Chapter 6
The captain, Hugo, had been staring silently at the signal device that had been flashing for some time.
“Is this thing broken?”
It was an expensive mana signal device he had reluctantly commissioned so they could flee if something went wrong at Igorvich Station.
And now it was blinking at regular intervals.
Roughly once every minute.
The emergency signal was supposed to be sent by pressing it three times in succession. That way, accidentally pressing it would not transmit a false warning.
But the signal continued to blink only once each time.
It seemed to be malfunctioning.
“Damn it, this thing cost a fortune!”
“Heh heh, Captain, don’t worry. We’ll recover all that money soon enough, won’t we?”
“What about the men?”
“They’re all in position, and they’ve finished planting the explosives. Once the train arrives, we blow it up, rush in, empty the cargo cars, and get out! Even taking it slow, it’ll all be over in fifteen minutes!”
“Good. Oh, here comes the train. Everyone, get ready!”
“Yes, sir!”
In the distance, a train came racing toward them, spewing steam.
It was thirty minutes from Igorvich Station, or a little over an hour away on foot.
That meant even if the train derailed, they would still have at least two full hours before reinforcements arrived.
“Blow it!”
Hugo turned his head and shouted.
Boom!
The explosives planted along the tracks detonated simultaneously, making the ground tremble.
With a deafening screech, the train slammed on its brakes and slowly began tipping sideways off the tracks.
“Go! Take everything!”
“Waaah! We’re rich!”
They had heard that the train’s cargo cars were packed with gold bars.
Once they melted them down, removed the royal stamps, and distributed them through the black market, how much would it all be worth?
Hugo chuckled as he watched the supposedly broken signal device flash one last time, then shoved it into his pocket.
He was already planning to give the bastard mage who sold it to him a thorough piece of his mind.
KABOOOM!
SCREEEECH—CRUNCH!
The derailed train twisted and crashed onto its side.
Perched atop a tree, Ivan watched from a distance before shifting his gaze.
One man appeared to be the commander.
Another looked like his second-in-command.
And there were about three others nearby.
‘Around ten went toward the train.’
He had been told there were roughly fifteen men in total, so the numbers matched.
Ivan leapt down from the tree and immediately raised his pistol.
Bang!
“?!”
A commotion broke out in the distance as the bandits simultaneously dropped flat or scrambled behind tree trunks.
Including the man whose head had been struck by the first shot, none of the five possessed line-of-fire detection.
Projectile weapons did not work against those who had reached a certain level of strength.
That was why the Hero Party had no “archer.”
The instant a firearm was discharged, a true powerhouse could sense the killing intent attached to the bullet.
Coating a weapon held in one’s hand with mana to erase killing intent was among the most basic techniques.
But once a projectile such as a bullet or arrow left the wielder’s hand, that manipulation was no longer possible.
Therefore, powerful fighters never took cover.
Instead, they hurled themselves toward the source of the gunshot and eliminated the shooter.
Being startled by gunfire was a privilege reserved for the weak.
That was precisely why members of the Extermination Unit carried pistols.
A pistol allowed them to gauge an opponent’s strength, and few weapons were more efficient for disposing of weak enemies in minor skirmishes.
“Who the fuck is out there?!”
The one shouting at the top of his lungs was the commander.
He needed to be kept alive.
He was worth interrogating.
Which meant there was no particular reason to spare the others.
Ivan stepped away from the tree trunk and took a single step toward them.
“Fire! Fire!”
Ratatat!
Lines of fire crisscrossed chaotically.
Ivan strolled between them, calmly loading another round.
Click.
The moment he heard the round lock into the chamber—
Bang!
“Ghhhk?!”
One.
Click.
Another round sprang up from the magazine and locked into place.
Bang!
Another.
Again.
Click. Bang.
Click. Bang!
Every time he fired, one line of fire vanished.
Even trained agents who had not mastered line-of-fire detection would never expose themselves while shooting.
But these men apparently lacked even that level of training.
The instant they realized Ivan was alone, they emerged from cover and began spraying bullets at him.
This was the result.
The difference in training.
The difference in experience.
The difference in talent.
Four corpses with bullets embedded between their eyebrows, and one large man trembling uncontrollably.
“Y-You…!”
The man twisted his face, threw away his gun, and drew a sword.
Not a bad choice.
If his bullets could not hit, the gun was useless.
“Who sent you?! Huh?! Where did a bastard like you come from—?!”
Bang!
Clang!
The moment the man drew his sword, Ivan shot the flat of the blade.
The impact knocked the hilt from his grip, and he stumbled backward while clutching his wrist.
Having understood the overwhelming difference between them, the man’s face turned deathly pale and he began to shake.
“Are you good at remembering faces?”
“Huh…? Y-Yeah! I’ll remember your face! I won’t forget this! Just you wait, I’ll—”
“That’s fortunate.”
Ivan looked at him coldly.
“Because from now on, you’re going to have to remember very carefully.”
Ivan did not expect this man to know who had commissioned the train attack.
An organization capable of orchestrating something like this would never leave such an obvious trail.
Therefore, he would begin with the man’s appearance.
Even the smallest detail could become a clue.
The way he walked. His demeanor. The clothes he had been wearing at the time.
Any conspicuous tattoos or accessories, if there had been any.
Even his manner of speech and accent.
“Answer whenever something comes to mind.”
Ivan drew his axe and spoke in a low voice.
He had no intention of killing the man.
This fellow was probably the tutorial boss, and dealing with him was the protagonist’s role.
Injuring him, however, should not matter.
And Ivan knew countless ways to inflict pain without impairing a person’s bodily functions.
