Smack!
"Argh!" Caron coughed up blood and collapsed to the floor. Above his head, someone let out a mocking chuckle.
"So this is all the so-called Warrior amounts to now?" Seria asked.
"W–Wait... If you hit an injured spot like that with your hand... Of course I'll cough blood... You're not even human—" Caron began.
"You're not human either; you're just a beast. Honestly. Do you think I'm some kind of walking healing potion? Go drink yourself to death for all I care. Leo, let's leave this idiot hero and go," Seria interrupted.
"Ah... Yeah. Caron, get some rest," Leo said.
The violent Grand Saintess, Seria, smacked Caron on the back once more and left the infirmary. Only four people remained in the room now.
When the saintess was gone, a woman who had been watching the scene with amusement chuckled.
"That's not the Seria I remember. She's become a completely different person," Beatrice remarked.
"Did madness get mixed into her holy power?" Caron murmured.
"That's all your fault," Beatrice said.
"Don't tell me... The dark mana of Slaughter flowing in my body has tainted Seria's mind. No, wait—more likely, it's just because Guillotine is a demonic sword—" Caron began, but was cut off by Guillotine.
"Owner, shut it. My mana couldn't possibly pierce Seria's mental defenses," Guillotine said.
There was no one here on Caron's side. Rubbing the sore spot on his back against the wall, he took a deep breath, then fixed a stern expression toward his old subordinates.
"In the old days, this would've been insubordination, and I would have—" Caron began once again.
"You want another smack?" Beatrice asked.
"Ugo, grab the Commander's arm," Kerra said.
"Understood," Ugo replied.
"It was a joke! A joke!" Caron cried out.
Caron, Kerra, Ugo, and Beatrice, the four survivors from fifty years ago, were gathered in one place.
Today was a historic day. Ever since the Imperial Guards had been disbanded fifty years ago, this was the first time the survivors had all come together. Most people would have expected an emotional reunion, but these lunatics were different.
"If you'd only grown a little slower, I would've half-killed you today," Kerra said.
"Well, at least you still haven't broken through to 9-Star. Kerra, let's beat him up while we can," Beatrice suggested.
"Gladly," Kerra replied.
Once bitter enemies, the two worked together frighteningly well now.
Meanwhile, Ugo came in dragging something massive from outside—four oak barrels as tall as his waist. Judging by the sloshing sound, they were filled with alcohol.
"Thinking about what the Commander did back in the day, this still isn't enough. You'd better spend the rest of your life getting pummeled like this." Beatrice ground her teeth as she spoke.
Caron looked at her with a pale face and said, "No matter how I see it, I'm likely to live longer than you all. Isn't this a bit unfair?"
"When I think about how you left us fifty years ago and went off to die on your own, I still get furious." Beatrice said.
"You didn't act like this when I met you alone," Caron said.
"That was in private. This is an official protest from the former Imperial Guards to their Commander," Beatrice snapped.
"Most protests are made verbally—" Caron began, but couldn't finish his sentence.
"We do it with our fists," Beatrice answered.
The beating was leaving his body sore all over, yet Caron wasn't displeased. In fact, he was happy.
So this day finally came, he thought.
When he first reincarnated, he hadn't even known whether they had lived or died. Now, he was sorry, but grateful they had survived. Though he couldn't fully rejoice until his revenge was complete, reincarnation had at least made this reunion possible.
So Caron took one of the barrels Ugo had brought in and smiled at his old subordinates. He asked, "You're coming to the Demon Realm with me, right?"
Beatrice snorted and answered, "Isn't that obvious? The demon scum aren't just your enemies. They're ours too."
Everyone here had had their lives toyed with by the Malevolent Emperor. Without him, none of them would likely have lived such twisted lives.
People who had lost many precious things had gathered here, but everything was different from fifty years ago. The knights who once had to obey the Malevolent Emperor's every command were now free of his grasp—yet they shared a hatred that had been aging like fine wine for decades.
"Even if we die, we've got to shove a blade down their throats—" Beatrice began.
