Chapter 35

Chapter 35: Chapter 35

No one knew his past. Nor did he seem to live with tomorrow in mind.

A man without a past or a future.

That was why he had no name.

People called him the Nameless Man, and because he wrote nothing but an X when signing contracts, he was simply known as X.

Now he roamed the snowy plains like a solitary tiger. Where was he going, pushing through the violent blizzard into the lightless darkness beyond?

Yet two boys followed the Nameless Man, like a pair of little birds fearlessly fluttering around a tiger.

The wind-driven snow lashed their faces. They had to keep one hand on their hoods to prevent them from being blown off. The tips of their noses quickly went numb.

Boribori walked ahead of Rickart, carrying a lantern that creaked incessantly as it swung in the wind.

Rickart did not take his eyes off the Nameless Man, whose figure was so faint in the darkness and blizzard that it seemed ready to vanish at any moment. The man must have known they were following him, yet he never once looked back.

One hour passed, then two, as they continued walking through the midnight blizzard.

It was almost unbearably grueling.

Rickart was having a harder time than Boribori, who had become fairly adept at using Mana Drive.

They had already walked for more than two hours, making it difficult to return to the tavern. Nor could they be certain that there was somewhere to shelter ahead.

Even if there was, how much farther would they have to walk?

Should they continue forward or turn back now?

They could genuinely become stranded here, unable to go in either direction, and freeze to death.

Then the Nameless Man, walking ahead of them, suddenly collapsed into the snow.

Rickart and Boribori hurried over. In the brief time it took them to reach him, a thin layer of snow had already settled across his back. If they left him there, he would be buried and dead in no time.

Rickart seized the man by the shoulder and tried to lift him, but his enormous build and heavy armor made him far too heavy.

"I’ll carry him."

Boribori handed Rickart the lantern.

Once Rickart took it, Boribori squeezed his eyes shut and strained to lift the Nameless Man. With a groan and Rickart’s help, he finally managed to hoist the man onto his back.

The tremendous weight pressed down on Boribori’s body. He began operating Mana Drive in earnest, forcing himself to forget the strain and concentrating as hard as he could.

"Where do we go now?"

Who knew?

Rickart raised the lantern and looked around. Darkness and driving snow filled his vision, making it impossible to see more than a few meters ahead.

Whoooooosh...!

Even Rickart, with all his powers of deduction, could do nothing but entrust himself to chance.

Or pray to the gods.

Had it been a mistake to follow the man without any clear reason?

No. If they had not followed him, he would have died.

Whether this was fate playing a cruel trick or guiding them forward, they now had no choice but to continue.

Holding the lantern aloft, Rickart pushed through the snow.

He did not know where he was walking or what he was heading toward.

The only light he could follow was his own will.

They were so exhausted that every minute felt like ten years, yet they walked for another full hour.

At first, the misery filled Rickart’s mind with countless stray thoughts. Eventually, he became incapable of thinking at all and simply kept moving his legs.

Then he suddenly noticed that the blizzard had weakened.

More precisely, they had entered a forest, and the trees were shielding them from the wind and snow.

Rickart breathed a sigh of relief and swept the lantern from side to side. Surrendering himself to some instinctive sense, he searched for somewhere they could shelter.

Then, almost miraculously, they reached a place where the ground rose around them as though forming an enclosure.

"Let’s put him down for now."

Boribori had silently followed all this time without uttering a single complaint, carrying a heavily armored adult man on his back. At last, he lowered the Nameless Man to the ground.

Rickart struggled to hold the man upright, preventing him from falling face-first as he propped him against the earthen wall.

The moment Boribori put him down, he collapsed flat on his back. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gasped rapidly for breath.

Rickart hung the lantern from what appeared to be a tree root or branch jutting through the ceiling. The wind howling outside sounded like a wailing beast.

"You did well."

"Yeah...."

"Stay down. I’ll make a fire."

Rickart searched through his bag and took out the dry tinder and flint he had prepared in advance.

He gathered whatever stones he could find nearby and built a makeshift hearth. Then he collected relatively dry branches and used them to feed the fire.

The frail flame fluttered constantly as though it might go out at any moment. But Rickart cupped his hands around it protectively and blew upon it with care, giving it strength.

Once it grew large enough, it began burning on its own like an adult who had finally learned to stand independently.

The fire blazed.

By then, Boribori had also sat up and moved closer to the warmth. He removed his boots and gloves to dry the sweat, then began taking food from his bag.

Once they had settled in, Rickart turned toward the Nameless Man.

His helmet, armor, and every piece of equipment he carried seemed engraved with all the hardships he had endured.

"What should we do?" Boribori asked.

When sheltering during winter, it was best to remove and dry things like gloves and boots. Moisture accumulated inside them because of the temperature difference, and if they were left on, the hands and feet would swell and develop frostbite.

"Let’s remove his equipment first and cover him with a cloak."

"Okay."

Like small birds clinging to a great beast and picking parasites from its hide, the two boys crowded around the Nameless Man and began removing his equipment.

They took off his gloves and boots first.

Then they removed his helmet.

Boribori recoiled in horror.

"Eek!"

The man’s face was covered in terrible burn scars. His flesh had melted and warped. That was probably why he struggled to breathe.

So that was the source of the constant rasping.

It was difficult to believe that someone in such a condition could fight so savagely, much less overwhelm so many opponents.

When they carefully removed his armor, they discovered that his entire body was covered in scars—burns, scratches, punctures, and cuts.

They also found writing tattooed across his skin like filthy, haphazard scribbles.

Strangely, every sentence had been tattooed backward.

After thinking about it, Rickart realized why. The tattoos had not been made for other people to read.

They had been written that way so the man himself could read them.

