Chapter 217 |
Urich woke up early from the commotion. He yawned leisurely as he looked at Krika, who was being restrained.
"What's with all this noise? You're going to have a messed-up arm for the rest of your life at this rate, you know that?" Urich said, looking at Krika's left arm.
It was the arm that broke during his fight with Urich. The broken arm was dislocated from its socket and dangled loosely.
Urich sat next to Krika. He adjusted Krika's misaligned left arm.
"G-guuugh!"
Krika screamed from the pain, but Urich showed no concern and kept his face straight.
"Why are you screaming like a little girl? I'll splint it for you, so stop thrashing around. This time, I'll tie your legs too."
Krika, with all his limbs bound, glared at Bilker.
"You better be ashamed, Bilker."
"Don't mind that hot-blooded guy. Who believes in Ulgaro these days, anyway? Am I right?" Urich said to Bilker. Bilker's eyes widened at Urich's comment.
"I-it seems like you don't find it strange that I say I believe in Lou.”
"I've seen stranger things. I've even seen an old man who spent his whole life splitting the skulls of northerners ditch Lou to worship Ulgaro. Actually, it would be funnier if someone like you, who can't even fight, said he's a devout follower of Ulgaro," Urich said, shrugging and patting Bilker on the shoulder.
Bilker, raised by a single mother, naturally came to believe in Lou. Ulgaro was not a very appealing god to women and children. However, Bilker couldn't openly say he believed in Lou in front of the devoted warriors who venerated the lineage of Mijorn.
"But I am a descendant of Mijorn… if I believe in Lou, will I be punished? Would Ulgaro be mad? Of course, he would be, right?" Bilker mumbled.
Urich chuckled and shook his head.
"I may not be a priest, but... Lou is going to take your soul. Ulgaro wouldn’t even have the slightest interest in a coward like you. Now, get some sleep. You'll need to walk all day tomorrow, too."
Urich walked away and sat against a tree.
'Perhaps it's better this way. If Bilker were a devout follower of Ulgaro, it would've been troublesome.'
Many northerners believed in Solarism. Even if they didn't have genuine faith, many had formally converted to it.
Ulgaro was transitioning from a divine status to a legendary one. While Ulgaro was acknowledged as an ancestor, the god the people of the north believed in was the Sun.
'Sorry to say, but you are not the god this era wants.'
Urich stared into the empty darkness.
* * *
Two more days had passed. As Urich expected, a battle ensued. About ten northern warriors ambushed Urich and his group.
"Ulgarooo!!"
The roar of the northern warriors echoed through the snowy landscape. They charged with their arms spread wide. The characteristic double-handed battle axe of the north could even split shields.
"This reminds me of Sven."
Urich swung his single-handed axe, partially severing the neck of an attacking northern warrior. He snatched the double-handed battle axe from the warrior and fought with it.
Swish.
Urich swung the battle axe with ease, even with just one hand. He gripped the bottom of the axe handle to use the centrifugal force for long sweeps.
Crush!
The battle axe split the shield of one of the northern warriors and sliced through his abdomen, causing a sea of red flowers to bloom on the snow.
Urich and his tribal warriors had been waiting for the battle. They didn’t flee but stood their ground. The battle of life and death continued.
"Urgh."
Bilker doubled over, vomiting. It was his first time seeing someone die from a blade. It was a gruesome sight.
'What's worse is that they’re enjoying fighting like this.'
To a warrior, battle was glory and pleasure. They fought, risking their own lives to take the lives of others.
'l could never be like them.'
Bilker muttered Lou's name.
Evil spirits were not something that was far away. To Bilker, those who laughed while killing others looked like them. Those who held up severed heads and roared seemed like evil spirits descended to earth.
‘Just what is so glorious about murdering and fighting?'
It was simply disgusting. Bilker took deep breaths. The scent of blood penetrated his nose, stabbing at his brain.
Bilker trembled as he waited for the battle to end. Krika, beside him, frowned as he looked at Bilker.
"Coward."
Krika's insult didn't bother him. Words couldn't kill a person. It was the blade that did.
The screams ceased. The sound of metal clashing died down.
"Haven't moved like this in a while; that was nice. Is everyone still alive?" Urich, drenched in blood, shouted. He rubbed his face with snow to wipe off the blood.
"Saveku and Yergar are dead."
Another warrior glanced around and reported.
"Tsk, I see. What about the others?"
"Marlin's stomach is ripped open; he's going to die. Too much of his guts are out."
"Well, try shoving them back in. Maybe he'll live if he's lucky."
"He says it's too painful. He’s asking us to finish him off, and he wants the Son of the Earth to do it himself."
"Got it. I’ll be right there."
Urich's group had also suffered considerable damage. There were five casualties. Three were dead, and two were wounded but with a chance to survive if the wounds didn’t worsen.
Urich stood with his axe before the warrior with the torn stomach.
'Yeah, he’s not going to make it.'
Feces were leaking out from the spilled intestines. The warrior was barely managing to gasp for air. It was almost amazing he hadn't died immediately.
"Lower your head."
"Huff, huff. At least offer some words of comfort, like the shamans do."
"Hah, but I’m not a shaman."
"Anything will do. Just say something."
