“What… what is that?”
Startled, the bandits hauled on their reins. The rider who had been about to strike Hans went limp in the saddle. His horse sensed something wrong and slowed.
Thock!
A short distance away, Edward landed.
Thud.
A severed head—still spraying blood—dropped to the dirt.
The young lord?
Only then did Hans understand. From a rooftop, Edward had leapt, cut the rider’s throat as he passed over the galloping horse, and touched down on the ground.
It had happened so fast that neither Hans nor the bandits had truly seen it.
Good heavens.
Leaping from a roof, taking only the rider’s neck on a moving horse, and landing cleanly? Even Hans, no fighter, knew that was no ordinary feat. The bandits—men who lived by violence—were shocked into stillness.
“Damn it! He’s only one man! Get him!”
Snapping out of it, the bandits charged.
“Back away. It’s dangerous,” Edward said to Hans.
“They took my wife,” Hans blurted.
“First—save yourself.”
Hans ran, but not far. No matter how strong the young lord was, five mounted bandits were too many. The others had fled; if anyone was going to help, it had to be him.
He scooped up a rock. He wasn’t confident he could hit anything, but it was all he could do.
Huh?
As he turned, ready to throw, a new shock froze him.
Clang! Clang!
Edward faced the five riders alone—and wasn’t being pushed back at all.
They slashed at him as they thundered past. He sidestepped the horses and flicked their blades aside in the same breath.
Slash!
“Gah!”
He split the side of a rider as the horse swept by. At the same time, he blocked another strike one-handed—while the other hand shaped a spell.
Fwoosh!
Flames burst from his palm and slammed into a bandit’s chest.
“Aaagh!”
Screaming, the man toppled from the saddle.
It was common sense: cavalry beat infantry. One well-trained rider was worth ten men on foot. That was why lords poured fortunes into horseflesh.
This makes no sense.
Yet here, in open ground—on terrain that favored cavalry—Edward fought five mounted bandits without a spear, and they floundered against him.
“Waaah!”
As the tide turned decisively toward Edward, soldiers arrived, bristling with long spears.
“Monster…”
“Another time.”
The three surviving riders wheeled their horses to flee.
Edward sprinted to a riderless mount that lingered near its fallen master, dragged the corpse down, and sprang into the saddle.
“Secure the perimeter and tend the wounded!”
“Yes, my lord!” the soldiers roared back.
They were on foot; chasing cavalry was pointless. Better to fortify and protect the people.
“I’ll bring your wife back,” Edward said, catching Hans’s eye.
“Be careful, my lord.”
Edward dipped his head once and kicked his horse into a gallop, pursuing the bandits. He rode so naturally that Hans forgot Edward had rarely ridden at all due to his health.
“Check on the townsfolk first,” Sergeant Patrick barked.
“Yes, sir!”
As the soldiers spread out, Hans trudged toward the outskirts, clutching his useless rock and the threadbare hope in his chest.
“Huh?”
A dust plume rose at the edge of the fields. Returning bandits? No—something was off. Four horses, but only one rider.
“Young lord!”
Edward galloped in, leading three spare mounts by their reins.
“A-are you all right?”
Up close, he was drenched in blood. Even his pale face was streaked red.
“It’s not mine,” he said, flatly.
“Hans!”
A woman peeked from behind him on the saddle.
“Jane!”
Hans ran to his wife, tears spilling.
“Careful—left foot first,” Edward guided. “Hans, take her weight.”
Following his directions, Jane slid down safely. The moment her feet touched earth, she fell into Hans’s arms, and he crushed her to his chest, shaking with relief.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
Her face was a mess of tears.
“Thank you, my lord. I don’t know how we can ever repay—”
Hans dropped to his knees and bowed, Jane with him.
What was I thinking…
He had wanted to leave this land. Edward’s small miracles had nudged him back to farming, but that had been momentum more than conviction. Realistically, there was little hope of a harvest. He had even given up on the children stolen by raiders.
But now his mind was made up.
I will never forget this.
Without Edward, he would have lost his wife today—and likely his own life. It was a debt a lifetime could not repay.
He would not leave the territory unless Edward told him to go. He would devote himself, body and soul, to the young lord.
“I only did a lord’s duty. Enough—stand up.”
Edward helped them to their feet.
“My lord!”
Frederick arrived with soldiers in tow.
“Are you unharmed?”
“I’m fine. What about the other side?”
“We swept it. The stragglers have withdrawn.”
“Anyone wounded or taken?”
“No, my lord.”
“Good. How many raiders were there?”
“I saw four.”
“Ten total, counting the ones here. Not enough to sack a whole domain.”
“Agreed. Compared to before, it’s a fifth of what they brought.”
“They’ll be back soon,” Edward said.
Shadows crept over the people’s faces.
***
“Captain, do we really need to go now? We’ll be stripping the place clean in two weeks anyway.”
“We were supposed to send ten this time. Three are missing. If we don’t match the numbers and the deadline in the contract, we don’t get paid in full!”
The captain snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut. Conan scowled at the order he’d been saddled with.
“Couldn’t you send the others? Why me—”
“They died because you treat the slaves like punching bags! How many times have I told you to stop beating them?”
