The Warrior’s Ballad

The Eastern Expedition Territory, which took over a month to reach, was nothing short of hell. The soldiers were slumped over, discouraged, and frustrated, without any strength in that hell.

When Ricky entered the camp tent after being assigned to the unit, he smelled an indescribable odor. A mixture of fire, steel, blood, and death.

That night, Ricky was forcibly covered with a blanket and beaten. Barely holding onto his sanity, he endured, and when the beating was over, a senior soldier laughed and said,

“To survive in hell, you must become a demon. Welcome, newbie.”

At first, Ricky didn’t participate in the battles. He was just busy running errands as the senior soldiers ordered.

If he showed any confusion at unfamiliar terms he’d never heard before, a fist would inevitably fly. The teaching came afterward.

He had to empty the latrines, maintain weapons, and bring all sorts of necessities, even if it meant stealing them.

When he finally went into battle and managed to pull his own weight, the errands decreased, and the swearing and beatings gradually disappeared.

Then, when he had gained some experience, he participated in a battle with many casualties.

He didn’t know whether they won or lost, but Ricky pulled out a dying senior soldier buried in mud like a swamp and carried him on his back. He was the senior soldier who had beaten Ricky the most.

With each step, his legs sank up to his thighs, and he walked all day grinding his teeth to get back to the camp.

The injured senior soldier, carried on Ricky’s back, even wet himself, and the stench pierced through the thick smell of blood.

When Ricky finally managed to save him, he said,

“I won’t say thank you.”

After that, the senior soldier recovered and participated in several more battles. Then, in one battle, he threw himself to save Ricky and died instead, pierced by a spear.

As he was dying, he said with a smiling face,

“Don’t thank me. I can rest now. You keep working your ass off.”

“……”

That day, Ricky realized how trust is built. And that trust must be shown through actions, not words.

Rough talk, all kinds of obscene jokes, and somewhat violent traditions. These were just the fever reducers for soldiers living on the battlefield, and they were not their true selves.

That’s why Ricardt tried to see the true intentions behind others’ words rather than the words themselves.

When he first entered the dormitory at Beringen Academy, even though the kids provoked him with harsh words, he didn’t get angry or show any special reaction because of that context.

Having lived with rough soldiers and fought against the wild hostility of barbarians, no matter how harshly the kids provoked him, it didn’t stir much emotion in Ricardt.

However, Ricardt suddenly realized, looking at the blanket in his hand. It was an initiation ceremony. If it was that, he should have just taken the beating.

“Oh, was this an initiation? Sorry. Want to try again?”

But unfortunately, it was already too late. Four kids were sprawled out, groaning in pain. Silence filled the room.

Then, from somewhere on the upper bunk, someone spoke to Ricardt. He couldn’t see who it was.

“Hey, can you fight?”

“Well, what do you think?”

A chuckling sound was heard. Then, with a leap from the second floor of the bed, he revealed himself.

He was a student with short golden hair who looked prematurely aged to the point where one might wonder if he was lying about his age. However, his clean skin made it possible to see him as his actual age. Though it was unclear how old he was.

Above all, he was a head taller than Ricardt. And he was shirtless, showing well-defined muscles.

“Do you want to do it bare-handed or with swords?”

“Whatever’s comfortable for you.”

“Alright. Interesting. It’s Pankration!”

The opponent suddenly shouted. And not just shouted, but very loudly. Even the timid kids, and Ricardt, flinched in surprise. What’s with him?

But as if responding to his shout, other kids also shouted. When dozens of kids shouted energetically all at once, the whole dormitory seemed to shake.

“Pankration! Pankration! Pankration!”

Is this some sort of chant? While Ricardt stood there bewildered, his opponent turned around and walked towards the opposite door. Thinking it probably meant they were going to fight, Ricardt followed him.

Coming out through the opposite door, they arrived at the backyard of the dormitory, which looked like a kind of training ground.

There were old and recent bloodstains scattered on the sandy floor, and on the edges were wooden parallel bars, pull-up bars, training dummies, and other equipment.

In the training ground, there were kids practicing sparring, exercising, or engaging in flirting with girls. When the kids from the dormitory rushed out, everyone stopped what they were doing and watched.

In a corner of the training ground was a circular sand pit, and the one who had brought Ricardt out walked barefoot into it.

Naturally, the kids gathered around, and Ricardt took off his cloak and shoes and also stepped into the sand pit.

The kids watching had varied expressions: some with their arms crossed looking indifferent, others excitedly gleaming with anticipation, and some feeling fear for the impending violence.

Ricardt’s opponent seemed to enjoy the attention, especially relishing the girls’ gazes, as he confidently smiled and said,

“You either surrender or die. There’s no other way to end the fight. Everything is allowed except biting and kicking the groin. That’s pankration.”

“Is that so? So, are you prepared to die?”

