Nidhogg nudged the severed head away from his feet, then methodically collected his crossbow bolts, returning them to the pack on Torrent's back along with the crossbow itself.
「Quest」 Eliminate the Balzac Mercenary Company (Completed)
「Reward」 Level Up: LV 45 → LV 46. Acquired Weapon: "Greatsword" (Skill: Stamp (Upward Cut))
In Souls games, there was an unspoken rule: the simpler the weapon's name, the more useful it might be.
Unfortunately, the blood-stained sword he'd taken from Balzac didn't inherit that tradition. Its skill was unremarkable. Nidhogg stored it away calmly. It would likely just be ash for something else.
"Thank you." A young woman approached barefoot, wrapped in a piece of grey cloth. Her voice was hoarse with exhaustion.
Behind her, the surviving townspeople huddled together. Mostly women, with only two young boys among them.
This woman, having found a sliver of hope after hours of horror, was stronger than the rest. She had mustered the courage to thank Nidhogg on behalf of them all.
"If it weren't for you, we don't know what..."
But she couldn't finish. The memories overwhelmed her. She collapsed to her knees and retched.
The other survivors covered their faces and wept.
They were still terrified. They couldn't look at the mercenaries Nidhogg had killed, or at the bodies of their own family and friends. So many of them were praying this was just a nightmare.
Nidhogg didn't go to help the kneeling woman. He didn't offer comfort to the frightened survivors.
Slaughtering this mercenary band was his choice as a human being. The quest was secondary. But it ended there.
He didn't know what fate awaited these people. They had a chance to survive now, and that was enough. He wasn't going to go beyond his means.
Clop clop clop...
The sound of hoofbeats echoed from a distance.
Every survivor flinched, looking up in fear. Terrified that another band of monsters was coming.
Nidhogg had stayed this long, but he didn't intend to see this through to the end. He looked up at a banner emerging through the smoke and knew his part was done.
The banner bore a central castle, with the sun, moon, lightning, and stars embroidered at each corner.
It was the flag of the Kingdom of Midland. The knights had finally arrived.
The column of black smoke was visible for miles. They couldn't have missed it.
Nidhogg didn't delay any longer. He stepped into the stirrups and swung onto Torrent's back.
Torrent stamped his hooves, a soft, restless tattoo.
The survivors heard the sound and turned. They saw Nidhogg mounted, reins in hand, ready to leave. Panic flickered in their eyes.
To the man who had saved them from despair, they felt not just gratitude, but desperate dependence.
"You... you're leaving?" The woman who had been sick finally composed herself, her voice pleading. "Can't you stay? We... we don't know what to do now..."
"The knights of Midland are here. They'll protect you. They'll see to your needs." Nidhogg gestured towards the approaching dust cloud.
"But..."
Nidhogg ignored her and the others who began to beg him to stay. He squeezed his legs against Torrent's flanks, and the spirit steed surged forward.
No one could stop them. They could only watch as he vanished into the twilight.
Soon, the knightly order of Midland entered the village. The cavalrymen, clad in gleaming armor, frowned at the scene of utter devastation before them.
If they hadn't all been veterans who had seen their share of horrors, their reactions would have been far less composed.
But what surprised them even more was the number of survivors.
In the past, villages raided by Balzac's company were left with almost no one alive.
Hadn't Balzac's company been the one to attack here?
The leader of this order was a young nobleman with bangs.
He looked at the dazed and bewildered civilians before him, then his gaze shifted to the direction where Nidhogg and Torrent had disappeared.
From that distance, Nidhogg could see them, and they could see him. The knight-commander had clearly noticed the departing rider.
"Lord Irvine!" A knight returned after a quick investigation and questioning. He reported, "It was indeed Balzac's mercenary company. They were responsible for this atrocity. The body of their leader is over there, but..."
"But what?" Irvine asked.
The knight's expression was strange. "The civilians claim that this mercenary band was killed by a single man. A man who gave no name. They say he had black hair, wore armor, and rode an incredibly fast horse."
"Alone?" Irvine was stunned. He remembered the departing figure and frowned. "I thought some knights had gotten here ahead of us, wiped out the bandits, and left one man to hand them over to us... I never imagined..."
"Lord Irvine." The knight's tone was suspicious. "One man killing Balzac's entire company? That's impossible. Something's not right. Should we send someone after him?"
The young nobleman considered this, then waved his hand. "No need. Our priority now is getting these civilians to safety in the castle. Hurry, search the area for any other survivors..."
"Yes, Lord Irvine!" The knight accepted the order.
Irvine remained mounted, looking at the ruins of the shattered walls and the twisted, charred corpses.
The tragedy weighed on his chest. Etiquette be damned, he wanted to curse.
But what made it harder was the bitter truth: this kind of tactic—sending mercenaries to scourge enemy border villages—was common. It was a strategy that bred deep hatred.
And it wasn't just the Tudor Empire that did it. The Kingdom of Midland was just as guilty.
Irvine traveled frequently between the royal capital of Windham and the border. He knew that the King had sent a knightly order of convicted criminals across the border to harass the enemy.
The atrocities committed by that group were arguably worse than Balzac's company. Just hearing the rumors was sickening.
They were known as the "Black Dog Knights."
Irvine thought of those Black Dog Knights, of their terrifying commander, Wyald. It disgusted him that such a creature could be called a knight.
But his status made it impossible to defy the King's order and move against the Black Dog Knights. Even if he'd wanted to send troops to destroy Balzac's company, he'd been prevented.
And now... someone had destroyed Balzac's company. A single person, according to the witnesses.
Was it the delusion of ignorant civilians, or an incredible, unbelievable truth?
Irvine looked up again, staring into the distance, now swallowed by the darkness of night. He thought he could see a faint, fleeting shadow.