The Warrior’s Ballad

Chapter 21

Translator: Willia 

“First of all, those with low intelligence can’t handle mana.”

The meditation class professor declared this with absolute certainty from his very first words.

His face showed clear irritation. It seemed he couldn’t even understand why he had to teach this class. Maybe that’s why his tone was quite aggressive.

The stepped auditorium was filled with a considerable number of students, including Ricardt, who usually didn’t attend classes much.

The meditation class was held only a few times a year, as the academy had learned from experience that those who could feel mana would naturally sense it quickly, while those who couldn’t, would never manage it no matter what.

“Whether you’re a man or a woman, a noble or a bastard, handsome or ugly, tall or short, those things don’t matter at all when it comes to handling mana. But if you can’t even grasp basic concepts, there’s no hope for you, so you might as well skip my class.”

In an era where the right to education wasn’t properly guaranteed, or rather, where the concept of an educational system didn’t even really exist, many students lacked basic vocabulary skills.

Because of that, the kids were relatively good at physical activities, but most of them couldn’t stand sitting still and listening to a one-sided lecture.

They would rather climb up and down cliff stairs a hundred times a day than endure a one-hour class sitting still.

As expected, the 100 or so students attending the class all had dumbfounded expressions. It was clear to see that they wanted to leave at any moment.

Seeing this, the professor’s already frowning face grew even more scrunched up.

“Those who can do it will get it quickly, and those who can’t will never get it, so there’s no point in dragging this out or holding multiple classes. So, I’ll only say this once today. Do you understand?”

“Yes!”

The students answered energetically, though their expressions were still dull. But really, there wasn’t any proper curriculum, and it was all up to the professor’s whims.

“First, get as comfortable as possible. You can sit or lie down. Spread out widely.”

The students did as they were told, and so did Ricardt and Boribori. Ricardt leaned back and took a half-reclining position against the wall.

“Close your eyes. But don’t fall asleep. Imagine closing off all your senses with your eyes closed. Even the surrounding sounds and smells. Focus only on my voice. We’re starting now. Take a deep breath in and out. Feel the air entering your body. And slowly, even out your breathing. Relax completely.”

As they followed his instructions, the students soon began to feel drowsy. Light streamed in through several small windows that resembled arrow slits, and with the weather now quite warm, it made them naturally feel sleepy.

The professor knew that eight out of ten of these kids would end up falling asleep anyway. So, even though it hurt his pride every time he taught, he reluctantly did it, since it was technically an assignment.

“From now on, don’t think about anything. But you won’t be able to. Thoughts will keep rising up. Let them be. Then, observe where those thoughts begin. Keep observing. But even then, you probably won’t find the starting point. This requires practice. If you keep doing it, you’ll realize that the origin of your thoughts is empty. There’s nothing there. Now, this is important. Imagine filling that empty space with your breath. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale… Most of the breath will come in and out, but think of leaving a little bit behind with each breath. Let that remaining breath move through your veins, stay in your muscles, settle into your bones, and then circulate through your veins again. Repeat this process.”

It was a type of meditation that was simple yet difficult to master. What did it mean to leave something behind? Was it even possible to leave behind breath? It was actually hard to understand.

Even if he didn’t fully grasp it, Ricardt still tried to follow the professor’s instructions.

He tried to observe the origin of his thoughts, or even before that, to feel the inhaling and exhaling of his breath as much as possible, and to imagine that breath moving through his blood vessels.

At some point, the professor’s voice began to fade away, eventually becoming inaudible. Even the sounds of students snoring around him disappeared.

It felt like being submerged underwater. Should he go deeper? How much deeper? Was there an end to this? What if he couldn’t come back?

It was a strange experience of feeling both comfort and fear simultaneously.

He was sinking. Sinking. Or was he slowly falling? Or maybe rising? Where was up, and where was down?

Then suddenly, in the midst of the abyss, stars bloomed in abundance. Ricardt found himself standing in the Heiden Fields.

And a short distance away, he saw Ricky, who was sitting in the field, gazing up at the star-filled night sky, who appeared to be his age now.

Seeing that pitiful back view, an indescribable emotion welled up inside him, and tears began to rise.

