The Warrior’s Ballad

Translator: Willia

If one claimed they weren’t trembling, it would be a lie. To step into an abyss where not a single ray of sunlight reached.

But was this trembling out of fear? Or was it anticipation? And if it was anticipation, what exactly were they expecting?

Ricardt, unlike usual, did not sling his sword over one shoulder but instead carried it in one hand as he followed Remania. It was so he could draw it at any moment.

The "Rose Garden" theater had a passageway deep inside that connected to the catacombs. Honestly, Ricardt had expected this.

Ricardt and Ice walked behind Remania down the dark passage connected to the catacombs. The sharp click-clack of Remania's heels echoed through the increasingly thick darkness.

As they went further, the darkness deepened endlessly, and by the time they reached a staircase leading downward, it had grown so intense that even their hands were no longer visible.

When Ricardt and Ice were completely engulfed by the darkness, unable to take another step, a pair of glowing eyes, like those of a beast, flashed within the darkness. However, unlike the green eyes of other beasts, these eyes glowed red.

Dozens of pairs of red eyes gleamed from high and low places, from near and far. For an ordinary person, it would have been a terrifying scene enough to faint on the spot.

Ricardt was not afraid, but he did feel a sense of unease. His senses remained sharp as ever even within the darkness, but the sheer number of glowing eyes was concerning.

Would there be a chance of victory if they fought with their backs to the wall? It would be dangerous to leave this narrow passage, and such thoughts flickered through his mind.

As if sensing the unease, Remania, who was leading the way, snapped her fingers. At that, the torches hanging on the walls suddenly burst into flames, illuminating the area.

The revealed space was vast, with a high ceiling and walls riddled with holes like a honeycomb. Inside each of those holes lay a coffin.

Some vampires were asleep in their coffins, retreating from the light of day, while others were still awake.

Among them, some had their mouths smeared with fresh, crimson blood, while in the corner, the mutilated corpse of someone who had been tortured to death was lying in an unrecognizable state.

The cold, damp air unique to the basement enveloped Ricardt and Ice. It wasn’t freezing, but the chill seemed to seep into their hearts.

Ricardt boldly scanned the vampires around him. But something felt strange. It was nothing other than the lifeless, hollow gaze of the vampires.

There was no hostility directed toward humans, nor even the slightest curiosity or predatory desire. During the performance, they had laughed so loudly and delighted in mocking humans.

“They’re just shells. All they do is mimic pleasure.”

As they entered the passage leading deeper into the catacombs, Remania spoke. Her words belittled the other vampires, but she didn’t care whether they heard her or not.

Looking at the vampires that seemed so empty, Ricardt felt as though he had glimpsed the true face of vampires.

If they wanted to, it would be easy for them to find appetizing prey. Moreover, they were creatures who had mastered all kinds of depraved pleasures. But in the end, all that awaited them was emptiness.

Eventually, they would undergo the process of ghoulification and become ghouls, beings that lost their intelligence and were driven by insatiable hunger.

Ironically, while Reman, who chose starvation and an extended death, attained a higher level of intellect, those who pursued pleasure were left with nothing in the end.

And yet, they told humans to live in pursuit of their desires, it sounded like the pointless grumbling of a drowning man trying to pull others down with him. The vampires had ultimately deceived even themselves.

As they entered the true catacombs, the walls were completely covered in human skulls. The sheer number of deaths represented there was so overwhelming it defied comprehension.

At a point where the path branched off, a massive central pillar stood. It, too, was made entirely of piled-up skulls.

Passing by it, Remania led Ricardt and Ice further and further into the depths of the abyss.

Then, they came across vampires undergoing ghoulification and eventually even saw ghouls hunched over, wandering aimlessly through the catacombs.

These creatures glared at Ricardt and Ice with madness-filled eyes, but they were so overwhelmed by Remania’s presence that they didn’t dare attack.

Still, they followed from a certain distance, and over time their numbers grew until they filled the passage completely, blocking the way back.

Fortunately, as they kept walking, they reached a point where the path branched into two. At the crossroads, a boy was sitting. Around him were melted candles, with dozens of burning flames illuminating the area.

The boy, with a thin, frail body, sat cross-legged, his upper body bare. His arms hung limply at his sides, and his head tilted slightly to the side, drooping as though he had lost consciousness. It almost seemed like he was asleep.

