Demon Sword

Chapter 2

Jan was on his knees, tied up. His face was so battered and puffy that it was hard to recognize his features.

‘I fucked up.’

Jan muttered to himself as he lowered his head. Jan happened to kill the lord’s son. He tried his best to swing a sword, and it landed squarely on the son of the lord’s throat.

At the head of the table sat the lord and his guests. The lord was a middle-aged man with a plump figure. The guest, on the other hand, was a well-built, middle-aged man with an aura that reeked of a battlefield. With a bit of exaggeration, his face might have had more scars than wrinkles.

“My son is dead.”

The lord spoke up. He was speaking to the guest.

“Didn’t you have another son?”

“That’s not the point! That lowly wretch killed my firstborn son!”

“I believe that son of yours was planning to kill a servant in front of me to show off his skills. If he ever became the lord, he would’ve run your family into the ground. It’s good that he died now.”

“How could you say that!”

The lord was fuming, but his guest chuckled softly.

“Let’s be honest, your second son seems to be a much brighter lad. I think he’d make a good lord.”

As the guest said this, the lord stroked his chin and pondered. Jan, who had been listening, nodded and spoke up.

“The little master is definitely smarter than his brother. Definitely the better fit for a lord.”

“W…hat?”

Hearing Jan’s words, the lord jumped to his feet and rushed over to Jan.

Blam!

The lord kicked Jan in the jaw and began stomping on his head. Numerous curses and words of profanity were shouted down at Jan’s head.

‘Oh, fuck. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.’

Jan surveyed the scene with shaky eyes. He could see the shocked faces. That wasn’t good. He’d often been told he wasn’t good at reading the room.

His body was starting to go numb now, from all the beatings. He only felt dull thuds reverberating through his body. Jan curled up and groaned.

“You fuck, fucking bastard, you bastard, you lowly, ungrateful, wretch!”

The lord was still fuming as he returned to his seat. The guest stood up and squatted down in front of Jan.

“Hey, is he alive?”

“As you can see, he’s still breathing.”

Jan pursed his lips in a gurgle of blood. The guest continued to ask questions.

“What’s your name?”

“……I’m Jan.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“I don’t know you very well, you seem like a great man. You have a charming face, too.”

It was an attempt at flattery to survive. Jan moved his torn lips desperately.

“Ha ha, I’ve never heard that from any woman, much less a man. My name is Vermain.”

“You have a handsome name too.”

Vermain patted Jan’s blood-soaked hair and stood up. He looked at the lord.

“I’ll take him,” he said, “and if I take him, he’s as good as dead anyway; It’s a matter of him dying here or later.”

“But…………….”

“You seem to have forgotten…. I have the authority to conscript criminals into the army.”

The lord bit his lower lip, but soon relaxed his shoulders.

“When you put it that way, I guess it’s alright.”

Jan had been trying to make out the conversation, even with his ringing ears.

‘I’m alive. I’ll live.’

His lips grinned, despite the pain. Jan barely managed to lift himself up and kneeled.

“t-thank you. Handsome sir.”

“Uh-huh, don’t say that. I don’t want to get too attached.”

Vermain laughed and released Jan’s bindings.

“In any case, you’ve saved my life. I’ll follow you wherever you go.”

“That makes things easier. We’re going west.”

“That’s good, I’ve heard the land is fertile there, perfect for farming.”

Jan clenched his fists, imagining his new future.

“No, further west than that.”

“You mean the frontier? You know, my specialty is actually chopping timber.”

“Hmmm, just a little further west than that, do you know what I’m talking about?”

Jan’s laughter stopped. A trickle of what he couldn’t tell was blood or sweat rolled down his chin and onto the floor.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“You just got drafted…. Hmmmm, no, not that, you enlisted voluntarily. Welcome to the Eighth Legion.”

The Eighth Legion is in charge of defending the far west of the Empire. Their main enemy are the demonic beasts.

The Emperor named them the Guardian Legion, but they are more commonly known as the Scapegoat Legion.

Their battle cry is “Breakfast in hell, dinner in heaven.

Jan left the land where he was born. He followed Vermain westward. Jan had no other choice. If he didn’t enlist, he would have died on the spot.

“This is an ointment for your wounds. Apply it daily until the swelling goes down.”

Vermain tossed the ointment contained in a flat iron container.

“T-thank you, sir.”

Jan applied the ointment to the swollen wounds. It was a light blue ointment that soaked into the skin as soon as it was applied. The pain subsided considerably.

“How is it?”

“It’s working wonders, I feel almost healed already.”

As they walked, Vermain asked Jan a series of questions. Jan tried to count his age, folding his fingers.

“I’m probably around sixteen or seventeen this year. I don’t usually count.”

“What about your parents?”

“My father left home when I was a child, and my mother died of a disease. My lord took me in as a poor orphan, which, now that I think about it, means I repaid a favor with a sin.”

Jan scratched his wounded cheek out of habit and winced in pain.

“After working as a servant for so many years, you’ve probably finished repaying the favor.”

“…By the way, you seem to be of nobility, so why aren’t you riding a horse?”

“Why would a grown man borrow the legs of an animal when he has his own trusty legs?”

Jan’s eyes widened. He wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but it touched his heart.

‘That’s so cool…’

Feeling Jan’s gaze on him, Vermain brushed back his hair, which was white at the tips. His exposed jawline was heavy and sharp. It was the face of a mature man soon to step into an old age.

Jan and Vermain turned onto the mountain road. The could almost feel the dampness of the fallen leaves rising from the ground to the tips of their noses.

*Shuffle

Jan stared at the swaying branches and bushes. He sensed the presence of other people.

“S-sir! Bandits!”

Jan shouted. Vermain nodded nonchalantly.

“I see, have never seen a bandit before?”

“What business does a country bumpkin like me have seeing a bandit? Oh dear!”

The bandits appeared. There were four of them. They held crude weapons and stared intimidatingly at Jan and Vermeer.

“Give us everything you have, and we’ll spare your lives!”

Vermain took a step back and pushed Jan’s back.

“I want you to fight them, Jan.”

“What, me?!”

Vermain threw his sword at Jan. Jan caught it by the hilt.

He stood and stared at Vermain in disbelief, ignoring the bandit momentarily.

“I’ve gotten old,” Vermain said, “and the slightest movement makes my joints ache, so I’m counting on you. If you lose, we’re both as good as dead.”

“What?! Shit, shit!”

Jan fumbled with the blade awkwardly, and the bandits snickered.

“Hey, you really want to do this? I told you we’d let you live if you just handed over your stuff. You really want to end your life quickly, don’t you. We’ll give you one last chance, put down your weapon and get down on the ground.”

Jan jerked his head back to look at Vermain. Vermain stood with his arms folded.

“Sir, I think they have a good point, let’s just surrender.”

“Uh-huh, don’t say such weak words. Come on, bandits, we’re ready for a fight to the death!”

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