The Warrior’s Ballad

Translator: Willia

The world wasn't inhabited by humans alone. Moreover, humans were far from being the rulers of the world.

A single dragon could burn an entire city to ashes, and when a large-scale orc invasion occurred, people had no choice but to wait until it subsided like a storm.

However, whether fortunately or unfortunately, these things that humans could do absolutely nothing about were tales of a distant past.

People didn’t easily acknowledged things that weren’t right before their eyes. Furthermore, if those events had happened in the past, long before they were born, they might not even believe they existed at all.

In this way, humans simply occupied a small corner of the world in apathy, living with a false sense of safety. Just because you don’t believe something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, and just because you believe it doesn’t mean it necessarily does.

“...So, I’m saying there’s no need to open the lid of a pot full of vipers. That’s my point.”

Volka spoke as he poked at the flames in the abandoned pot with an iron skewer.

In a secluded clearing somewhere in Ernburg city, three people sat around a campfire late at night. Ricardt, Ice, and Volka.

“It’s just a request, Volka.”

"This isn't just any request, Ricky."

Volka was clearly opposed to the special request. Since he was the clan leader, Ricardt had no choice but to respect his opinion. And also, because they were friends.

He understood Volka’s reasons for dissuading him, so he couldn’t stubbornly insist on his own way.

“Maybe it’s not as serious as we think. It’s all second-hand stories. The guild might’ve just classified it as a special grade because they don’t know either.”

“You don’t need to taste shit to know it’s shit. I know someone who knows someone, a vampire hunter. It was back before the guild war when Delphi and I were only handling trivial requests. I happened to meet him. He said that while regular vampires are one thing, high-ranking vampires are practically demigods. Superior strength and speed compared to humans plus blood magic, and the boundless knowledge they’ve gained from living so long. The scariest thing is, of course, that they suck blood. If you were to get infected, Ricky, and become a vampire, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Kill me. Or no, I’ll handle it myself.”

“Ha... No, seriously listen.”

“Who is this person? The vampire hunter you’re talking about.”

Ice, who had been lost in thought, suddenly asked. The reason he was even here was that he had strongly insisted on joining this request himself.

However, the one who received the request in the first place was Ricardt, so he couldn’t make decisions unilaterally.

Volka stared silently at Ice. He remembered what Dunkel had once said, calling him someone who is crazy over becoming a Sword Master.

Volka had felt uneasy when they brought Ice in, but back then, it was Ricardt who had insisted on accepting him into the clan.

Still, Volka was the kind of person who, once he accepted someone, trusted them completely, so he didn’t dig up the past unnecessarily.

Ice had lived well with them so far, and the truth was that he had been a big help in managing their branch.

But Volka said what needed to be said.

“I know you have an important goal, Ice. But as the clan leader and as your friend, I have responsibilities and concerns for your safety. Let me ask one thing first. Ricky, why do you even want to do this request?”

“It’s not that I want to do it. It’s because I took it. And it’s my ‘first request’ after graduation. I don’t want to run away from it.”

Even with Sally’s warning, Ricardt was the one who chose the card. And to back down now after having made his choice would be shameful to him. That would be dishonorable behavior, and he didn't want to live that way.

Others might ask why he was taking such unnecessary risks, but perhaps that was the difference between extraordinary people and ordinary ones.

No matter what others said, once he made a decision, he would go through with it, and likewise, if he decided not to do something, no one could force him otherwise. It wasn’t just stubbornness, there was something deeper to it. It was part of his personality, something that couldn’t be helped.

Volka looked back and forth between Ricardt and Ice before speaking.

“Alright. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll invite the vampire hunter I know. Let’s hear what he has to say. After that, we’ll assess the situation, and if it seems manageable, I’ll support you. But if it’s something completely outrageous, I'm against it. What do you think?"

They weren’t students anymore. There needed to be a degree of professionalism in their work. Volka understood that, and so did Ricardt and Ice.

Both of them nodded simultaneously.

Two weeks passed after Volka mobilized his connections and enlisted the guild’s help to locate the vampire hunter.

It was raining outside. Because of this, more people were staying indoors and resting rather than engaging in outdoor activities.

However, those who had to meet contractual deadlines threw on cloaks and hoods to brave the rain, while others warmed themselves by the fire.

Three or four adventurers sat at a table, playing cards to stave off boredom. It didn’t look particularly fun, they just moved mechanically, placing cards down and flipping them over.

Delphi was near the bar, teaching some of the children their tasks, while Volka snored in front of the fireplace, listening to the sound of the rain.

It was a peaceful, lazy moment. For those working outside, the rain must have been a nuisance, but for those resting, its sound was the perfect remedy.

Suddenly, the door open. The sound of the rain outside became even clearer.

A man wearing a soaked hat and black cloak entered with heavy footsteps. He was carrying a large leather bundle.

Thump. Thump. Thump...

