Shadowed Gaze: The Highserk War Saga - Chapter 98

“Sigh, it’s hopeless. They’re all dead.”

Surrounded by scattered corpses, Walm sighed as he pondered the disposal of the bodies. Fortunately, there were no further attackers to fear, and the small fires caused by fireballs had already been extinguished.

“Sometimes, you’re useful after all.”

Walm muttered quietly as he looked at the mask he had removed, which seemed to tremble with defiance and protest, as if resenting being treated as a demon mask.

It was noisy and trembled endlessly when left inside the bag during sleep. Walm had never imagined that hanging it on a tree would fulfill the role of preventing a surprise attack at night.

“Ah, my bad. Calm down. Don’t resist.”

Drenched in fresh blood, the blood-stained mask swayed cheerfully. Walm managed to calm it down and stuffed it back into his waist pouch to assess the situation.

“I thought I was moving just inside the border, but it seems I’ve entered Meizenaf territory.”

Walm was moving along the border to escape the search by the Dalimarcus family for the damages to allies at the magic silver mines. He was attacked in his sleep by what seemed to be eight Meizenaf border soldiers. There were likely more squads deployed nearby, as he suspected a patrolling net had been set up along the border.

Even if Walm wanted to interrogate them, the sudden attack switched his mode to combat, and he ended up killing everyone without taking any prisoners. He hurriedly encouraged the only soldier barely alive, but it was to no avail against the clearly fatal wounds.

“If we don’t move soon, we might end up surrounded by both Meizenaf and Dalimarcus.”

Despite saying this, Walm quickly searched through his backpack and waist pouch, collecting anything of value and food. He had no intention of stripping the corpses of their clothes, but various supplies and valuables were unnecessary for the dead. They would be more meaningful consumed by someone rather than rotting away in the forest.

Nevertheless, handling the corpses carelessly and creating wandering dead was problematic. Regardless of fault, since Walm had killed them, he had to bear the responsibility as the culprit.

As Walm neither knew the prayers of a military priest nor had any faith, his actions were limited. Disgusted with himself, he sprinkled alcohol as a substitute for holy water and lit a cigarette as an offering, joining his hands in a semblance of prayer.

“Don’t turn into undead.”

After finishing the sloppy cleanup, Walm quickly left the area. It was midnight, darkness spread everywhere, and navigating the lightless forest was difficult. Originally intending to cross Meizenaf territory to enter the Labyrinth City, but considering the reception he had received, a change in route was urgent.

“The coastal area, if I remember correctly, belongs to neither the Meizenaf nor the Dalimarcus…”

Walm recalled the geography vaguely. The safest route to enter Labyrinth City avoiding Dalimarcus was undoubtedly along the coast. The Viscounty of Sanviana, which controlled the coastal area, maintained healthy territorial management through marine resources and large-scale shipping, and had remained neutral in the battles over the magic silver mines.

“The destination is decided. Now for the stomach. Shredded jerky… what meat is this? Well, it should be edible.”

Calories were necessary for overnight activities, especially after consuming both physical and magical energy in battle. Fortunately, his food situation had improved due to the recent fight. Although reluctant, Walm had to cram something into his stomach.

He separated uncontaminated food from the corpses and tore off a piece of the unidentified dried meat packed in a small bag with his back teeth. As he chewed it into a pulp, a strong salty taste followed by a burst of flavor filled his mouth. He quickly devoured two, three sticks more and then grabbed a handful of various beans from another bag, stuffing them into his mouth.

He crunched and chewed, swallowing the pieces.

“Tough and too salty.”

Walm took out his water bottle, quenched his thirst, and bit into the dried meat again. He would prefer to settle down and enjoy a midnight meal, but the situation did not allow for it. A meal without warming, on the move, eaten by hand—it was anything but well-mannered.

◆

Walm, wrapped in a lethargic fatigue on top of sleep deprivation, was uncared for by the world. The sun, which had chased away the twin moons, shone high in the sky as usual, enveloping Walm in the morning light. If he had gotten enough sleep, he might have felt somewhat revitalized, but at the moment, the sunlight was nothing more than an unwelcome presence.