"Beatrice, how old are you, to be talking like that? 'Shove a blade down their throats[1],' really?" Kerra asked.
"What? Kerra? You want to be first?" Beatrice snapped.
"Commander, please restrain Beatrice. She thinks she's the strongest now and acts like this," Kerra requested.
Here, Caron wasn't Caron—he was Cain again. It felt like going back to the distant past.
Back then, too, his subordinates would chatter endlessly, and he, their Commander, would sip his drink and maintain a dignified air.
"But, Commander," Kerra called.
"What?" Caron asked.
"What's this about 'maintaining dignity'? You were the first to show your true colors once you drank. Go on, do it like the old days," Kerra suggested.
Caron frowned and asked, "When did I ever do that?"
"Often, sir," Kerra answered.
"...Oh. Really?" Caron asked.
"No matter how much nostalgia distorts the past, pretending to be normal is just disgusting," Kerra continued.
He punctured a barrel with his sword and poured the whiskey down his throat. Then he stuck his blade right into the hole and grinned.
Caron shook his head in disbelief and asked, "A knight, and you're using your sword for that?"
Kerra replied shamelessly, "If a sword gets to drink whiskey, that's a luxury. Better than killing people for no reason."
"Owner, he's right. Stick me in that barrel right now. I'll make sure not a drop of whiskey leaks out," Guillotine said.
Even Guillotine had been through a lot lately.
Caron punctured the barrel and drank deep, then stabbed Guillotine into the hole. He said, "Drink up, great demonic sword."
"A fine owner indeed. I'll work hard from now on," Guillotine replied.
Whoosh!
The sword, lodged in the barrel, began to glow a dark blue. Caron's subordinates stared, wide-eyed.
"That crazy sword drinks too?" Ugo asked.
"There's nothing it can't do," Caron replied.
"Like master, like sword," Ugo said.
At Ugo's comment, Caron instantly retorted, "That's our ancestor's sword! Did you just call Rael Leston crazy?"
He'd expected Ugo to be flustered, but instead, Ugo nodded calmly and asked, "Am I not allowed to call Rael Leston crazy?"
"...That's the founder of the Ducal Family of Leston," Caron said.
"And what's that got to do with me, Commander? He's your ancestor, not mine," Ugo pointed out.
The sharp point silenced Caron. He eventually admitted, "Well... You're not wrong."
"Commander, just focus on drinking yourself to death tonight. There are a hundred more barrels outside," Ugo said.
"Even for a knight, finishing all that would be suicide," Caron said.
"That's why I brought it," Ugo replied with a smirk.
It seemed as if tonight would turn into Caron's funeral.
It was a night for unburdening their hearts. Even though his head was already starting to ache from the alcohol, Caron decided to fully savor this happiness.
***
The next morning.
"Uweeeehck..." Caron retched.
"How long exactly did you drink last night?" Leo asked.
"I... couldn't sleep," Caron answered.
"...You mean you drank all night?" Leo asked again.
"Don't even ask. All three of them are terrible drunks... Ah, hey, have you seen Seria? I need a blessing from her..." Caron said, barely managing to speak.
"Why bother the busy saint when you could just cycle your mana and burn off the alcohol?" Leo asked.
"Because doing that to cure a hangover just feels bad. A blessing clears it in a fresh, clean way," Caron answered.
He was sprawled on a bench in the corner of the training yard, looking like a corpse. The drinking bout with his subordinates had dragged on until morning.
When Caron asked about Seria, Leo sighed and shook his head and said, "I knew you'd be like this. She went to volunteer at the healing ward."
"Ah... Really?" Caron asked.
"Shut up and cycle your mana. I'll keep watch," Leo replied.
"That's a waste of good liquor. I'll just tough it out for now," Caron said.
When Caron insisted, Leo sighed again. If there were a world championship for pointless stubbornness, Caron would take gold.