However, as Ricardt looked at the boy, he momentarily forgot all the other dangers and unease. He was stunned, as he felt an indescribable, sacred aura emanating from him.

"My father, my lover, my son, my god, Armand."

Remania said. She knelt, bowed her upper body, and reverently kissed the tip of the boy's limp fingers. It was an attitude of extreme worship.

Ice was just as bewildered. He had expected some massive monster or someone akin to Reman, but all he saw was a frail boy who looked like he was on the verge of death.

Yet Ice’s heart pounded loudly as he looked at Armand. It wasn’t because they looked alike, but rather because he was reminded of his deceased younger brother. The resemblance wasn’t physical, but for some reason, the two seemed to overlap.

“You okay?”

Ricardt asked as he held onto Ice, whose breathing was becoming increasingly labored. Ice barely managed to nod.

“Y-Yeah…”

Ricardt exchanged a glance with Ice, signaling with his eyes that if anything went wrong, they would take the left path. At that moment, Remania, who was kneeling beside Armand and gazing up at him with a desperate expression, spoke.

“Blood.”

Ricardt turned to look behind him. The ghouls had completely blocked the path, writhing and seething. If they weren’t careful, the horde might surge forward at any moment. Ahead, there was Armand and Remania.

Even so, Ricardt thought, a promise is a promise. He readied himself, prepared to draw his sword at any second, and pulled out a dagger. Rolling up his left sleeve, he slashed his forearm.

Blood quickly welled up and dripped down. The ghouls behind them became restless.

Although humans might not notice it, the scent of fresh blood was unmistakable to such foul creatures. It spread through the air, intense and tantalizing. Remania looked up at the bowed Armand with a pleading expression. Please, please, open your eyes.

But even at the scent of the purest blood, Armand remained motionless, his head still bowed, his eyes closed. Did that mean the bet was won? Remania had said that if Armand showed no reaction, Ricardt could do as he pleased, kill him or spare him.

And if Ricardt killed him, the mission would be complete.

But just then, a single tear fell down Armand’s cheek. Remania’s eyes widened as she looked up from her prostrate position. It was the first reaction he had shown in the decades since he had been abducted.

Armand’s lips slowly parted. He spoke.

His voice was like the sound of a glass bell or the gentle ripple of water when a single drop falls into a calm pond.

“It’s not your fault, Ice.”

Could this be what it felt like to hear the voice of a god? There seemed to be a divine power imbued in his very words.

Ice was so shocked that he could barely breathe, while Ricardt’s eyes widened in disbelief. What was happening?

Armand opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at Ice. They weren’t the crimson eyes typical of vampires. Instead, they were a crystal-clear turquoise, pure and serene.

He stood up and approached Ice, placing his delicate hand on Ice’s arm. Then he spoke.

“Let’s go. This place is dangerous.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Ice’s hand and began walking down the right path. Ricardt, utterly baffled, could only follow, while Remania was equally stunned and frozen in place.

"Father!"

Remania shouted.

Armand, who had been leading Ice away, turned to look at her and said.

“There are no more chances left for you, Remania. You will die here.”

Although he didn’t fully understand what it meant, it seemed like thunder from a clear sky to Remania. She remained frozen, kneeling in place, and Ricardt, thinking "to hell with it," decided to follow after Armand and Ice for now.

As he chased after them, he glanced back and saw Remania staring blankly in their direction, her face filled with disbelief. Ricardt instinctively felt that something was going wrong, so he drew his sword just in case.

"Hey, do you know the way out?"

Ricardt asked Armand.

"Yeah, if things are still the same as before."

"And when exactly was that?"

"Hmm... about 600 years ago, maybe? I’m not sure. I’ve lost track of time."

Ricardt felt like he couldn’t trust this guy, but then again, he had no idea how to navigate the labyrinth either.

Meanwhile, Ice seemed completely dazed. That was because Armand’s voice had stirred up his deeply rooted sense of guilt.

"Snap out of it, Ice. Get a grip. Come on, focus!"

Ricardt said, shaking Ice’s shoulders vigorously.

"Huh, what?"

"Pull yourself together. Something’s gone wrong, and we need to focus on getting out of here. The sun’s up outside, so it’ll be safe once we’re out."