Though his face couldn't be fully seen as the brim of his hat covered his eyes, the unsettling atmosphere was palpable enough. He clearly wasn't just any passerby, nor did he seem to be a low-rank adventurer.

Delphi gestured to the adventurers playing cards, signaling them to wake Volka, then spoke to the man.

“What brings you here?”

“Hunter Rekard. I was told the branch leader here was looking for me.”

He removed his hat, revealing his face. He had an unkempt beard and a rugged appearance, yet his eyes were surprisingly sharp and intelligent.

“Volka? Ah, wait, are you perhaps... the vampire hunter?”

“Shh!”

“?”

"Don't speak carelessly about those monsters. You never know when or where they might be listening. Just call me Rekard, if you would.”

What in the... While Delphi was internally dumbfounded, she nodded in agreement for now.

Soon enough, Volka, now awake and wiping the drool from his chin, stood up.

“Ah, so you’ve come. You’re the vampire hunter, correct?”@@novelbin@@

“...Call me Rekard. Could I borrow your fire?”

“As much as you need. Follow me. There’s a fireplace upstairs as well.”

Volka led Rekard up to the third floor. It was a cozy, attic-like space.

There was no need to duck, as the ceiling was at just the right height for an average person. However, because the roof was directly above, the sound of the rain was particularly loud.

Volka lit a fire in the small stove connected to the chimney and said,

“I’ll go call the others. Please wait here for a moment.”

He went back downstairs, woke up Ricardt, who had been napping after checking his gear, and brought Ice, who had been organizing documents with Boribori.

“Hello, I’m Ricky.”

“Ice.”

Ricardt and Ice, both dressed in casual clothes, greeted him first.

Rekard had hung his wet cloak on the coat rack near the stove and was carefully inspecting the string of his crossbow. Around him were several stakes and a wooden mallet.

“Rekard”

Volka, Ricardt, and Ice sat across from Rekard with the fireplace between them.

“What business do adventurers have with me?”

“We wanted to ask you a few things about high-ranking vampires.”

Ricardt replied. At those words, Rekard immediately wore a somber expression.

“High-ranking vampires... May I ask why you’re inquiring about that?”

“To kill one, if possible. Before that, we needed to learn more about the prey, so we brought in an expert.”

“Hmm... While I’ve heard of the reputation of the Red Cloak and Viola on my way here, but this isn’t the sort of conversation one can have with a light heart.”

“We’re not taking it lightly. We make a living with our swords, there’s nothing light about that.”

Ricardt’s words made sense, but he still looked unmistakably young as he said them. Rekard quietly studied Ricardt.

There was an odd contrast between his youthful appearance and the impressive reputation he carried, creating a mysterious atmosphere. Although this was his first time meeting Ricardt, Rekard could sense the boy’s extraordinariness.

“I’m not trying to dismiss you. Have you ever seen tiger hunters? The ones who catch those massive tigers that can rip knights apart, those hunters are surprisingly ordinary people. They’re not even particularly skilled fighters. Yet, just three people catch a tiger. Climbing the mountain with just a stick each. Vampire hunting is like that. Your swordsmanship? It likely won’t be of much use.”

“I understand.”

Surprisingly, Ricardt acknowledged this calmly. Someone with excessive pride in their swordsmanship might have felt insulted, but he showed no such reaction. This was a time for listening and learning.

Rekard found this attitude somewhat surprising.

“Alright, then let’s do this. I’ll teach you how to identify and hunt vampires. After that, I’ll show you firsthand how to capture one in person. We’ll talk about high-ranking vampires after that. If you can’t handle this much, then hunting a high-ranking vampire is utterly out of the question.”

Ricardt glanced at Volka and Ice, then nodded.

Seeing the unexpectedly docile adventurers, Rekard nodded as well before continuing.

“There are two main ways to hunt vampires. The first is to attack their resting place after sunrise. You don’t need to open the coffin, just place a stake on the lid and drive it through. The second method is to burn them entirely. But this method isn't very good. They don't die as quickly as you'd expect. However, as long as they don't get into water, they'll keep burning, so if you weaken them with silver weapons, they'll eventually burn to death." (TL Note: Learn more about stakes and how they can be used to kill vampires on the given link if you are not familiar: /wiki/Wooden_Stakes)

"That's simpler than I expected. But how do you find where their coffins are?"

“That’s the key point. Proper vampires have slaves under their command. You capture and torture them to extract the location of their hideout. Don’t feel guilty about it, they’re traitors to humanity. They’re the ones supplying humans to the vampires.”

“Do we need garlic or holy water?”

Ice asked. He seemed to believe in such things.

“Garlic is misinformation, it doesn’t work. Holy water can cause minor burns but isn’t lethal. Just remember this: always carry out the attack after sunrise. A stake is enough to kill them. The rest are auxiliary tools. And lastly, never engage a vampire head-on.”