“What? Hahaha, that’s funny. Really funny. Hey, someone bandage him up.”

Then, from the group of kids, Boribori quickly came out and wrapped Ricardt’s hands in bandages.

The bandages were meant to protect the fists, not to lessen the opponent’s injuries.

Ricardt’s opponent had his girlfriend bandage him, while Boribori bandaged Ricardt. Boribori, seeing that Ricardt had no calluses on his hands, thought the match was already decided.

“If you get hit, just pretend it hurts and fall down. Volka probably won’t kill you, but you could still get seriously hurt.”

Boribori whispered. It seemed the opponent’s name was Volka.

“Well, I don’t feel much determination from him.”

“……Huh?”

Boribori was confused, not understanding what Ricardt meant.

“When are you going to finish bandaging? Or are two going to make out now?”

“Hahahahaha!”

When Volka spoke, the surrounding kids burst out laughing, and Volka’s girlfriend, pretending to dislike it, secretly showed she enjoyed the attention.

“It’s done. You can go.”

Ricardt told Boribori. Boribori, feeling something was off, left the sand pit.

Then, Volka lightly bounced on the spot as if he were preparing, and then walked around Ricardt like he was taking a leisurely stroll. While subtly closing the distance, he suddenly stepped forward with his front foot and threw a punch.

Thunk!

No, he tried to punch. Volka saw a flash before his eyes, his head jerked back, and his fist missed its mark, slicing through empty air. Then, his knee hit the ground with a thud.

The surrounding area fell silent, like cold water had been poured on them.

Volka, barely holding onto consciousness, staggered but tried to steady himself. But again, there was a flash of light before his eyes, and he blacked out completely.

Ricardt had landed a high kick to Volka’s head. To the others, seeing him kick a taller opponent in the head looked almost picturesque.

If silence could have weight, it would have felt like a heavy rock had been placed on them. It was so heavy that even breathing seemed difficult.

The students who had been smiling gradually had their expressions harden, all with their mouths agape. Those who had been watching with indifferent arms crossed naturally unfolded their arms.

About three or four seconds passed. Volka regained consciousness and initially looked confused. He then stiffly tried to get up, unaware of the blood flowing from his nose and mouth.

“I could have killed you more than twenty times. Are you going to surrender?”

Ricardt, who was quietly watching Volka, spoke. Only then did Volka realize he had been knocked out.

He also became aware of the shocked gazes of the other kids focused on him, and shame washed over him. Most humiliating of all, among those gazes was his girlfriend’s.

“……Fuck you……!”

Volka, trying to muster his fighting spirit, swung his fist wildly.

No, once again, just before he could swing, his vision flashed. With a thud, his fist awkwardly sliced through empty air. Volka fell to his knees.

However, unlike before, he did not pass out. He desperately tried to hold on with sheer willpower and reached forward to grapple in wrestling, but his strength was failing, and he could only flail weakly.

As Ricardt’s knee immediately struck Volka’s chin, he blacked out again.

Crash!

Thud.

This time about five seconds passed before Volka, lying face down in the sand, opened his eyes. It wasn’t that his body wouldn’t respond; he simply had no strength left.

He barely turned his head to look up and saw Ricardt gazing down at him.

“You said it yourself. It’s not over unless you surrender or die.”

Then Volka, bleeding from his broken nose and split lip, barely spoke while making wheezing sounds. His eyes were half-glazed over.

“……F, fu, ck you.”

“Is that so? Then I lost. That’s enough, right?”

Ricardt unwound the bandages on the spot, tossed them to the collapsed Volka, and walked away.

He received his cloak from one of the watching kids, picked up his shoes, and walked away without looking back.

An even heavier silence than before descended on the scene. The children couldn’t quite come to their senses, not knowing how to process this shocking event.

Volka lay face down in the sand for a while, unable to get up, his shoulders shaking as if he were crying.

The bandages Ricardt had been wearing were messily draped over Volka’s head. Even if it wasn’t intentional, it seemed like a mockery of the loser.

Ricardt, unsure where to put his things, stood around looking for a spot. Latecomers to the scene stopped in their tracks when they saw him.

None approached him or asked him to move. The passageway was jammed with kids like a congested road.

Then Ricardt noticed Boribori, the kid who had wrapped his hands in bandages.

“Hey, you. You know me, right? You wrapped my hands earlier.”

“…M-Me?”

“Yes, you. Where’s your spot?”

“M-Me?”

“Are you imitating an animal that says ‘me-me’ or something?”

“M-Me?”

“…”

Ricardt tried to ask gently with a smile, but by now he wondered if the kid was mocking him, so his expression turned cold.

The kids around Boribori pushed him forward, almost shoving him.

Ricardt and Boribori stood facing each other, with Boribori’s eyes darting around, unable to look Ricardt in the eye.