“They wail all night! How’s anyone supposed to sleep? Why not put them farther away from camp?”
“And when they run? Will you answer for it?”
Conan grumbled inwardly but held his tongue.
“No more whining. Take your squad and bring me three more. We start a tight schedule tomorrow, so finish it tonight.”
Cursing under his breath, Conan trudged out of the tent. Thus began the unplanned raid.
***
That was what Edward pulled from the bandit’s soul—memories ripped straight out.
Definitely not ordinary bandits.
They had structure, like a mercenary company broken into squads. Even the concern over contracts was unusual. True raiders wouldn’t care about paperwork.
And tomorrow, they had some other “tight schedule.”
If I kill them all, I’ll find out.
By taking Conan’s soul, Edward had even learned the location of their base. All he had to do was cut off the head.
The problem was the numbers—nearly fifty of them. Even Edward couldn’t crush that many alone.
But there is a way.
***
The next day.
“William’s gone?”
“Yes, my lord,” Frederick replied.
“What did he say?”
“That he was bored.”
“Bored… in a place that gets raided by bandits in broad daylight?”
“Exactly.”
Frederick’s voice carried faint reproach. To him, William’s strength was wasted in stubborn neglect. Edward agreed. William was their strongest fighter besides himself—if only he could be convinced to stay.
But William’s bond with the villagers was poisoned beyond repair.
“Don’t worry. He’ll be back,” Edward said.
After all, William always came back. He could have gone anywhere—joined a mercenary company, made a fortune with his strength. But he lingered, circling the very domain that rejected him. He had rushed home when he heard Edward was at death’s door. He snarled, yes, but underneath, he longed for recognition.
Edward had seen that—and aimed straight for it.
Halfway there already. The rest… time will handle.
The flicker in William’s eyes when Edward had apologized proved it.
***
That evening, the bandits never came.
Revenge for their dead mattered less than honoring their contract. They would be back—likely in two weeks.
***
“Frederick.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“With what we have, how many mercenaries could we hire?”
“None. Impossible.”
“Why?”
“The lord already petitioned the guild. They refused unless all debts were cleared first.”
Understandable. With the Griffis coffers, no mercenary wanted to risk going unpaid.
“What about allied houses? Someone must be willing.”
“There is the Lancer family—your mother’s kin. But they’re on the other side of the kingdom.”
“And nearby?”
“The Ockham house, perhaps.”
Edward raised a brow. “Our neighbors?”
“Yes. Lady Deborah Ockham is… your betrothed.”
“What?”
Frederick bowed slightly. “Long ago, your father and Baron Bernard Ockham agreed to the match.”
Edward leaned back, incredulous. “When’s the wedding?”
“It’s… uncertain. They hesitate because of your health.”
“Reasonable. Who would marry a man expected to die young?”
“Your father borrowed heavily from them as well,” Frederick admitted.
“And you think they’d still help us?”
“Even a reed is worth clutching when you’re drowning.”
Edward wasn’t so sure. Deborah hadn’t so much as sent a word while he lay on his supposed deathbed.
Still.
“Send a letter. And starting tomorrow, I’ll drill the villagers.”
“A sound idea… but there’s a problem.”
“What problem?”
“They have no weapons.”
Edward froze. “…You sold them too?”
Frederick grimaced. “Yes.”
“If we buy more with what little coin we have?”
“We might arm one or two. Not dozens. And the interest payments—”
“I see.”
Edward’s eyes narrowed. Then I’ll find another way.
***
The next morning, Edward rose early and set out for the Demon King’s fortress.
He had delayed until now, wary of what dangers still lurked inside. But things were different.
He had forged a circle. Gained the Eye of God. Rediscovered his fighting edge—strong enough to toy with a four-star aura user and cut down bandits five to one.
Whatever lay within, he was ready.
So it hasn’t changed…
As he approached, memories surged.
The Mountain of Ruin—that was its name now.
At its summit loomed the fortress, grander than any castle in the realm. At its heart, a tower that pierced the sky. Layer upon layer of walls circled the mountain, an entire city built into stone.
Its sheer majesty crushed the spirit.
All for nothing, in the end.
The Demon King’s legions vanished, leaving only ruins. The heroes’ glory was forgotten, twisted into legend. The years had stripped it bare, until the war itself felt like a dream.
Not the time for sentiment.
Shaking off the memories, Edward began the climb.
He passed the lower slopes, and soon a cavern yawned wide—tall enough for giants. Lighting a torch, he stepped inside. He could have used a spell, but conserving mana was wiser.
The path feels familiar…
The deeper he went, the more memories stirred.
A vast hall opened before him, large enough to parade a thousand soldiers.
Picked clean?
Dust lay thick, cobwebs veiled the corners, but nothing of value remained.
I’ll need to press further.
At one wall, he searched. By the fortress’s layout, this was the outer ward. The inner keep could only be reached by a stair hidden here.
“…What?”
Where the stair should have been, there was only blank stone. Dust and webs made it look like it had always been there.
No, this is the place.
Edward pressed his hand to the wall.
Mana…
The stone resonated, answering the mana in his body.
Clunk.
Mechanisms groaned behind the wall.
Boom.
The wall split apart, sliding open to reveal the stair beyond.
Cliche Novel 