A snowstorm raged at midday. Slowly, a group of Watch members made their way toward the outpost.

It was because they had been dispatched to investigate the recent Barbarian attack.

Among them, a member whose face was covered in scars spoke up.

"A Barbarian crossing the Great Wall? Now, that's something you don't see every day."

"What surprises me more is something else. Barbarians attacked, and yet this shabby little outpost wasn't wiped out completely."

"That's exactly why the commander is coming here in person. But really, how many Barbarians could there have been? At most, one or two probably crossed over."

The members curled their lips at those words. It was only natural. As was commonly known in the Watch, it took at least five Watchmen to fight a seasoned Barbarian warrior.

But considering the manpower stationed at such an outpost, the number could not have exceeded fifty.

If those stationed here managed to repel a Barbarian attack, it was obvious what caliber of Barbarians they must have faced.

"Well, at most, it was probably just some reckless Barbarians crossing over for their coming-of-age ceremony."

Soon, as they approached the outpost, they made eye contact with a sentry standing guard there.

"From the Black Citadel, huh. Looking at you, you don't look very well."

"... Please, come in."

The member opening the gate was wrapped in what looked like ragged bandages from head to toe. At a glance, his condition looked far from good.

"tsk. The corpses must be piled up in there."

Clicking their tongues, the members headed inside. If the sentry looked that bad, there was no doubt the inside would be littered with the corpses of Watch members. Such an ominous thought crept into their minds.

However, as they passed through the main gate and entered the inner part of the palisade, the member at the front suddenly stopped.

"... What, what the?"

"What is it?"

The scarred member pushed forward, and his eyes also widened at the sight before him.

Laid out neatly there were the corpses of Barbarians. But that was not the reason for their shock. The dead Barbarians sprawled there were not young or inexperienced.

Each was a full-grown Barbarian warrior. And then, they noticed something even more shocking.

"Mi—My god. An Elder?!"

"Wh-What?! There's an Elder?!"

A head of completely white hair. Anyone would recognize it as the corpse of a Barbarian Elder.

Those among them who had heard of or seen an Elder's might at the frontlines gaped in terror.

A Barbarian Elder.

Those monsters could wipe out an entire platoon single-handedly without even a scratch.

"Who on earth...?!"

Who, and how, could possibly have brought down such a monstrous Elder, especially at such a small outpost?

Their gaze then landed on a man resting beside the Barbarians' corpses.

"Frederick. Looks like we've got visitors."

"Tsk. They came quick, those bastards."

"Stop grumbling, Frederick."

Frederick, spitting curses right in front of the Black Citadel members. But the Watch members already knew Frederick by reputation, and whispered among themselves.

"He—He's here?"

"... Let's not even make eye contact."

He was known as 'Frederick the Mutineer'.

There were few in the Watch who did not know that name. Among the lower ranks, his name was legendary, but among higher ranks, he was notorious. It was only natural.

Still, they felt a vague sense of unease. Hadn't someone just now...warned Frederick?

Their gaze turned to another man.

Still youthful in appearance, with black hair falling to his neck, he wasn't even wearing the black cloak symbolic of the Watch, yet was resting his chin on a long sword. Finally, the man spoke.

"I am Erich, the outpost captain of the Black Serpent Outpost."

"I—I'm Peter, a staff officer from the Black Citadel."

"I thought the commander himself would be arriving, but it seems he's too busy."

"Not quite. Someone else will come. Our advance party arrived early to help clean up around the outpost, but..."

Peter looked around with sharp, narrow eyes. He had expected the place to be littered with dead Watch members as well as Barbarians, but instead, everyone seemed only wounded—there were no casualties at all.

"We appreciate the help, but we don't need it. As you can see, the cleanup is more or less done."

"So you didn't call the Black Citadel for help? Then why...?"

"To pursue a fugitive."

"A surviving Barbarian? But if they crossed past the Great Wall..."

"They didn't cross the Great Wall, and he's not a Barbarian. The fugitive is a member of the Watch, and he fled inward, not outward past the Great Wall."

"...."

Peter slowly exchanged glances with the others. Erich's words meant that a Watch member had been conspiring with the Barbarians.

And not only with ordinary Barbarian warriors, but with an Elder as well.

"I don't think I'm authorized to handle this. The acting commander will be here soon, so discuss it with him."

"Fucking useless bastards."

At Frederick's harsh outburst, the members, including Peter, shrank back. Naturally, it was due to Frederick's infamous tendency to go mad at the mere sight of a superior officer.

And, here, every staff member present outranked Frederick.

Yet Erich gave them a gentle smile and spoke.

"Then, since there's nothing to do until he arrives, please rest at your leisure."

"Y-Yes, we will."

Peter swallowed. For some reason, even though they were told to rest, it seemed impossible.

*

As night began to fall, Frederick spotted a member of the Black Citadel loitering among the Barbarian corpses and grumbled.

"Tsk. Must be one of those Black Citadel bastards. Told them to just take a break, but they never listen."

Frederick wore the look of someone irritated beyond measure. Poking around in corpses he'd just finished cleaning up—who did they think would put things back afterwards? But just then, Erich emerged from the quarters and spoke to Frederick.

"Frederick. Use your words. Words."

"What, do I look like some Barbarian to you? I'll say it nicely."

But Erich let out a low sigh. If he said anything more now, a beaten-up Frederick would inevitably vent his anger on the others.