It had been four mornings since the night attack. With only brief periods of sleep at night and occasional rests during the day, Walm had been continuously walking. There was no sign of the feared pursuers, and for the time being, he had successfully escaped to a safe zone.

Yet, Walm’s mind was not at ease. He carefully moved his feet on the unstable ground, pushing through the gloomy vegetation. The scenery, which seemed to go on forever, came to an end with a faint light filtering through the trees in the distance.

“Have we come upon a proper road?”

Though Walm had been traversing pathless routes, he eventually came upon a well-trodden path. He had covered quite a distance. It should’ve been safe to walk on the road by now.

Turning his stiff neck, Walm managed a small smile for the first time in four days. He crouched down, kneeling on the ground, and scrutinized it. There were fresh footprints, and faint traces of cartwheels. There was even dung from a draft animal, albeit a small amount, which contained a high amount of moisture, indicating it was less than half a day old.

“Which way should I go?”

Without a reliable map, and in a foreign land with no local knowledge, Walm decided to follow the freshest tracks. Fortunately, he was not hindered by annoying vegetation or the seemingly endless swarms of gnats.

How refreshing it would have been to use Demon Fire to burn away the persistent swarm of insects during the short breaks—of course, it was impossible for Walm to do such a thing. It would have been a meaningless escapism. If he unleashed Demon Fire, it would be Walm himself who would suffer in dire straits, and it would only serve as a slight distraction.

Trivial thoughts continued to pop into his mind, yet his pace was steady. Observing the roadside, Walm noticed various indicators: a small rock likely used for a rest, traces where livestock had grazed, and tufts of grass that had been torn and eaten, suggesting that the path was frequently used.

After navigating a winding path, Walm finally caught sight of figures ahead. He consciously tried not to quicken his pace. Unlike during his peasant days, Walm’s current attire did not invite familiarity. Anyone would react with utmost caution if a fully armed stranger rapidly approached from behind.

As he closed the distance, he could make out more details about the figures. There were three people, leading an ox connected by a neck yoke to a cart. Judging by their attire, they were undoubtedly peasants, but they looked quite different from the peasants Walm knew from his homeland.

They must’ve been citizens of one of the three great nations. They might’ve just happened to be wealthy peasants, but unlike in the Highserk Empire, where peasants often tied loads directly to cows or horses, here the cart was pulled by a neck yoke. The ox was well-fleshed, and despite its slow pace, it carried a heavy load.

Walm cautiously caught up from behind. After they became aware of Walm, the trio seemed very concerned about their rear. They checked the cart frequently, probably because it carried some weapons or farm tools that could be used as weapons.

Now, the gazes were not hidden; they were fixated on Walm. From his feet to his head, and naturally to the longsword at his hip, their eyes gathered. Walm aligned himself alongside them, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

“Hello, how are you doing?”

Counting out the insults or screams from those he had killed, this was his first conversation with someone in four days. Fortunately, his mouth worked fine.

“Ah, so-so,” replied the eldest among them.

“You look like an adventurer… no, more like a mercenary. Are you also heading to the Meizenaf territory?” asked the man with deep wrinkles, likely deducing from the scars on the armor that it was used more for fighting people than monsters. More than that, the older man voiced a concern.

“Yeah, well, I’m definitely a mercenary. But isn’t this the land of Count Meizenaf?”

The man, puzzled by Walm’s question, paused for a moment before starting to reply.

“…What, are you from outside? This is the Viscounty of Sanviana, unrelated to the current commotion over the magic silver mines.”

In the conflict surrounding the magic silver mines, the viscounty, which held a neutral stance, prided itself on its independence. It was also a land that Walm had longed for.

“That’s wonderful.”

Whether Walm’s heartfelt words were perceived as sarcasm or self-deprecation, the man asked with a slight pity.