"Ricky’s right. Let’s get out of here for now,"

Armand said. Ricardt tilted his head in confusion.

"How do you know my name?"

"I saw it in a dream."

"What are you, some kind of prophet or something?"

"Yeah"

Armand answered nonchalantly. It seemed that living for so long while retaining his sanity had granted him some unique abilities. The problem was that it apparently required fasting for 600 years, which was, well, quite the price to pay.

"What?"

"But I can’t always tell whether it’s about the past or the future. One thing’s for sure, though, Ricky, you’ll eventually have to face your past self. Only then can you move forward."

"..."

"You’ll encounter it. Don’t worry too much about it. Pain is the nourishment that helps the soul grow. You can do it. No, you’ve already done it. What’s going to happen will happen, and it’s the same as what’s already happened. The future and the past are one and the same."

What the hell is he talking about? By now, Ricardt was utterly baffled, rendered speechless by the absurdity of it all.

Still, whether the prophecy was true or not, Armand’s voice had an entrancing quality to it. But it wasn’t sinister. On the contrary, it felt sacred, as if it carried a strength that inspired hope.

But then it happened. Suddenly, a ghoul lunged at them from the front, jaws wide open. Ricardt reacted instinctively, thrusting his sword straight into its mouth.

"Kyaaah!"

He kicked the ghoul’s body away and pulled his sword free, its blade now slick with blood. He hastily wiped the blood on his clothes when he heard the sound of shuffling and growling behind them. It seemed the horde of ghouls that had been following them earlier was closing in.

"Hey, can't you use magic or something? This doesn't look good."

"Sorry. I’m too weak from hunger."

Though he seemed to have the gift of foresight, it appeared he had lost the vampiric strength he once possessed.

"Want to drink my blood?"

Ricardt offered boldly, holding out his still-bleeding arm.

Armand looked a bit taken aback by Ricardt’s reckless behavior and let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. After starving for centuries, the idea of drinking blood now seemed laughable.

Meanwhile, the sound of the pursuing ghouls grew louder. Ricardt, without hesitation, began hacking at the piles of skulls and bones stacked along the walls, causing them to collapse into makeshift barriers. He was trying to create obstacles in their path.

"I'll follow your footsteps, so go ahead."

Ricardt instructed. Ice hesitated, but Armand grabbed his arm and began pulling him along.

"Ricky’s going to live much longer than you, so don’t worry about him."

Ricardt continued swinging his sword, knocking down piles of bones to form barricades. The grotesque growls of the ghouls and the sound of their frenzied approach grew closer.

Eventually, the ghouls surged toward Ricardt. Like rabid dogs, they lunged at him with their jaws snapping, trying to bite anything they could.

Remaining calm, Ricardt retreated step by step, swinging his sword precisely. He decapitated one, split another, and continued slashing. If even one strike missed, the resulting gap would allow the horde to overwhelm him like a tidal wave, leaving him with no chance of survival.

But Ricardt’s strikes never missed. The ghouls stumbled over the skull barricades, tripping and blocking each other’s paths, and their frenzied charge quickly subsided.

In an instant, the ghouls and their corpses piled up to the ceiling. Seeing this as his chance, Ricardt turned and sprinted away, following the distant sound of Ice and Armand’s footsteps.

Then, without warning, the torches lighting the catacombs suddenly extinguished with a whoosh. Darkness consumed Ricardt in an instant.

No matter how sharp Ricardt’s senses were, it was impossible to distinguish between living and non-living entities in such pitch blackness. He advanced cautiously, feeling his way along the walls, but the distance between him and Ice and Armand widened rapidly.

Ricardt began to feel increasingly isolated. While he wasn’t afraid, he couldn’t help the quickening of his heartbeat and the roughness of his breathing.

Then, it happened.

“Well, looks like I’ll have to drink your blood after all.”

It was Remania’s voice. She attacked from the front. Even though Ricardt couldn’t see a thing, he ducked at just the right moment to evade her strike and counterattacked immediately.

Whoosh! Slice!

Their attacks and counterattacks exchanged almost simultaneously. Caught off guard by Ricardt’s response, Remania recoiled in surprise.

Ricardt stood still, staring into the darkness, his nerves on edge.