Urich looked up briefly to think of something to say.
"Our ancestors and brothers await you in the blue sky. Probably hunting or something."
"That sucks. That was not cool at all."
"Sorry, buddy."
Urich swung the axe, beheading the warrior. The light of life that was already dim flickered out. Other warriors gathered the bodies and laid them neatly.
The battlefield was cleared. Urich and his warriors collected useful items from the enemy corpses.
"We'll keep moving. Let’s go. Hey, what's wrong? Why aren’t you getting up, Bilker? You wet yourself or something?"
Urich grabbed Bilker's arm and pulled him up. Bilker's lips quivered.
‘He’s scared out of his mind like a rabbit—no, more like a piglet, I guess. Was this the first time he saw someone die?'
Urich stared into Bilker's eyes. Bilker averted his gaze from Urich's eyes.
'Urich smells of blood.'
Urich, who Bilker was starting to warm up to, now seemed like an entirely different person. No matter how jovially he spoke to him, the reality was that Urich was a merciless warrior. He was a brutal demon who didn't hesitate to cut people down.
'I might end up dead, too.'
Bilker was terrified. He barely managed to mount his horse.
"You're safe, Bilker," Urich said.
But Urich's guarantee meant nothing to Bilker.
Bilker had trouble sleeping that night. He couldn’t stop thinking someone might cut his throat.
'I'm not safe.'
The darkness became terrifying as he glanced around.
Krika, whose limbs were bound, spat at Bilker when he saw him.
"Still shaking, huh? You dumbass."
"A-are you not scared?"
"I'm a warrior. I've already killed people before."
Among the northern warriors, there was a long-standing tradition. Fathers took their sons hunting, and when the sons grew older, they helped them gain experience by killing. Whether it was through raiding, ambushes, or robbery.
'If you’ve never experienced killing, you end up hesitating in crucial moments during battle.'
Krika too had followed his father long ago and killed a passing traveler. He felt no guilt. That was just their way of life.
With the proliferation of Solarism, that unique northern warrior tradition also gradually vanished. To followers of Lou, life was precious, and they valued solidarity and harmony. The warriors of Ulgaro were those who rejected such changes.
"I've never seen a person kill another person before..."
Bilker crouched down. It was better to have someone to talk to, even if it was Krika.
Krika clicked his tongue and sat quietly for a while. After a long silence, he spoke softly.
"You should just quit all of this. If you get the chance, run. You belong in the mountains, gathering herbs. Become a king? You? Someone who’s trembling just because a few people died in front of him?"
"I know. I know that I don’t fit the part," Bilker replied.
"It's not just about being a good fit. If you become king, you won’t live out your natural lifespan. If you're a coward, just act like one and run away. Don't ever look back. Those guys don't see you as a threat. They think you're just a complete idiot. If you say you're going to the bathroom, they'll let you go without suspicion."
Krika's eyes were clear.
"If I leave, you'll die. You have no value without me,” Bilker replied.
"That's none of your business. I am Krika. Unlike you, I'm a real warrior. I don't care about death. Seeing your pathetic face is almost more painful than dying."
Bilker's eyes trembled. Krika's words were harsh, but he was undoubtedly giving him advice.
"You’re right, I'm not a warrior," Bilker mumbled, nodding. Krika smirked faintly for the first time.
"Run until you can’t anymore. Don't get caught. By anyone," Krika said.
But Bilker shook his head slightly.
"I'm not a warrior, but I won't stand by and watch others die because of me. That's what I know from Lou's teachings, so that is my duty."
Bilker pulled out a pocket knife he had been using for cooking. He slowly reached over and began to cut the ropes binding Krika's limbs.
"What do you think you’re doing?"
"Helping you. You are the one who should run. Don't return to the warriors; go far away. You have skills, so you'll do fine just about anywhere.”
"I won’t accept your help. Stop it."
"I've already cut the ropes."
Krika felt his freed fingers. He silently cursed and glanced at the guard warrior. The warrior was facing outward, looking out for possible attacks.
‘Shit, I can’t believe I’m getting help from this pig bastard, shit, goddammit!’
Insults were on the tip of his tongue. Krika glared at Bilker.
"You manage to annoy me until the very end."
Krika untied the ropes binding his legs. He quietly shuffled backward.
Bilker and Krika met eyes for the last time. Bilker nodded to Krika, who silently walked before starting to run.
Eventually, the guard warrior noticed Krika had escaped and woke Urich. Woken from sleep, Urich was irritated, as he hadn't had a good night's rest recently.
"Leave it. Trying to chase him down would just waste more of our time. We should start moving now. It'd be troublesome if he brought back a pursuit squad," Urich said, yawning as he packed his belongings.
Urich glanced at Bilker, who avoided his gaze as if he had done something wrong.
"Brother Bilker."
Urich slung his arm over Bilker's shoulder. Bilker jumped up and opened his eyes wide. Urich spoke slowly.
"Doing what you think is right doesn't always lead to good outcomes. More people might die because of you."
Bilker felt his heart skip a beat at Urich’s words. He could hear his own heart beating loudly.
Urich smiled as if he had expected it.
'So, Bilker let him go.'
Urich looked in the direction Krika had fled. The night was still quite dark.