Caron had always been like this, but what Leo never understood was why the other three knights cared for him so much. The former Imperial Guards were practically mortal enemies with the Ducal Family of Leston. Even considering the circumstances, it was undeniable that the Ducal Family of Leston had crushed the Imperial Guards.
They treat him like an old friend, Leo thought.
From Kerra to Ugo to Beatrice—every one of those figures had acted familiar with Caron. Leo suspected there was some hidden story between them, but he couldn't even begin to guess.
"Leo," Caron said, his hungover face peeking over the bench. "Are you jealous right now?"
"...You're insane," Leo said.
"This is because I drank all night without you, isn't it? You should've just said so earlier. I still like you best, Leo. That's what you wanted to hear, right?" Caron asked.
"You should've just drunk yourself to death," Leo answered.
"I already died once. I'm basically undead now. Think of me as a death knight resurrected by the power of the cursed blade Guillotine," Caron said.
Judging by that nonsense, he was still drunk. Caron's wild rambling was nothing new, so Leo let it wash over him.
Caron lay on the bench groaning for a long while. The smell of alcohol alone was enough to make Leo keep a safe distance as he surveyed the yard.
Still, the atmosphere in the training yard had changed. After Caron's outburst yesterday, a strange sense of camaraderie had formed among the expedition members. Normally, they'd be split into factions and bickering.
"Damn bastard."
"Beat us black and blue, then pass out drunk in the morning? Think being a Warrior excuses everything?"
"Looks like the rumors were all lies. There's no way that's a Warrior."
They were all cursing Caron in unison.
If Leo could hear it, Caron certainly could. Leo expected him to lash out, but to his surprise, Caron looked unbothered.
"They're all badmouthing you. Are you fine with that?" Leo asked.
It seemed a waste of the reputation Caron had built. Perhaps the man was a lunatic, but his achievements were real.
Caron, still drunk, dug at his ear and grinned, then said, "If it gets them united, it's a good thing. We're not in a position to pick and choose right now. Doesn't matter how it tastes—as long as it gets them together, it's enough."
His plan had worked perfectly. With Caron as a common enemy, there was no room left for factional squabbling. From now on, they'd unite in criticizing him—and that was good enough. The method didn't matter as long as the outcome was right.
Caron had never cared about reputation anyway. His only goal was to burn the Demon Realm to the ground.
Remarkable, Leo admitted inwardly.
Most people couldn't help being sensitive about their honor, yet Caron seemed to have transcended it entirely. It was the opposite of most knights, who spent their lives striving to raise their names.
But then, Caron cracked one eye open and said, "Leo."
"What?" Leo asked.
"Write down the names of everyone insulting me right now. Every last one. Who do they think they are, talking like that to a commander... Argh. Anyway, write them down so I can teach them a lesson later," Caron instructed.
"...Fine," Leo said.
"Not a single one missing. Got it?" Caron confirmed.
There it is, Leo thought. No one changed overnight. The man could hold a grudge like nobody else.
Still, Leo memorized every face. If he didn't, Caron would make his life miserable later.
While the two of them traded words in the training yard, Zerath, the Commander of the Oceanwolf Knight Order, arrived. He said, "There you are, Caron."
In the sunlight, his knightly armor gleamed, making him look all the more imposing—especially next to the drunk and slouched Caron.
"Oh, Sir Zerath. You came?" Caron asked from the bench.
"The Lord is looking for you," Sir Zerath replied with a sigh.
"To scold me for yesterday's... incident?" Caron asked.
"...Not exactly. A research fleet exploring the North Sea has found something. They believe it could be a serious threat," Sir Zerath explained.
At that, Caron sat up. He exhaled lightly, then...
Whoosh.
The drunken haze evaporated on a wave of mana, and Caron's expression cleared. He remarked, "Well, I was bored anyway."
"The Guardian Dragon is here as well," Sir Zerath added.
"Let's go," Caron said as he strode forward at once.
It seemed the peaceful days were over.
1. The raw is talking about the word "목구녕." It's a dialect word that is also considered slang, so Kerra is telling Beatrice to use a formal word. ☜