That time when he desired nothing in particular, knew nothing of boredom, happiness, or misery.

Yes, there was a time like that for me too. Did I really need parents? Why did I need familial love? Isn’t love just another name for the most cruel curse?

But then why did I have to endure such immense pain, sorrow, and betrayal? What did I do wrong? Who is supposed to save whom? Wasn’t that very Ricky the most pitiful being?

As these thoughts, like the whisperings of a demon, continued, emotions beyond his control began to surge wildly. Injustice, fury, disappointment laced with curses, and despair.

Overwhelmed by a flood of emotions, Ricardt finally let the tears that had been welling up flow down his cheeks.

As he cried, the night sky shifted, and the stars trembled. And at the same time, the most destructive words, a declaration of war against the world, came to mind.

……Now, I don’t care about anything. Let everyone die.

At that moment, Ricky, who had been gazing up at the starry night sky, turned to look at Ricardt. He spoke calmly.

“It’s all in the past, Ricky. It’s not the pain that’s tormenting you; it’s you who’s holding onto the pain.”

Upon hearing those words, the boiling emotions subsided as if by magic, and it felt as though all his strength was draining away. It was closer to emptiness than salvation.

And then, someone pulled Ricardt out of the abyss.

“Ricky. Ricky.”

Ricardt felt his body being shaken and his hearing returning. When he opened his eyes, he saw the pitch-black auditorium. At some point, night had fallen.

It was dark all around, but his eyes had already adjusted, and he could see the surroundings in the moonlight streaming in through the windows.

“Ricky, if you sleep in the cold, your face will get stiff. Let’s go back to the dorm to sleep.”

Boribori said.

“Did I fall asleep?”

It felt like only a brief moment had passed, but in reality, several hours had flown by, leaving Ricardt momentarily confused.

“Yeah. You were sleeping so soundly that I waited until now, but since you wouldn’t wake up, so I had to wake you. You must’ve been really tired?”

“It’s not that…”

Just then, a snoring sound came from behind him. It was Volka, who was sleeping with his arms crossed and leaning back. He hadn’t attended the class today, yet here he was. When did he come?

“Kreueoek! Pyuuuu…… Kreueoek! Pyuuuu……”

“Looks like someone else is the tired one. By the way, what happened with the class?”

“Most of the kids were sleeping. The professor explained a bit about something called Mana Drive, and that was it.”

Ricardt sat there in a daze for a moment. As he regained his sense of reality, a sense of calm returned.

Memories from Stormhertz, the things he experienced while on his journey, and everything he had gone through since coming here flashed through his mind and were absorbed into his identity.

“…So, did you feel anything? This thing called mana.”

“Yeah.”

When Boribori answered so easily, Ricardt’s eyes widened. I don’t feel anything though.

“Really? You’re not lying?”

“Yeah. It’s just about breathing and imagining, right? The professor said I’m the first one to sense it this quickly.”

If the professor acknowledged it, then it must be real. Yet, Ricardt couldn’t feel anything at the moment. Do I just need more time? While he wasn’t particularly obsessed with mana, he did feel a slight tinge of disappointment.

“He said to keep meditating steadily and not neglect training. Feeling mana is just the beginning. Accumulating and utilizing it is what the Mana Drive is about. And don’t get complacent.”

The professor’s way of speaking might have been a bit harsh, but it seemed he was teaching properly.

“Did anyone else besides you feel the mana?”

“The high-ranking kids already knew about it. Other than them, no one. Just me. Did you feel anything, Ricky?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”

Boribori smiled brightly and said,

“It’s okay. There’s no need to rush.”

“Yeah, but…”

Ricardt then shook Volka, who was still snoring.

“Volka, Volka. Wake up.”

“Kreueoek! Huk! Euk! Huh? Uh…… smack smack……”

Volka jolted awake, smacking his lips with his eyes half-open. He must have been in a pretty deep sleep even in that position.

“Volka, you said you had something to tell Ricky,”

Boribori said.

“Uh… oh, right.”

“What do you need to say?”

“Well, Mr. Dunkel said he needs some kids. Capable ones. So I was going to ask you, Ricky.”

“Why does he need them?”