The largest inscription stretched across his chest. Since it was written backward, Rickart slowly deciphered it.

Your wife was raped and murdered. Your young son was torn limb from limb. Find your enemies and kill every last one of them. You are alive for that purpose alone. Do not forget it for even a single moment.

Rickart and Boribori were so overwhelmed that they momentarily lost the ability to speak.

Looking again, the crooked letters seemed to burn like flames.

Once they recovered, they examined the other inscriptions. They were all names or clues—descriptions, areas of operation, and similar information.

Many of the names had been crossed out with an X carved into the skin by a blade.

Presumably, those were the people against whom he had already taken revenge.

The man’s body was a death list steeped in an unbearable grudge.

One of the more recent wounds bore the words:

Lily—Traitor.

Was that the woman they had found inside the carriage?

Several names remained uncrossed. One of them caught Rickart’s eye.

Steiner the Mad Dog.

Rickart instinctively knew that this was the same Steiner who led the Ernberg Five and was counted among the Nine Swords of the Empire.

Meanwhile, Boribori’s mouth had formed a small circle, and his wide eyes blinked rapidly.

He had never seen a body so gruesome, so wretched, and yet so pitiful.

The more revenge the man exacted, the more scars he accumulated. It seemed that every fulfilled vengeance only consumed the remainder of his life more quickly.

His body displayed the evidence without concealing anything.

Without consciously deciding to, Boribori took a towel from his bag and moistened it with the snow piled around the shelter. He warmed it beside the campfire, then used it to clean the Nameless Man’s body.

Each name knotted with resentment.

Each sentence seething with vengeance....

Meanwhile, Rickart roasted potatoes and sweet potatoes in the fire. He also took out some dried meat and prepared a simple meal.

Once Boribori finished cleaning the man, he took out some herbs he had brought, chewed them thoroughly, and smeared the paste over the wounds on the man’s forearms.

Then Boribori suddenly raised his head.

The Nameless Man had opened his eyes and was silently looking down at him.

His eyes were a pale blue, like the sky.

"Eek!"

Startled, Boribori flung away the towel and fell backward onto his rear.

Rickart had been poking a potato with a skewer to check whether it was cooked. Boribori’s reaction made him flinch as well.

He turned to see what had happened and discovered that the Nameless Man was awake.

"Uh... Hello. We found you collapsed on the road, so...."

Rickart attempted to greet him politely, but the situation was undeniably awkward.

With his back resting against the earthen wall, the Nameless Man moved only his eyes as he regarded the two boys.

The awkward silence continued until Rickart spoke calmly.

"You see, we’re planning to kill two members of the Ernberg Five—a man named Reto and a woman named Erze. If you intend to face Steiner, how about joining forces with us for a while?"

Rickart indicated the tattoo with his gaze. Since their objectives overlapped, he was proposing that they help one another.

The Nameless Man merely turned his head away and closed his eyes.

Apparently, he intended to sleep.

The entire situation felt strange—extremely strange.

Rickart could not tell whether the man was willing to sleep so defenselessly because he underestimated them or because he trusted them. They might have looked young, but both boys were armed.

"M-Maybe he can’t speak," Boribori said.

That was possible. His vocal cords might have been damaged when he suffered those burns.

"He looks a little frightening and grotesque, but I don’t think he’s a bad man."

"Bori, he might be unable to speak, but he can probably still hear you."

"Huh? O-Oh. Do you think so?"

Realizing his mistake, Boribori glanced at the Nameless Man. The man merely remained still with his head turned away.

"What should I do? Sh-Should I apologize?"

"It’s fine. Just cover him with your cloak. You can share mine."

"O-Okay."

Boribori removed his cloak, cautiously approached the Nameless Man, and draped it over him. He even carefully arranged it around the man’s body.

The Nameless Man remained motionless.

Boribori returned to Rickart’s side and sat beneath his cloak with him. The boys looked after one another as they ate.

"He must be hungry...."

Boribori needlessly glanced toward the Nameless Man as he spoke.

The man still gave no response.

After finishing their meal, Rickart and Boribori agreed to alternate keeping watch throughout the night. They were not guarding against an attack or wild animals. Keeping the fire alive was far more important at the moment.

Thus, the somewhat frightening, awkward, and peculiar night deepened.

The blizzard raged without pause.

Whoooooosh...!

At dawn the following day, the two boys were sleeping pressed close together beneath their shared cloak.

Whether the Nameless Man had truly slept was unclear.

He quietly rose and put on his equipment.

After leaving the borrowed cloak behind, he was about to depart when Rickart—whom he had apparently believed to be sleeping—spoke.

"What happens if you die before completing your revenge?"

The Nameless Man stopped.

"Take a good look at yourself. Are you truly doing this for revenge, or are you merely punishing yourself? You look so precarious that you could collapse again at any moment."

Wearing the distinctive helmet that concealed his entire face, the Nameless Man glanced back at Rickart.

Then he left without a word.

"Bori. Bori, wake up."

"Huh? Uh...?"

"He left. Let’s follow him."

"Huh? Oh, right. What? He really did leave. Let’s go, let’s go."

Rickart and Boribori hurriedly gathered their belongings. They stamped out the cold remains of the fire and set out.

The blizzard that had howled throughout the night like a mournful beast had finally stopped. But dawn had barely begun, and the world remained shrouded in darkness.

Rickart and Boribori left the forest and followed the hazy black silhouette walking ahead of them.

As time passed, the sky gradually brightened. On the distant horizon, the day’s sun began to rise.

When the majestic sunlight spread across the snowy plains, its brilliance was dazzling.

The two boys followed the path the Nameless Man had cleared through the snow, occasionally playing with each other as they walked.

They looked like two carefree tiger cubs following in the footsteps of their father.

The sun continued to rise.