“Did you lose your way?”

Treated like a pitiful mercenary who had erred and missed the battle, Walm answered honestly.

“The opposite. I came from those magic silver mines.”

The elder’s complexion changed as he was concerned about the outcome of the war. The conflicts between neighboring lords could easily impact even the peasants.

“So, did Meizenaf win?”

“No, it was a grand victory for Dalimarcus.”

“That greedy Meizenaf lost, huh? That’s surprising.”

Perhaps the Viscounty of Sanviana was also under pressure. The elder seemed pleased briefly but then quickly returned to his earlier expression, likely assuming Walm was one of the mercenaries who sided with the disastrously defeated Meizenaf.

If he said something careless, there might’ve been a risk of the escaped mercenary lashing out, or something to that effect. It was a wild assumption, but Walm chose not to deny it.

“There was some gain. Personally, it wasn’t a bad battle.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Whether it was part of his effort to stay on good terms, the elder peasant blessed Walm. There was less caution than expected. Relieved for the moment, Walm was soon bombarded with questions by two men who had maintained a watchful silence.

“What did you obtain?”

“Surely it must be gold coins or weapons.”

The elder frowned. The two young men might’ve been his sons or young relatives he was taking care of. Walm guessed that they had been brought along to help with and guard the transport of loaded agricultural produce.

“Stop, that’s rude.”

“I don’t mind, I can show.”

Carefully concealing his magic bag under his cloak, Walm pulled out several daggers.

“Here, want to try holding them?”

“Really?”

After expressing their reluctance, the two quickly took them and drew the knives from their sheaths, like children swarming over toys.

“The handle is thick.”

“It’s hollow inside the handle. You can fit a stick in it to turn it into a spear.”

Walm didn’t like it due to durability issues. However, these knives, which could transform into spears when a suitable stick was inserted after losing a spear, had their demand.

“Are you also a merchant?”

As the two frolicked, the elder glanced at Walm with a look of reproach. Walm had no intention of performing a poor demonstration of cutting cucumbers and carrots to showcase the sharpness.

“Hardly. They’re just too heavy to carry around and I want to offload them quickly. I can sell them for five small silver coins each.”

Given their purpose for rough handling and hunting, the price Walm offered was exceedingly fair, considering the effort and iron used. Although the weight was not an issue due to the magic bag, he could not carry much because of the space limitations similar to a large backpack.

“Five silver coins?! Really?”

“Uncle, it’s five silver coins.”

The two young men revealed their relationship. Walm gently pushed the elder’s back as he wrestled with his family.

“…I won’t go into backstories, but honestly, I’d like to know more about the local geography. I’m giving a discount for that info.”

“I can’t tell you much.”

“For me, it’s significant. After all, I don’t even know where I am.”

Walm shrugged self-deprecatingly. Whether that was the deciding factor was unclear, but the elder made his decision.

“Alright, understood. You guys, I’ll buy them. In exchange, you know the deal. You’ll have to work for it.”

With ten silver coins handed over, the daggers became the possession of the young men. As they focused on their new toys, Walm prompted the elder with a look.

“So, what do you want to know?”

“I want to know about any nearby villages or towns where I can stock up on food and daily necessities, and the route to Labyrinth City.”

Without hesitating, the elder immediately answered Walm.

“Getting to the city is easy. We’re about to go there to sell our goods.”

“Are you messengers of gods?”

If so, Walm was willing to flatter even the gods at this point. He exaggerated his highest praise.

” Don’t be surprised just yet. The town we’re heading to is a port town. There’s a sailboat that goes near the inland Labyrinth City. From there, it’s on foot, but it’s faster than traveling by land the whole way.”

Walm had never seen the sea in this world. As he envisioned the unseen vast ocean, he continued the conversation.

“The sea, huh? That sounds fun.”

Realizing his reaction, he felt like he couldn’t mock the young ones. Without pretense or falsehood, Walm had let out his inner child and openly expressed his feelings.

Translator – Lyxxna