than once. Even while trying to accept reality, sudden urges to throw everything away surged up again and again.

But what surprisingly kept Ricardt going was responsibility. Whether he knew or not, since he had taken on a task, he chose not to leave the space below deck.

Though looking at the people, a mutiny seemed far-fetched. Could these sickly people even start a rebellion?

But that was naive thinking. Humans pushed to their limits, even on the verge of death, could display terrifying strength.

In any case, it seemed to be nighttime now. No lights were lit, just pitch-black darkness everywhere, and though Ricardt couldn’t even tell anymore whether there was a stench, the filthy water still sloshed constantly.

One would wonder how anyone could sleep in a place like this, but mentally and physically exhausted, Ricardt began nodding off like a sick hen.

How long had he dozed off?

Suddenly, someone shouted loudly from above deck.

“Enemy ship! Enemy ship! Southwest direction! Enemy ship!”

What? Enemy ship? What the hell?

Ricardt blinked rapidly. He could hear people rushing around on deck.

Still disoriented, Ricardt hurried over to the covered section. He pounded his fist against the hatch above and shouted,

“Hey! What’s going on!?”

But it was so chaotically loud that no one answered. So Ricardt pounded the hatch even harder and shouted louder.

“Hey! What’s going on! Open this!”

“Shut up! You son of a bitch!”

Someone stomped down hard on the hatch with their foot.

At that, Ricardt finally reached the limit of his patience and drew his sword. In the pitch-black darkness, golden flames blazed along the blade.

With one swing, he cut through the lock as if slicing paper and flung the hatch open with a slam.

The first thing that met his eyes was the brightly shining full moon. Then he saw the sail engulfed in flames. The unnatural fire lit up the dark night, it was clear that something serious had happened.

Ricardt quickly climbed up onto the deck. There, he bumped into a sailor frantically running around.

Ricardt was only slightly pushed, but the sailor fell hard on his backside. He frowned and snapped irritably.

“Don’t just stand there, move, you son of a bitch!”

“You move!”

Ricardt also frowned and shouted back in a roar, and the man flinched and shut his mouth tight.

Ricardt quickly scanned the area to assess the situation. Though he had no knowledge or experience of naval combat, he instinctively realized that this was extremely dangerous.

Two ships had come up close, one on the side and one behind. Hooks had been thrown and planks laid down, enemies were swarming aboard.

Ricardt didn’t care about anything else and shouted down below deck as loud as he could.

“Everyone out! Come outside!”

Then he ran straight to Barbara and grabbed him.

“Hey!”

Startled, Barbara turned around and reflexively tried to stab Ricardt with his sword, but Ricardt easily blocked it by grabbing his arm and shouted.

“What the hell is going on...!”

But at that moment, Ricardt’s sharp senses picked up something. An arrow flew through the darkness. Without even looking, Ricardt ducked his upper body to avoid it.

By sheer coincidence, the arrow that Ricardt dodged struck Barbara right in the temple.

Thwack!

“Guh!”

As the arrow pierced through, Barbara’s left eyeball popped out slightly. Then he collapsed, it looked like he died instantly.

Ricardt stood in stunned silence, dumbfounded by the absurdity. But he quickly snapped back to his senses and began cutting down the enemies swarming in from the side of the ship.

Under the moonlight, the flaming sword gleamed in the middle of the sea, slicing down enemies like a farmer reaping grass with a sickle. It was too eye-catching to be ignored, and both allies and enemies stared wide-eyed.

Ricardt didn’t stop there. He jumped onto one of the planks the enemies had laid and ran straight toward the enemy ship.

The plank swayed violently, any normal person would have struggled just to keep their balance. But Ricardt's body swayed, while his head remained as still as a chicken's, moving as if he were running on flat ground.

In an instant, Ricardt boarded the enemy ship and brought his flaming sword down on an enemy who had just finished loading a crossbow. The man was split cleanly from the crown of his head to his chest.

Ricardt grabbed the crossbow the man dropped and fired it at another enemy who was standing blankly.

Whiz! Thwack!

The bolt pierced him right between the eyes, and Ricardt tossed the crossbow aside. Then he swung his sword again, everything about his movements flowed as naturally as if they’d been choreographed.

