Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 15

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 15
The Winter Sword (15)

The mercenaries of Golden Spearpoint scattered in an instant, encircling the two of them. The sound of weapons being drawn echoed from all directions. Romaback approached Yanika and whispered desperately.
“Please! Do you really want to die in a place like this?”
Yanika raised her eyebrows and spoke with cutting precision.
“So you’d rather be dragged away like a slave instead?”
“That’s not what I mean… Look, we don’t have to follow them all the way through, do we?”
Yanika immediately grasped what Romaback was implying—pretend to go along, then seize an opportunity to escape. With their combined skill, slipping past a few sentries would be child’s play. Her pride might sting a little, but that was nothing compared to dying like a dog in this place.
“Wait, Captain Deraki! I have one question—surely you’re not saying we have to follow you until we die?”
When Yanika suddenly shifted her tone and asked, Captain Deraki replied in that same menacing voice.
“Prove yourselves in the first mission, and I’ll release you.”
The truth was this: Captain Deraki, who commanded over a hundred mercenaries, had a contractual reason for insisting on taking these two along.
A certain representative from the Trabaches Republic had hired fifty of his men. On the way to their destination with the agreed-upon numbers, two had been lost in an accident. Since calling back subordinates from other assignments would throw off the timeline, the captain had decided to purchase replacements locally to meet the quota.
That was why Yefnen and Boris had been bought. Boris was merely a child and useless, but maintaining the contracted numbers required no particular effort.
They were armed mercenaries from Recordable, a place renowned for its arrogance and ferocity. No one wished to anger them over trivial matters.
“Fine! I don’t know what the job is, but we’ll go and do what needs doing. There’s nothing we can’t handle. Don’t say anything different later.”
The tension was about to dissolve when Yefnen’s gaze caught on something protruding from behind Yanika’s back—a long, cylindrical object. It had been hidden inside her outer garment until now, which was why he hadn’t noticed it properly before.
Heat surged through his chest. Without time to think further, Yefnen sprang to his feet and leaped from the roof.
“Stop!”
Everyone heard that voice. Yanika was the first to cry out.
“What? So you weren’t running away after all?”
Boris impulsively followed his brother down, emerging into the open. Yefnen, wielding the sword he’d taken from Joachim, pointed it at Yanika and shouted.
“You fraud! Give me my sword back right now!”
Yet Yanika seemed almost pleased that they had appeared. She looked toward Captain Deraki.
“Look, the people you were searching for just showed up. So we can leave now, right? Oh, and give back the money you just returned.”
Yefnen, still pointing his blade, cried out in fury.
“This is absurd! On what grounds are you buying and selling us? Have you forgotten this is a country without slavery?”
Romaback chimed in from the side with a sneer.
“Stop spouting nonsense. If a weakling gets caught and sold, he should obey quietly. Who do you think you are, trying to lecture us? Save your childish tantrums for your mother at home.”
Boris was a child who barely remembered his mother’s face. But he understood well how his brother felt about her. Though Boris was usually docile, he possessed stubbornness equal to his brother’s. He flared up and shouted.
“You acted cowardly while we were sleeping! Is that strength? Is that something to be proud of?”
Romaback snorted derisively.
“Proud? What of it? Even if brats like you had charged at us head-on, do you honestly think you’d have landed a single blow? You strut around with swords just because you’ve swung a stick a few times at home.”
Yanika laughed brightly from beside them.
“So we’ll take good care of it for you, hmm? It’s far too dangerous for you. Hehehehe…”
“You’re the ones being more cowardly…”
The sound of his brother’s laughter echoed back from when they were trapped in the warehouse. Boris understood that Yefnen was squeezing out every ounce of strength to protect his younger brother. He couldn’t bear to hear anyone belittle such a brother. Even if Yefnen truly was nothing but a child, unable to match these people, he was certainly doing his utmost to act without shame before his brother.
Boris wanted to say that was enough. Suspecting others beforehand out of fear of being deceived by cowards—whether that was clever or not—it didn’t suit his brother.
That wasn’t the kind of person he was.
“You exploited our trust in you! You approached us with that intention from the start, didn’t you? Defeating those who attacked us was all a trick? You probably didn’t even kill them for real! You know nothing of honor! You’re not warriors—you’re con artists!”