In contrast, Remania, watching Ricardt in the darkness, tilted her head. He definitely can’t see me.

To test him, she launched another attack with inhuman speed. Her body twisted, flipping upside down so her feet touched the ceiling as she lunged to slash Ricardt’s throat with her claws.

But the moment she moved, Ricardt’s eyes locked onto her with precision. What the...?

Clang!

Remania, who wasn’t just any ordinary vampire, instinctively blocked Ricardt’s counterattack with her claws. She was inches away from having her neck sliced, and the close call left her rattled.

She stepped back and stared at Ricardt from a distance. From her vantage point, it was clear his vision was completely obstructed. His unfocused gaze into the darkness confirmed it. To her, the situation made no sense.

“Of course. My brother wouldn’t send just anyone.”

With that, Remania invoked her power, summoning ghouls. The sound of their frenzied charge echoed as they came rushing toward him.

Startled, Ricardt bolted. But with nothing visible ahead, his pace was inevitably slow.

Meanwhile, Remania kept toying with him, persistently harassing him without delivering a decisive blow. Her actions were meant to hold Ricardt in place, tripping him up and slowing him down.

“Where are you going, little boy? Come to your big sister!”

She shouted with a mocking laugh.

Ricardt lashed out in the direction of her voice, but between defending himself and trying to escape, he was too preoccupied. More and more scratches and wounds appeared on his limbs. All he could manage was to protect his vital areas.

“Ah, you look so delicious!”

Remania taunted, her voice ringing with derision. Having been abandoned by her father and driven mad, she seemed to have decided to simply revel in the chaos.

Ricardt’s composure began to crumble under the strain.

Then, from somewhere in the catacombs, Armand’s voice rang out.

“Ricky! Drink the holy oil!”

Ricardt fumbled in his coat and pulled out the vial of Ilya’s Holy Oil. He doubted something like this could possibly turn the tide, but with no other options, he uncapped it and drank it down.

The viscous liquid entered his mouth. The strong scent of olives filled his senses as it slid smoothly down his throat. But all it did was coat his tongue with greasiness; no change followed.

Figures... this kind of thing is just a superstition… Ricardt thought to himself.

But at that very moment, he felt something. It was as though a wind had begun to stir within him.

The wind coursing through Ricardt’s body quickly filled every inch of him. It surged wildly, without rhythm, through his entire being - from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes, flooding his heart, liver, lungs, every organ, blood vessel, and muscle.

It was something entirely different from a Mana Drive, something on a completely different plane of existence. Yet, there was a strange sense of familiarity to it, or perhaps not. It felt both familiar and unfamiliar at once, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

Was it a nostalgic yearning for the lost innocent times? A longing for home? Had Vesprim returned safely to his homeland? What about his brothers on the battlefield? What had become of Caldebert?

Random questions bubbled to the surface of his mind. Memories of his past life and current one began to blur and meld together, making it difficult to discern what was real. Which life was the true one?

In that moment, the wind inside him transformed into a raging fire. Ricardt experienced a flash of intense pain, as if his brain were being scorched, and then his consciousness blacked out.

Ricardt stood motionless, leaning against the wall, his head bowed. Seeing him like this, Remania smirked and taunted him.

“What’s this? Have you given up already?”

But then it happened. Ricardt, who had been bowing his head, suddenly raised it, and golden flames were blazing in his eyes.

In that instant, a wave of unease washed over Remania, no, not just unease, but a raw and overwhelming terror of death.

At that exact moment, the ghouls, which had been charging ferociously, swarmed over Ricardt in a tidal wave. There was no chance to dodge or defend; they simply overwhelmed him.

For a fleeting moment, Remania felt relief. It’s over. Phew.

But then, a holy, flaming sword erupted from the mass of ghouls, slicing through them all in one stroke.

Shhhhhhk!

Blood rained down in torrents, and chunks of flesh splattered everywhere.

Ricardt, now drenched head to toe in blood, stood amidst the carnage. His burning eyes glowed fiercely as he pierced through the darkness with his gaze, this time locking directly onto Remania. The golden flames danced furiously along the blade of his sword.

Remania froze, speechless, her body paralyzed. This wasn’t human… But what in the world was this?

"How dare you stand before me."