“If you have a condition, nod your head. I’ll understand.”

“…”

Boribori just stood there silently.

“Then if you were trying to mock me, please stop. Can you do that?”

“Y-Yes. N-No. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you…”

“Where’s your spot?”

Boribori pointed with his hand. It was near the far end of the lower bunk.

“Is there an empty spot next to you?”

Boribori turned around. The owner of that spot shook his head vigorously.

“There isn…….” (TL Note: Boribori is trying to say ‘There isn’t’ but due to his stuttering, he only manages to say ‘There is’.)

“Really? Then let’s stay together. Is that okay? Are you hurt?”

“N, no. I’m not hurt. It’s okay.”

“I’m new here, so I don’t know much. Help me out a bit.”?”

“Okay….”

Having chosen his spot, Ricardt went to his new place and unpacked his things. He shoved aside the messy belongings that had been there.

Normally, a newbie shouldn’t act like that, but none of the kids said anything.

Inside the dormitory, the atmosphere was uneasy, and no one spoke, making the place feel as silent as if cold water had been poured over everyone. Ricardt thought it must usually be a quiet place.

Boribori sat silently right next to Ricardt, but to anyone watching, he seemed very conscious of Ricardt’s presence.

Ricardt asked,

“How are the classes conducted?”

“Classes?”

“Yeah. They’re going to teach us something, right?”

“Well… for about a year, we go to the city to earn money, and during that time, we train our bodies or make friends on our own. For the remaining year, we use the money we’ve saved to pay a donation fee and attend classes.”

“I have some money. Would this be enough?”

Ricardt untied his money pouch and poured its contents onto the bed. It was the money he had obtained by selling the precious metals he had taken from the Vilton brothers’ heads and corpses. There were dozens of silver coins and even a few gold coins.

Boribori’s eyes widened. It was the first time in his life he had seen such a large sum of money.

“Uh… I’m not sure.”

Although Boribori had arrived before Ricardt, he had only been there for a month and didn’t know everything in detail.

“So, we’re just supposed to sleep here, earn money on our own, pay a donation fee to attend classes, and after two years, we leave here to work in the guild for three years, and after that, we either become real adventurers or take the final exam. Is that how it works?”

“Uh…… I guess? Maybe? But they do give us bread in the morning and evening. There’s a place to get it. But it’s so hard that it’s difficult to eat, so to have proper meals and live well, you need money anyway…”

Ricardt already had plenty of money. Of course, it wouldn’t be enough to buy good weapons and equipment later, but for now, it was more than enough for living expenses.

“I see. Thanks.”

“Huh? But, we’re not supposed to say thank you here……”

“Really? Ah, I get it. Sorry.”

“……We’re not supposed to say sorry either……”

“Haha, I see, it feels a bit like the military.”

“Military?”

“Yeah. Real comrades don’t need to say thank you or sorry to each other. Because I know I’d risk my life to save a comrade, and they’d do the same for me.”

Boribori cautiously looked at Ricardt. He seemed too young to have military experience. It might be a bluff, but seeing his fighting skills made it seem real…

“Ah, and hierarchy are important here. It decides who gets what spot, and when we pass each other in these narrow corridors, who steps aside first—those things are determined by hierarchy.”

“Hierarchy? Who decides that?”

“No one really decides it; everyone just knows.”

Even though there wasn’t an official ranking system, the kids knew who was the best fighter and the order of skill among them. These ranks were decided more concretely through actual challenges and fights.

Ricardt stretched his neck out to take a casual look at the kids in the dormitory. No matter how he looked at them, they were just kids. They all seemed weak, the kind you’d call ‘pathetic’, so he wondered what the point of establishing ranks was.

“So what’s your rank in the hierarchy?”

Ricardt asked.

“I don’t have one. I’m just a low class.”

“Low-class? That’s harsh. So, is it better to have a high rank to live comfortably here?”

“If you just give up on everything and live like a dead mouse, it’s easier. Then after two years, you can leave and look for other work.”

“…..That sounds pretty sad. By the way, I forgot to ask your name. I’m Ricky. You?”

As they talked, Boribori began to feel less afraid of Ricardt. At first, Ricardt had seemed like some sort of ghost, but now he seemed more human.

“I’m Boribori.”

But as soon as he said his name, there was a moment of silence. Ricardt’s face, which had been smiling as he spoke, once again turned cold.

“You are mocking me, aren’t you?”

“N-no! I-it’s true! My name really is Boribori!”

Ricardt glared at Boribori for a moment, not dropping his suspicious gaze. But then, the door on the opposite side opened and someone came in. It was Volka.

His nose and mouth area was covered in blood. He staggered in and slumped down on a lower bunk bed that wasn’t his original spot.

“What’s his rank?”

Ricardt asked. Boribori, calming his startled heart, answered.

“…He’s our leader…”