“Apparently, there’s a request that came into the guild, but they’re short on people. You haven’t been at the academy long, but you’re the strongest, right? Plus, you’ve got some money.”

Having money meant he could afford equipment, as the guild didn’t provide gear to adventurers or students. Everyone had to purchase their equipment out of pocket, and even the army worked that way.

That’s how things were in that era. You had to buy your own equipment with your own money to go risk your life fighting. But in return, it also guaranteed a certain social status.

Of course, the guild sometimes lent money to affiliated adventurers, but that wasn’t really a good choice. If you borrowed money carelessly, it could ruin your life. The guild wasn’t a charity.

“What’s the request?”

“Something about deserters, I think. It seems like a mercenary group made the request. I guess it’s not something they can handle on their own.”

Desertion has always been one of the most severely punished crimes in any military, in any culture, throughout history.

Yet, it happened very frequently. The risk to one’s life was one thing, but the battlefield presented many hardships that were almost unbearable for a human to endure.

Especially after a defeat, desertions would occur on a massive scale, often to the point where even emperors or kings couldn’t manage the situation.

Ricardt knew this well from experience.

“Is it dangerous?”

“Is there any request that isn’t?”

Ricardt recalled something Arno had once said—how academy students were being used in guild rivalries and were dying as a result.

“They said the pay is good, and it will count towards your rank after graduation. If you complete the request, you’ll be considered for the intermediate rank, and if you perform exceptionally, they’ll even consider you for the advanced rank.”

“If I survive, that is.”

“Yeah. If you survive. So, are you going to do it?”

Ricardt thought for a moment. Should he do it or not? It didn’t take long for him to decide that he should.

The reason being, no matter how long he waited, the professor for the ancient language class didn’t seem like they were ever going to show up. He had even tried pestering old man Dunkel, but it wasn’t like Dunkel had the authority to appoint a professor.

As far as Ricardt knew, there wasn’t anyone else connected to the ‘real’ headquarters, and as a student, there wasn’t much else he could do.

So, the only option was to become an expert and take the final exam to access the Codex, although he wasn’t overly fixated on it yet, he figured there was no harm in advancing his rank.

“I’ll do it.”

“Can I go too?”

Boribori asked as soon as Ricardt gave his answer.

“No. You stay here.”

Ricardt cut him off sharply. Regardless of mana or anything else, basic skills were essential for making a real impact. Boribori still didn’t have any rank. What would he even do if he came along? Carry luggage?

Even if one had innate talent for sensing mana, what meaning did it have if they couldn’t fight? In the end, both aspects needed to go hand in hand to be useful.

For now, the art of handling mana wasn’t that advanced. They were just starting to take baby steps towards the star called Sword Master.

Volka roughly ruffled Boribori’s head as he sulked and said,

“Hey, why are you sulking again? I still can’t feel mana either. Instead of learning from Ricky, how about you attend the classes? Competing with others at your level will help you improve.”

“Got it.”

“Let’s go. It’s cold. Is it the place that’s cold, or is it the weather still being chilly? Oh, right. The Ice Gang is participating too. Just so you know.”

Volka said as he stood up. Ricardt and Boribori also stood up and left the dim auditorium.

Before exiting the auditorium, Ricardt suddenly looked back. He had a strange feeling that someone might be sitting there. But there was nothing, just the soft moonlight filling the thick darkness, and no one was there.

The next day, Ricardt headed into the city. The sky had been gloomy since morning, and eventually, it started to rain. He pulled up the hood attached to his cloak and walked through the rain, hearing the steady drip-drip of the raindrops.

Fortunately, the road, despite being wet, wasn’t too muddy and remained relatively firm.

The rain wasn’t heavy, but the wind was strong. The hood of his cloak kept getting blown off, so he eventually decided not to wear it.

After walking for about five hours, he reached the guild headquarters and dried his wet hair and body as much as he could by the fireplace.

Then he headed to the blacksmith’s shop. Molty, who was hard at work as usual, recognized Ricardt and approached him.

“What brings you here?”

“I’m here to buy a sword.”

Ricardt opened his coin pouch and showed it. There were one or two gold coins and several silver coins inside. It was what he had left after spending money on living expenses.