Ricardt growled, his voice filled with boundless hatred and rage. For the first time in ages, Remania felt her long-dead heart pounding furiously.

Ricardt no longer needed to react to his opponent’s movements or counter their strength. He could simply cut through everything in his path.

Remania, sensing the danger, fled at incredible speed. But before she could fully escape, Ricardt’s flaming sword pierced through her sensuous figure from behind. With a single upward slash, he cleaved her body in two.

Remania died without even a scream. Her body, split in half, collapsed onto the ancient, dusty floor of the catacombs, reduced to nothing more than a rotting piece of flesh.

Ricardt stood over her lifeless remains, staring down at them. What… is this? The thought crossed his mind for a brief moment before Ice’s distant voice reached his ears.

“Ricky!”

Ice’s shout seemed to bypass his ears and strike directly into his brain. In an instant, Ricardt’s consciousness snapped back to normal. At the same time, the golden flames that had been burning in his eyes and along his sword extinguished.

Standing alone, Ricardt looked around, dazed. He remembered only that they had been trying to escape. He immediately bolted toward the direction of the voice.

Before long, he found Ice and Armand surrounded by ghouls. Behind them was a barrier of iron bars. The exit, unlike 600 years ago, had been sealed off.

Ice was fighting desperately, protecting Armand, while Ricardt slashed through the ghouls from behind and joined them.

"Did you drink the holy oil!?"

Armand blurted out abruptly.

“I think I did, but I don’t really remember.”

“Good enough. Now, open this.”

Armand said, pointing at the iron bars.

What is he talking about? Ricardt thought. Shouldn’t they be cutting through the ghouls and looking for another exit instead?

“Hurry!”

Armand urged.

Ricardt, without fully understanding why, dropped his sword and grabbed the iron bars with his hands.

Gritting his teeth and using all his strength, Ricardt pulled hard, and at some point, the iron bars bent like softened taffy. Ricardt’s eyes widened in disbelief. Why is this bending? Is the metal weak?

In the meantime, Armand grabbed Ice by the hem of his clothes and pulled him through the gap in the bars. Ricardt quickly followed, while the ghouls pursued them.

However, before long, sunlight came pouring down in a straight beam. The ghouls couldn’t chase them any further.

Armand, still holding Ice’s hand, threw himself into the light. Suddenly, they were on a beach on the outskirts of Harlen. The cool sound of crashing waves filled the air.

Armand gripped Ice’s hand tightly and ran across the sandy shore. They sprinted for a while, but soon, Armand’s skin began to smolder and emit wisps of smoke.

Startled, Ice finally realized that Armand was a vampire and tried to stop him.

But Armand’s arm came off weakly in Ice’s grasp, and he collapsed onto the soft sand.

“Ah, the sun… after a thousand years. I forgot about this. Hehe…”

Lying on the sand, Armand laughed. Ricardt, who had followed close behind, quickly took off his cloak and tried to cover Armand’s body. But it wasn’t enough.

“It’s fine… This was always meant to happen. No, it already happened.”

The midday sun continued to burn Armand’s body. Slowly, his form turned to ash, fading into a dull gray. Ricardt and Ice could do nothing but watch.

“Dreaming prophetic dreams for so long… it starts to feel like meeting old friends, even if they aren’t born yet. Silly, right? Ice… your brother… he didn’t blame you… So, you need to be happy. I just really wanted to tell you that... Ah… Ahh... Ahhh…”

The sunlight mercilessly burned Armand’s body. He closed his eyes, enduring the pain as his body trembled like someone feverish.

“Ricky you're already......”

Armand seemed like he wanted to leave Ricardt with some final words. But before he could finish, the sunlight completely consumed him. The last bits of his flesh turned to ash, fading into gray.

The boy-shaped mound of ashes soon crumbled with a faint sound, pshhh, and collapsed entirely. Ricardt and Ice watched, their hearts sinking.

The sea breeze swept the ashes away, and the returning waves carried them out to the ocean.

On the beautiful coastline, an indescribable emotion wrapped around Ricardt and Ice.

They had come here to kill him. They hadn’t even known him for long. So why did this lingering sadness weigh so heavily on their hearts?

For the first time, the sun felt hateful.

The scattered ashes, the endless sound of the waves - that was all that remained.

Chapter 14 – The Unforgiven. End.