Return of The Martial King

An hour later, Repenhardt stood atop a hill, sweat-free, gazing down at a small mountain village. It had taken him 30 minutes to cross the vast distance to the Hattan Mountains, far off the main road, and another 30 minutes to navigate through the rugged terrain to reach Cattle Village. Even on horseback, one couldn’t cover the distance this quickly. The speed he now possessed was something he couldn’t have even imagined during his days as a magician.

With a slight, very slight sense of gratitude towards Gerard, Repenhardt surveyed the village.

“It’s exactly as I remember.”

Cattle Village was the same as ever, both in the past and now. Still shabby, still a humble little mountain hamlet. It should have been 20 years before he would come to this place again, yet the scene before him had hardly changed, truly a backwater village through and through.

The flimsy fence surrounding the village to fend off wild beasts, about twenty log houses within, and a large hall at the center. Focusing his gaze on that hall, he concentrated for a moment.

“Ral Tara Sakita, the eyes of the hawk soar through the sky. Double Watcher.”

Casting the 1st Circle Vision Spell, Double Watcher, his view extended, bringing the interior of the hall into closer perspective. Had he used a higher circle spell, he might have been able to see inside the hall, but he hadn’t yet reached that level. Instead, Repenhardt used this state to sense presences.

‘Two human men with the aura of warriors, and two ordinary men, one of which is a boy. And three orcs. Slaves, perhaps? And one female presence. The distinctive lightness of her steps suggests she’s an elf woman. He’s keeping a Slayer with him?’

The concept of a beautiful female warrior who is also formidable in battle is a fantasy cherished by many men. However, with human women, once they reach a certain level of warrior status, it often becomes difficult to distinguish their gender due to their muscle.

Elves are different. Whether male or female, they maintain a slender and attractive appearance by human standards, even as competent warriors.

Where there’s demand, supply follows. Slave traders began to select elves with potential, specially training them in combat to sell.

That was the origin of ‘Slayers’.

A beautiful elven swordswoman, useful as a bodyguard by day and serving at one’s bedside at night, not only had practical value but also fulfilled the fantasies of many men! Consequently, it became fashionable for nobles of considerable rank to keep at least one Slayer.

‘Well, being of a count’s family, it’s expected for him to have his own personal Slayer.’

He continued to scout the village. The distance between him and Cattle Village was almost 300~400 meters; at this range, no matter how sensitive his senses were, he couldn’t feel any presence. Moreover, his current level of magic was only at a basic level, not reaching that far. However, when the unique senses of a warrior combined with magic, the effect was comparable to an intermediate-level long-range spell.

“There are five more guys in each house with the aura of a warrior. Just as I heard.”

As expected, the Marquis of Altion was staying in Cattle Village. Repenhardt stroked his chin. If it was just about gathering money, he could either hurry to the ruins before them or wait for them to leave and go later. However, he currently needed information from Todd. But approaching strangers out of the blue and asking, ‘Can I join your group?’ would only get him treated as a madman. He needed an excuse.

And he had already thought of that excuse.

“Let’s see…”

Repenhardt turned his gaze. A reasonably large log house on the outskirts of the village, where a good number of villagers were gathered, came into view. He could feel the strong emotions of panic and anger. A smile appeared on his lips.

In Cattle Village, about a dozen villagers were raising their voices in Ted’s cabin, the village’s leading hunter.

“What should we do now?”

Everyone’s faces were filled with worry. The Marquis of Altion or something that had occupied the village had taken away their food and supplies, beaten the village chief, and then made excessive demands.

“The Valley of Death is a place we should never get close to…”

Half a day’s journey from Cattle Village, there was a forbidden valley called ‘The Valley of Death.’ While the name might seem cliché, the villagers didn’t expect much from a name they had given themselves. Anyway, since people who approached it tended to die, a strict unwritten rule had been firmly established in Cattle Village for generations to stay away from it.

But those knights had requested—or rather, demanded—that someone guide them there. Of course, the villagers had shown their unhappiness, but…

“Didn’t those people demand a guide? Who knows what they’ll do if we refuse?”

One middle-aged man, half of his face bruised purple, rubbed his eyes as he yelled. He was the representative of the village who had gone to plead with them and ended up getting hit.

“Even the village chief has become like this…”

“Ah, those dirty nobles.”

“Watch your words! Who knows what will happen if they hear you!”

“Kugh!”

The villagers looked at each other and sighed deeply. It was a sorrowful sight. Being powerless, they had been chased to this point, and even here, without power, they ended up in such a state.

A gloomy atmosphere filled the hut. After a while, a relatively robust middle-aged man spoke up with determination.

“I’ll go.”

“Ted! You’re going?”

“Well, I am the best at climbing mountains in our village, aren’t I? And I know well that there’s no one else to go.”

‘So, that’s why they are holding this kind of meeting at our house.’

Ted looked at the villagers with resentful eyes. It was clear from the start that they were implying, ‘You should go, right?’ What kind of meeting is this?

Ted abruptly stood up and picked up the bow that was hanging on the wall. The commanding figure startled the woman and the little girl standing by.

“Honey!”

“Daddy!”

Hearing the worried voices of his family made his body stiffen again. Ted gritted his teeth.

“Kugh…….”

He stood up like a man, driven by the atmosphere, but his feet wouldn’t move.