“Wait a moment.”

Molty left Ricardt standing there and went to speak with the blacksmith, who was sharpening a sword on a grindstone. Pointing in Ricardt’s direction, it seemed like he was explaining what Ricardt needed.

The blacksmith, with his thick, bushy beard, turned to give Ricardt a long look. When he stood up, he was indeed very tall and broad-shouldered, making him seem like a powerful weapon in his own right.

Without saying a word, he gestured for Ricardt to follow him. Ricardt followed him into a storage building attached to the side of the blacksmith’s shop.

It was a cool place, with several long wooden crates neatly arranged. The sound of raindrops tapping on the roof was pleasant to hear.

The blacksmith opened the lids of the crates one by one, revealing smooth swords of various widths and lengths, all without scabbards.

“Choose what you want.”

Ricardt alternated between looking at the blacksmith and the swords, then began to carefully examine them as instructed. He eventually stopped in front of a longsword that looked a bit long and large for him to handle.

It was forged with the unique technique of the Nords, with a subtle wavy pattern running along the blade. The base of the blade, known as the ricasso, was wrapped in leather, allowing it to be gripped like a short spear if needed.

“This one. May I touch it?”

The blacksmith nodded silently. Ricardt held the sword in his hand, checking the balance, the thickness of the blade, and whether the edge was straight.

It was a masterpiece without a single flaw. However, as expected, it felt a bit heavy.

But since he had used a greatsword in his previous life, this weight actually felt more familiar in his hand.

The blacksmith watched Ricardt as he examined the sword, his expression indifferent. However, strangely enough, the sword seemed to suit Ricardt perfectly. The blacksmith got a feeling similar to when a renowned master handles a sword.

“I’ll take this one. How much is it?”

Ricardt asked, taking out his coin pouch. But in reality, the money he had was far from enough.

A weapon made from high-quality steel by a skilled Nord blacksmith was worth at least five gold coins. If taken to another region, its price would increase several times over.

Especially the sword Ricardt had chosen—it was made from meteoric iron, one of the most expensive metals that humans could handle.

In other words, it wasn’t something that could be bought with just a few gold coins, but rather something that should be won at an auction.

Fortunately, the blacksmith shook his head.

“A hero needs a weapon befitting them. Your glorious achievements in the future will serve as payment instead.”

Ricardt’s eyes widened at the word ‘hero’, wondering what he meant.

“A hero? Me?”

“I heard from Molty. You’re the one who risked your life to duel those punks.”

It seemed the blacksmith was referring to the fight Ricardt had with the higher-ranked students over the extortion money.

Before Ricardt had subdued them, those students had been causing all sorts of trouble, even if they weren’t openly terrorizing others. They would intimidate iron ore suppliers to extort money, cheat brothel owners, or run up tabs at taverns and never pay.

They were causing problems all over, not just bullying other students and taking their money.

But since Ricardt put a stop to them, not only the academy students but also the city’s merchants and craftsmen, in effect, become indebted to Ricardt to some extent.

Isn’t someone who defeats such villains a hero? But Ricardt, the person in question, only felt awkward.

So, with an embarrassed smile, he said,

“They were just small fry, I didn’t really risk my life or anything.”

The blacksmith received the sword back, sheathed it, adjusted the leather strap, and then handed it back to Ricardt.

“Well, whatever. Take it.”

And just like that, Ricardt obtained the sword for free. But considering the blacksmith felt he owed Ricardt a debt, perhaps it wasn’t exactly free.

“Thank you.”

Despite everything, Ricardt didn’t forget to express his gratitude. He also thanked Molty before leaving the blacksmith’s shop. Since the sword was too long and heavy to wear at his waist, he slung it over one shoulder.

But he couldn’t shake off the awkwardness of being called a hero. It was more embarrassing than he had expected.

The people back home said I was gentle and kind, but in truth, I’m not that good of a person.

Ricardt walked through the rain, feeling the droplets falling on him. Yet, despite being rained on, his mood wasn’t all that bad.

*****

TL Note: Hi, everyone! I hope you all are enjoying this novel. I will probably take a break tomorrow due to some work, so there might be no chapters tomorrow. Anyway, enjoy!

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