'Well, it can't be helped. That guy has his reasons, too.'

In fact, Frederick's response wasn't entirely wrong. There could be those trying to destroy evidence, and fiddling with corpses at a time like this was enough to arouse suspicion.

Just as he tried to rationalize the situation—

"Hm?"

Erich narrowed his eyes and focused on the silhouette inspecting the corpses. There was an odd sense of having seen this person somewhere before.

Frederick strode up to the figure. The Watch member had the hood of his robe pulled deep over his black cloak, hiding his face.

But at that moment, Erich glimpsed the man's chin through the gap in the robe.

'That's...?'

Beneath the robe—well-groomed white beard. Erich's eyes widened in shock.

"Fr—Frederick! Wait!"

"Hey, I told you to just stay put, you—"

― KWADANGTANG!

But before Frederick could finish speaking, the robed man seized Frederick as he reached for his shoulder, and hurled him aside. Frederick let out a pained groan at the impact.

"Guh!"

"Kkulkul, I'd heard the rumors, but you really are a cheeky bastard."

Beneath the robe, the man wore a faint smile. He was an enigmatic figure who had effortlessly subdued Frederick, a veteran capable of taking down several Barbarians himself.

Recognizing the man's prowess, Erich, with certainty in his eyes, quickly approached.

"You son of a— You're dead now—!"

"Stay still! Frederick!"

― Tsk.

Yet, in the next moment, Frederick, as Erich said, had no choice but to freeze.

Not that it was his decision—somehow, the mysterious man had drawn his sword and pressed it to Frederick's neck, in a blur no one could follow.

Erich, swiftly arriving, bowed his head respectfully.

"You must be the one sent as acting commander."

"You're pretty quick on the uptake. I like that."

The swordsman drew back his robe with one hand. Frederick's face went pale as soon as he recognized him.

"Mi—Mikhail!?"

― Kkuuuk.

His hair was half white, with a touch of ash-gray. Middle-aged, with deepening wrinkles, Mikhail pressed Frederick to his knees with the very tip of his blade.

"Huh!"

"Mind your tone. Do you want to try mutiny with me as well?"

"N-No, sir Mikhail!"

Frederick looked truly frightened for the first time. Erich, far from surprised at this change, thought it only natural.

Because the man before Frederick was Mikhail—one of the five senior-most Watch members, a swordmaster, and the greatest swordsman in the Watch.

Yet that was not the only reason Erich bowed his head to Mikhail.

'... Master. Your cantankerous personality never changed.'

Mikhail, senior Watch Member.

He was the very same person who had made Erich into a swordmaster in Erich's previous life.

With a wrinkled smile, Mikhail sheathed his sword. Even in that simple movement, his skill was evident; as he slid the long sword into its scabbard, there wasn't the slightest wasted motion.

― Tsk.

"I was expecting more from someone called a swordmaster, the winner of the Iceborn tournament. But you're pretty disappointing."

"... Is that so?"

"Got any excuses? For a so-called swordmaster, getting scratched up just from killing a single Elder isn't much."

Erich marveled inwardly. Without anyone having told him, Mikhail had instantly understood the condition of Erich's body, hidden under his clothing.

But Erich smiled and replied.

"Then I'd be grateful if you would teach me."

"You want me to draw my sword here? I doubt you called me all the way out on a busy day just to ask for lessons."

"No, sir. The commander's judgment was needed, originally."

"August isn't so free as to come just to see you."

August. The commander's first name. Mikhail was probably the only one in the Watch who could refer to him so casually.

That was how unique Mikhail's position was as the greatest swordsman of the Watch.

"But this must be addressed. There is a traitor in the Watch, and he—"

"Has colluded with Barbarians and is up to something suspicious? I know."

"How did you know?"

"It's obvious. Someone scrambled away from here as if flying. There were tracks of someone pursuing him, too."

Mikhail curled his lips. Though he'd cut Erich off, he seemed to have grasped the situation instantly.

"As outpost captain, you can't leave your post. So you tried to get permission from Commander August. That's why you called the Black Citadel, isn't it?"

"That's correct."

Mikhail once more glanced around. Then, picking up an empty bottle from the ground, he spoke.

"Looks like it's got something to do with that Orca-roid or whatever."

"Yes. I suspect Training Unit Commander Nicholas is the mastermind behind this."

"Kkulkul, you brat."

The atmosphere instantly turned wintry. Mikhail fixed Erich with a cold gaze, so sharp it felt like a blade.

"What if I sided with Nicholas? Why are you telling me everything so openly?"

Naturally, Erich knew that Mikhail had nothing to do with the likes of Nicholas.

After all, it was his master Mikhail who had strictly forbidden him from getting involved with anything as depraved as the Orca-roid.

But Erich could see Mikhail was waiting for his answer. If he failed to give a proper reason, Mikhail's judgment of him would drop.

'I need to make a good impression.'

Once again becoming Mikhail's disciple was incredibly important to Erich. Although their meeting came much earlier than expected, this was an opportunity.

After all, Mikhail only ever chose those he liked as his disciples.

Erich pretended to think for a moment, bowed his head, and then looked up—ready to give Mikhail the answer he sought.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=I'm guessing Erich still needs to learn a lot of things from Mikhail...Or maybe being Mikhail's disciple will help Erich grow stronger faster...【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】

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