Kays Translations

Chapter 132: Flowers Blooming in a Foreign Land

Three men disembarked from the carriage. They all held weapons in their hands, and they didn't look like they were here for negotiations or surrendering.

The bandit leader took a step forward.

"Are you surrendering? If you leave the carriage and weapons here, we won't take your lives."

"Sorry, but Papa didn’t teach me how to surrender. Bad upbringing, you know."

Gwen said jokingly, and the other two laughed as well.

The bandit leader's face momentarily twisted in displeasure, but that quickly turned into a defiant smile.

An Allied Nation’s man should be like this—there was no way around it. Surrendering would be a mood killer. Victory meant fighting and earning it.

The leader waved his hand casually, and his subordinates spread out, surrounding the carriage. Five in the front and five on the sides and back.

"Ricardo, I'll leave the front to you."

"Got it."

Lutz said calmly, and Ricardo responded naturally.

Unbelievable, thought Gwen, wide-eyed. But with this numerical disadvantage, it must mean they're being used as disposable pawns. Ricardo would sacrifice himself to take down the enemies in the front, while Lutz and Gwen would reduce the enemy's numbers during that time—this was how Gwen interpreted the strategy.

"...You're doing something unexpectedly cruel."

"Yes, you're right. Depending on how you look at it, it's very cruel."

Lutz directed this comment not at Ricardo, but at the bandits with a compassionate look in his eyes.

"Gwen, don't get close to Ricardo when the fight starts. Specifically, stay within a radius of five meters."

"Is it going to be that intense...?"

Gwen thought he might lose his sanity and go berserk. Lutz didn't correct him, or rather, he couldn't explain that inexplicable phenomenon in words. There was no time for that.

"Alright, let's go."

Ricardo cut the scabbard of his sword and ran towards the bandit leader and his group. There was no trace of a resigned pawn in his expression; he had the eyes of a hunter.

Inside the leader's mind, conflicting emotions of not underestimating and sensing something odd battled. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Was this fear, or rather, it was something unbelievable but close to pleasure. All he clearly understood was that he'd die if he surrendered. He felt a woman's presence behind him, smelled the scent of blood, couldn't comprehend it.

Being cautious and brave were not contradictory. The leader leaped back towards the rear.

The four subordinates surrounded Ricardo, swinging the axes and swords they held.

They must have seen Ricardo turn into minced meat. However, what their weapons struck down first were their own necks and bellies.

"Ah... huh?"

Fresh blood splattered, and one after another, the men fell. The question of why they were doing this overwhelmed them with waves of pleasure.

With an ecstatic smile of bliss, shaking his hips, the men eventually stopped breathing. Who could have predicted such a death? Who could have desired such an end?

The warriors' souls were now being violated by a single demonic blade.

This was a pool of blood, a flower hell.

"Use the carriage as a shield!"

There was no time to be afraid or trembling. The leader issued orders to the surviving subordinates. He judged that if they engaged in melee combat, the cursed sword would be unusable.

The five subordinates swung their weapons at Lutz and Gwen, who were protecting the carriage. Now they wouldn't get caught up in the curse of the magic sword.

However, there was no escape for the leader himself. He had no place to run to. To join his comrades, he had to defeat the lustful demon standing in his way.

Turning his back and fleeing alone—was that fitting behavior for an Allied Nation’s warrior? The answer was no.

With determination, the leader took a finely sharpened knife from his bosom. Despite everything, this was an item he wouldn’t let go of even in his downfall.

Was he going to throw it? Ricardo became cautious. Taking advantage of that opening, the leader stuck his hand in his crotch and pulled out his genitals. For a moment, he looked like he was about to cry, then he quickly regained his warrior's expression. The knife swung smoothly, and the genitals were severed.

"Ugh...!"

Groans of agony, eyes filled with pain and hatred turned towards Ricardo.

What is he doing? Ricardo felt overwhelmed.

Cutting off one's own symbol of manhood was something unbelievable, a terrifying act. In the leader's perspective, it was a simple calculation of gains and losses.

It's better than dying—it was all for the sake of victory. It made sense in theory, but the terrifying thing was his capability to actually execute it.

Ricardo pointed his sword towards the leader. However, the leader, with a face covered in sweat, emanated an intense aura as he walked toward him with large strides. The curse didn't affect him now; he wouldn't be consumed by lust.

A mixture of agony and guilt for abandoning a long-time partner. Those emotions sustained the leader. At the very least, he had to push Ricardo into hell before he could rest.

Ricardo's right foot unconsciously retreated under the pressure.

"What's wrong? Can't do anything without the curse!?"

His enraged shout echoed through the forest road. Ricardo's foot, still dominated by cowardice, came to a sudden halt.

...Am I just an accessory to Tsubaki? No, I'm the owner of Tsubaki.

The cursed sword "Tsubaki" wasn't a tool that spread curses. The order was reversed. It was the curse that entranced people with its alluring beauty, because it was eerily sharp. It was a top-tier blade in its own right.

Ricardo took a deep breath, squared his stance, and readied himself. He had the resolute look of someone prepared to take a life.

That's the way it should be, thought the bandit leader, his mouth curling into a smile as he lunged forward. However, his movement lacked finesse. He was bleeding heavily and his balance was off. Yet, his determination remained unwavering.

Ricardo lowered his body and evaded the attack with a single swift motion, then swept through the leader's torso. The leader, draped in a worn leather armor that was as thin as eggshell, collapsed on top of his fallen comrades, black blood splattering from his side.

"Battle is a warrior's... ecstasy..."

Those were the only words muttered by the leader before he breathed his last.

Defeated, one remained alive. However, Ricardo's arm continued to tremble. He would do anything and never give up to achieve victory. This fierce determination evoked both fear and respect in equal measure.

"The world shouldn't force someone like you to become a bandit... It's definitely wrong."

Ricardo spoke to the faintly smiling corpse.

He didn't know whether the sword he wielded was a sword of justice. He just knew that in order to survive, he had to fight. That was the truth of warriors.

Previous chapter | TOC | Next chapter