People were momentarily stunned, watching his astonishing combat skill in awe.

Ricardt’s intention was simple, he planned to take over the enemy ship and escape. The ship he had originally boarded was burning out of control, and it was likely too late to save it.

But while slaughtering enemies for some time, something suddenly came to mind. The Wasteland Mage!

He had no particular loyalty to the man. Yet Ricardt’s body moved before his thoughts caught up.

All he could see in his mind was the image of that man trapped alone in the iron cage. Then who would save him?

Allies were now swarming across the planks, so Ricardt quickly crossed the taut rope strung between the two ships, as if walking a tightrope.

The sight was so astonishing that onlookers forgot they were in danger and simply watched in amazement. Not only was it tightrope walking, but the ships were rocking violently.

Whether the people were shocked or not, Ricardt descended back below deck. In the pitch-black darkness where nothing could be seen, the wasteland mage was still sitting in the corner, confined in the iron cage with a gag in his mouth.

Ricardt splashed over to him and swung his sword, cutting through the iron bars. Then, as he untied the ropes binding the mage’s hands and removed the gag from his mouth, he spoke urgently.

“You’re free now. Do as you will. For now, you can follow me if you want.”

But the wasteland mage didn’t make any move to come out, he simply looked at Ricardt calmly.

Then he opened his mouth to speak, and his voice was deep and clear, almost profound.

“Watch your side.”

“What?”

Just then, whether hidden in the darkness of night or not, a large ship suddenly appeared from somewhere and rammed into Ricardt’s vessel from the side.

Crash! Crack!

In an instant, the ship split in two, and Ricardt, who had been below deck, was thrown into the sea without understanding what had happened. Had it struck his body directly, he would have died on the spot, but fortunately, that wasn’t the case.

Still, the impact was so intense that his mind felt like it was being ripped apart. Yet, astonishingly, he didn’t lose consciousness and instinctively held his breath in that desperate moment.

But maybe because of the shock, his body wouldn’t respond. Was something broken? Ricardt couldn’t tell which way was up or down. And he couldn’t ignore the physical exhaustion from having stayed below deck for so long either.

At that moment, through the shattered wreckage, the moonlight and firelight pouring down on the ocean surface looked incredibly beautiful, and as Ricardt sank beneath the sea, his gaze was drawn to it.

Amid the dull sounds and chaotic situation, a strange calm seemed to wash over him. Ricardt’s blonde hair floated like seaweed, and his sword drifted slowly nearby.

He needed to swim quickly to the surface, but oddly, Ricardt found himself wanting to savor this quiet just a little longer. Perhaps it was because his body and mind had been so thoroughly worn down and suddenly relaxed all at once.

So he sank slowly, ever so slowly, into the endless depths. Death, life, fate, regrets, everything sank into that deep abyss.

Then, from somewhere, a high-pitched, mysterious sound reached him. A sound he had never heard before, never even imagined. It was alien, strangely beautiful, sorrowful, and frightening all at once.

Ricardt turned his head in the direction of the sound. And there, he came face to face with a massive whale.

Ricardt had, of course, heard of whales. But he had never seen a picture, and now, encountering one in person, all knowledge of whales flew from his mind.

He was simply overwhelmed by its immense size and awe-inspiring presence. Was it a giant of the sea? Or perhaps a god taking form?

Moonlight and firelight that had passed through the ocean’s surface gently settled on the whale’s black back. There was no barrier, no safety measure between Ricardt and the whale. They simply faced each other.

The whale approached Ricardt slowly, yet swiftly, and with grace. Though they had never spoken and surely couldn’t communicate, Ricardt felt with certainty through instinct that there was no hostility. He knew the whale meant to help him.

The whale slowly brought its giant fin close enough for Ricardt to grab. Ricardt reached out and took hold of the fin. Then, a bit more swiftly, they rose toward the surface.

Ricardt felt as if he were swimming through the night sky, through the universe itself. Was this a dream? Or was it real? It was a moment that felt like pure magic.

Overwhelmed by a heart-pounding mix of emotion and wonder, Ricardt felt dizzy, and in that moment, he lost consciousness.

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