Since this came from an expert, Ricardt simply nodded in agreement.

Since he, Ice, and Volka had never seen a vampire in their lives, he thought it wouldn't be bad to see one first and then make judgments.

“Vampires usually reside in large cities. They avoid small and medium towns or rural areas because they’re discovered too quickly. However, I recently acquired information that one is hiding in a nearby city, Gates. Once we’re fully prepared, let’s go take care of that monster. Stay behind me, and you’ll be safe.” (TL Note: 'Gates' is the city name)

“Understood. We’re always ready, so we’ll leave as soon as you’re prepared, Mr. Rekard.”

"Very well."

Ricardt kept his conversation with Rekard strictly professional. There was no attempt at personal, humanizing exchanges to get to know each other. It wasn’t out of indifference or coldness, but because each of them was an expert in their respective fields. They weren’t there to make friends, after all.

Rekard set out three days later. Ricardt and Ice packed their gear and followed him. They crossed the main river by ferry and then headed west.

The city of Gates was a full day’s journey away. Whether that was far or near depended on perspective, but the idea of a vampire living in such a place was unsettling and sent chills down their spines.

Rekard met with someone, whether a colleague or another professional in the same line of work was unclear, and gathered information before they all dropped their belongings at an inn.

At dawn, Rekard led the two of them into an alleyway. After walking for about two minutes, they arrived at a neighborhood that wasn’t quite a slum but housed people who lived hand-to-mouth. The faint stench of filth lingered in the air.

Surprisingly, the vampire’s hideout was boldly hidden among these very people.

Rekard entered a run-down building that looked fit for vagrants, then opened a cover leading to a basement. As soon as he did, Ricardt caught a familiar scent, the overwhelming stench of death.

Rekard took the lead, holding the torch aloft, and descended first. Ricardt and Ice followed closely behind.

Not long after, they reached the basement, where a coffin stood upright against the wall.

But the lid of the coffin was open. Rekard felt a chill run down his spine. His colleague had betrayed him.

“It’s a trap.”

Clang.

The sound of the cover closing echoed from above. Instinctively, Rekard swung the torch toward the source of the sound. But the voice that followed came from the ceiling.

“That rat bastard.”

When Ricardt looked up, something leaped down and landed on the floor with a thud. A black cloak fluttered like wings.

The figure that landed had skin as pale as a tuberculosis patient. Its blood-red eyes glowed menacingly in the torchlight.

"The same goes for you, Rekard - a long tail gets stepped on."

Just as Rekard hunted vampires, the vampires had been hunting Rekard. And it had to be now, when Ricardt and Ice were with him.

To make matters worse, though the sun was up outside, not a single beam of sunlight reached the basement.

Without answering, Rekard quickly flung holy water into the air and shouted.

“Don’t look back - run!”

He then drew a silver dagger, but the vampire used its cloak to shield itself from the holy water and immediately lunged for Rekard.

However, before it could strike, a flash of light, like a snowflake in the dark basement, shot through the air.

It was Ice’s sword.

Thwack!

The vampire’s arm was severed. Rekard instinctively squeezed his eyes shut and had no idea what had just happened, while the vampire, for a fleeting moment, was struck with confusion, What just happened?

With monstrous reflexes, the vampire quickly tried to create distance. However, the space was too cramped. Ricardt, with lightning speed, drew his sword and charged at him.

The vampire bared his fangs and kicked off the wall to sink his teeth into Ricardt. It was a burst of speed and force that a normal human would have no chance of reacting to.

“Kyaaaak!”

However, Ricardt’s sense of distance and visual tracking were also beyond human level. Though the only light in the room came from the torch, he watched the vampire intently with determined eyes as if piercing through the darkness.

More importantly, he seemed to know exactly what the vampire was going to do, almost as if he could see the future. His opponent’s gaze, current posture, the angle of his joints, his agitated state, his psyche, Ricardt instinctively combined all this sensory information in an instant.

The precise moment, the precise force, and the precise angle. A clean strike, executed so perfectly that there was no need for a second attempt.

Whoosh!

Thud!

The sound of the sword slicing through the air was followed by a crisp, clean noise, like cutting a radish in one stroke.

The vampire’s head flew off. But the headless body didn’t lose momentum; it crashed into the opposite wall.

Thunk! Crash!

Ricardt calmly stood under the flickering torchlight, staring down at the severed vampire head.

The facial muscles spasmed uncontrollably for a moment before stiffening. Then, in an instant, the head shriveled up like a dried-out mummy. It was a truly grotesque sight, but Ricardt remained unperturbed. Interesting.

After confirming the kill, Ricardt turned to Rekard and said,

“It seems they die just fine when you cut their heads off, even without driving a stake through them.”

But Rekard couldn’t respond. He simply stared at Ricardt in a daze, as if his brain had short-circuited. Only after a long pause did he finally manage to stammer out a reply.

“...What?”