He didn’t want to go. He really didn’t want to go. Leaving his wife and child to go to that dangerous place was absolutely dreadful. He was a hunter, and therefore, he was well aware of the dangers of the Valley of Death.

As Ted hesitated to pick up the bow, the villagers’ eyes sparkled even more. Grab the bow! Ted! Aren’t you a man! A man should not say one thing and do another!

The hut’s atmosphere was slowly turning into coercion, and as Ted was stuck in indecision, suddenly a strange voice came from the window.

“Shall I go then?”

“Who, who are you?”

Everyone turned in surprise. Was it one of the knights who had heard their conversation? Their faces turned pale. They had been cursing the dirty nobles, after all. Considering the knights’ personalities, the chance of them just laughing it off was virtually zero.

However, the owner of the voice was not a knight. It was a young man they had never seen before, wearing a thick coat and having a rather sharp impression.

The young man continued speaking calmly through the window.

“Just a traveler passing by. I happened to overhear your conversation.”

Coincidence? Which traveler happens to accidentally peek under someone else’s eaves? Everyone in the village and the traveler himself knew it was nonsense, but they all ignored it.

What the traveler had said was of greater importance. Ted asked with a trembling voice.

“Do you happen to know the geography around here?”

“Quite well, actually.”

Because he had been here before. And he had cleanly revived those memories with an artificial magic lantern.

“So, you really intend to go to the Valley of Death?”

“I’ve been there once before.”

Specifically, he would end up going there 20 years into the future.

A look of unhideable emotion flashed across Ted’s face.

“Oh. God! Thank you!”

“You’ll be blessed, young man.”

All the villagers expressed their gratitude to Repenhardt with happy faces. A little thought would have made them immediately realize how suspicious the situation was, but instead of being wary, they readily believed it. It seemed they were people who had lived naively in the mountains, not thinking that far.

Yet, in their naivety, they were concerned for Repenhardt.

“But no one who has entered the Valley of Death has come back alive. Are you sure it’ll be alright…”

“I’ve been there once, haven’t I?”

Repenhardt’s nonchalant attitude reassured everyone. Ted’s face brightened, and he hurried to the door.

“Then, I’ll inform them immediately!”

It seemed he was intent on quickly informing the knights before this divinely sent savior could change his mind, making it a fait accompli. Despite their simplicity, there was a not-so-subtle slyness to them.

Repenhardt watched the middle-aged hunter running off with a wry smile.

According to what Todd had told him, this hunter would go near the ruins, eventually be attacked by a monster, and not return alive. Those knights did not care about the well-being of such ignorant villagers.

‘Think yourself lucky. I’m saving a life here.’

Around the year 930 by the continental calendar, about 50 years ago from now, in the marquis family of Altion in the Vasily Kingdom, there was an outstanding knight named ‘Claude’.

He was a particularly strong knight, even in the renowned chivalrous household of the Altion marquisate. Astonishingly, he awakened his aura at the young (?) age of forty-five, possessing incredible strength and remarkable swordsmanship.

Even now, within the Vasily Kingdom, there are only three people, including Sir Talion, the captain of the knights, who have awakened their aura, which gives some indication of how formidable Claude’s strength was.

Commensurate with his extraordinary abilities, he embarked on various adventures, and his heroic deeds echoed throughout the Vasily Kingdom. It is said that when people are overly praised, they lose grasp of reality. Claude, once celebrated as a hero, grew increasingly arrogant and ultimately made a choice that should never have been made.

Passing near the Hattan Mountains, he stumbled upon the Valley of Death, which he was certain was an ancient ruin. Thinking it a noble, knightly judgment to offer the ruin’s treasures to his lord, the King of the Vasily Kingdom, he decided to venture into the ruin. This might have seemed a commendable decision at first, but what followed was problematic. Believing he was as capable as others said, he ventured into the ruin with only one follower.

This ancient ruin, commonly called a dungeon, is a remnant of the forgotten, distant past, known as the ‘Silver Age’, a time when a highly advanced magical civilization allowed humanity to attain god-like powers. Various theories exist on how this great civilization came to disappear, but the truth remains unknown. Explorers of these ruins can only acquire relics from that era and praise the great civilization.

Exploring these dungeons was never an easy task. The astonishing power of the Silver Age’s magical civilization was such that most of the remaining ruins were severely distorted by spatial warps, stretching across dimensions. The exposed magical energy could transform ordinary beasts into terrifying monsters, and the auras from other dimensions seeping through the dimensional rifts led to various magical creatures and spirits, making it impossible for even the strongest warrior to ensure their survival alone in such expeditions.

Claude, in his arrogance, entered such a place with only one follower, and the outcome was predictably disastrous. Claude fought desperately and ultimately died. The real issue, however, was not just his death, but that he had taken with him the powerful magic sword ‘Altion’, a family heirloom of the Altion Marquisate, and lost it.

The magic sword Altion was valuable not only for the magic it contained but also as a symbol of the Altion Marquis Family. Losing it caused great turmoil within the family. However, no one knew exactly where Claude had died. The only clue was the incoherent babbling of his severely traumatized and mad surviving follower.

Relying on these few incoherent words, the Altion Marquis’s family spent 50 years searching for Claude’s resting place. Finally, in the year 984 of the continental calendar, they discovered the ruin in the Hattan Mountains and sent troops to retrieve the family’s precious sword.