9:35 a.m.
Ten minutes after the train attack began.
Successfully prevented the mastermind behind the train attack from interfering!
“Owwww…!”
Eshidis clutched her forehead and groaned.
She could not gather her senses.
Her father’s retainers had reserved the entire first-class carriage, leaving no one nearby whom she could ask what had happened.
She shook her head vigorously and staggered to her feet.
“Huh?”
She was standing on a window.
The chair she had been sitting and dozing in moments earlier now lay lengthwise beside her.
This was a train.
Train seats were not supposed to lie sideways.
Only then did she barely realize that the train had overturned.
“Ugh, it hurts… Hello? Is anyone there?”
Groaning, she looked around.
She could hear the thunder of running feet and loud shouting, but not the terrified screams one would expect from passengers caught in a train accident.
In that case, this was…
This was—
“Bandits!”
Eshidis gasped and covered her mouth.
She had heard that mounted bandits sometimes raided trains, but it was hardly a common occurrence.
Besides, what could they possibly hope to gain from a train like this…?
“No, wait! I’m here!”
Eshidis flinched and crouched down.
Under most circumstances, that would have been nothing more than shameless self-importance.
Surprisingly, however, she was correct this time.
“What do I do? What do I do…?”
She had shouted that no one was to follow her and that she would genuinely sever ties with anyone who did.
As a result, she had not brought a single attendant.
Feeling her mind go blank, Eshidis hurriedly hugged her instrument case to her chest.
Fortunately, the violin had survived the train overturning without damage.
“Thank goodness! Sob… I was so worried you might have broken…”
She opened the case with gentle hands and carefully stroked the violin.
Then she tightly gripped its neck and held it upside down.
Like a metal pipe.
No—like an axe.
They said that to a musician, an instrument was as precious as life itself.
What this meant was that Eshidis had resolved to fight by swinging her very life as a weapon.
The strongest music student in history, risking her life to resolve the train-terror incident!
***
Before the Kingdom of Droan was unified by Great King Einar—
And before the Demon King’s emergence threatened all humanity—
Droan had endured an age of warring tribes ruled by chieftains known as jarls.
Among these murderous lunatics, who created mountains of corpses and seas of blood with axes, swords, and tongues—used primarily to offer warm and courteous inquiries regarding their opponents’ parents—there existed a peculiar rank.
The jarl’s retainer.
The huscarl.
The huscarl rank was often equated with the “knights” of other nations, but the details differed.
Knights formed reciprocal contractual relationships with their lords.
Huscarls, by contrast, were judged solely by loyalty and ability.
Knights received salaries and land as compensation.
Huscarls received only “loyalty.”
Apart from minor spoils and meal expenses, they neither received nor desired any reward.
Even without blood ties, they were accepted as “brothers,” eating the same food, living in the same house, and sleeping in the same beds.
This did not mean they also shared their nighttime activities.
Great King Einar had many such “younger brothers.”
“Huff… Hah…!”
A middle-aged man stood panting at the edge of the forest.
He stared with his naked eyes at the overturned train in the distance and cried out in horror.
“Which rotten bastards dared touch my nieeeeece?!”
His beloved niece, whom he treasured more than his own eyes, was aboard that train right now!
The man roared ferociously and began running again.
‘If I catch sight of anyone following me, I’ll really disown them!’
When Eshidis said that to Einar, he had arrived at the answer to this riddle with the wisdom befitting a great warrior of Droan.
‘Aha! Then she just mustn’t notice them!’
Every trustworthy man he knew cherished Eshidis as though she were their own niece.
No matter how cleverly they disguised themselves, there was no way they could remain unnoticed aboard the same train.
Sending them on the next train was also unacceptable.
The very thought of her crossing the border alone by train was already worrying enough.
Once again, Great King Einar solved the riddle brilliantly, as expected of Droan’s greatest warrior.
‘Aha! They only need to be able to follow the train!’
Thus, Great King Einar summoned his “younger brothers” and asked solemnly,
“Raise your hand if you want to protect our Esi.”
“Big Brotheeeer! Send me!”
“Raise your hand if you’re a true warrior capable of following a train on foot.”
“I’m right here, Brother!”
Droan’s great huscarls all thrust their hands into the air and let out monstrous cries.
Massive men in their forties, packed with muscle, opened their mouths and clamored like baby birds begging for food.
Great King Einar gazed proudly upon the bizarre sight before asking solemnly,
“Then let’s see the hands of everyone capable of gaining admission to Yansk University.”
“…!!”
The entrance examination for Yansk University was difficult.
They were confident about passing the practical test and interview, but the written examination was impossible.
The huscarls’ hands dropped one after another.
They were not ashamed.
Knowledge was not considered a warrior’s virtue.
One man, however, kept his hand raised.
“From this day forward, you are a first-year physical education student.”
“Yes, Brother! I’ll protect Esi with my life!”
“Good. Go forth, my brother.”
“Yes, Brother!”
That had been two months earlier.
In November, when Yansk University held its entrance examinations, the man secretly infiltrated Krasilov.
Astonishingly, he passed the written examination with dignity and was admitted into the physical education department.
In other words, he barely scraped past the minimum written score and then set a new record during the practical evaluation.
Unfortunately, Saint Yansk University had no age restriction for admissions.
And now, on a day in January, the man who had pursued the train for two full days without resting or sleeping finally stopped, panting heavily.
After spotting the overturned train with his naked eyes from two kilometers away, he charged forward, smashing through every tree standing in his path.
The strongest physical education student in history now enters the scene of the train-terror incident to rescue the strongest music student in history!