The words tumbled out as they came to me. In truth, the latter part was something I had never consciously considered until now. But if Romaback possessed the skill to kill twenty enemies in the blink of an eye with his crossbow, why couldn’t he demonstrate that ability here? It had been instantaneous back then.
“You little milk-reeking brat….”
Romaback’s face showed unmistakable alarm. When Yanika struck his arm once from beside him, he retreated and glared.
At that moment, Boris felt someone’s gaze fixed intently upon him. When he turned his head, the stare vanished swiftly among the mercenaries. Instead, Boris realized that Captain Deraki was also watching him.
It was entirely different from viewing him from a distance. The mercenaries standing densely like trees were terrifying enough, but Captain Deraki’s face was ghastly. Following the deep scar that ran from the corner of his left eye to his temple, the ear that should have occupied that space was simply gone. His bulging eyes, set in a wide-open gaze, seemed capable of rotating to the back of his head with the slightest movement.
Captain Deraki regarded Boris with those eyes, then cast a brief glance at Yefnen standing beside him. I couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking—not until he spoke something unexpected.
“It seems you have differing opinions.”
Yanika, sensing something ominous, shouted at Captain Deraki.
“What are you saying? Hurry up and finish this! We have places to be, don’t we? Hand over the money already!”
Captain Deraki slowly crossed his arms.
“Fight each other once more and capture one side. I’ll give the money to the winner and take the loser with me.”
“What?”
While Yanika stood indignant and bewildered, Yefnen quickly grasped the situation. I couldn’t fathom his true intentions, but this rough mercenary captain was taking their side. There was no guarantee his goodwill would last, so accepting immediately was the best course.
Yefnen immediately stepped back and assumed a dueling stance. No matter how much he despised her, he was not one to attack an unprepared opponent first. But could he defeat Yanika?
“Damn it, don’t blame me if I hand you over as a corpse!”
Yanika cried out fiercely and reached for the Winterer at her back, then changed her mind and drew the sword at her waist instead. She was no fool—she understood that displaying a fine blade here would only result in it falling directly into Captain Deraki’s hands.
Without a word to begin, they clashed.
“….”
Boris watched Yanika’s blade move at a speed his eyes could barely follow. He saw Yefnen strain to block the first strike.
But not the second. Yanika’s sword pierced Yefnen’s right shoulder in an instant, traced a wound across his neck and jaw, and struck true against his right wrist. Yanika withdrew skillfully for a moment, her eyes flashing, then charged forward again with the force of a tempest.
Considerable blood flowed, but the wounds were not fatal. Yet they were enough to break his spirit. Yefnen found himself focusing on defense rather than offense without realizing it. Yanika’s lips curved into a light smile, confident she could toy with him as she pleased.
Boris clenched his fists, his face turning pale as he fidgeted anxiously. That he could sense an unfamiliar gaze even in such a state was an almost unbelievable sensation. Boris himself did not yet realize this was his own talent.
The moment he unconsciously turned to seek out that stare, his brother faced crisis. A cry escaped him unbidden.
“Ah!”
When Yanika’s blade came for Yefnen’s throat, he realized he had already allowed his defense to be breached. At this distance, a sword was useless. Even his arms were too slow. Was it over?
For some reason, Yefnen arched his body and leaped upward. It was not an attack that could be evaded. Yanika’s blade pierced his chest instead of his throat.
“Ah!”
Yanika startled and froze in place. In that moment, Yefnen slipped away from the blade that appeared to have struck his chest and pulled Yanika into an embrace. Boris, and the mercenaries too, were shocked.
“Hah!”
Yanika could not break free immediately. In the hand of Yefnen, who had moved behind her back, was the sword he had taken from Joachim. But he released it and grasped the hilt of the Winterer lodged in Yanika’s back instead.
Since he was presenting his back to the mercenaries, all they saw was a single blade fall to the ground. It appeared at first glance that Yefnen had dropped his weapon, unable to bear his wounds.
But Yanika knew the truth.
“Ugh….”
The Winterer, still sheathed, suddenly unleashed a powerful chill that rendered Yanika immobile. Yanika’s mistake was undoubtedly singular: she had not known of the Snowguard that Yefnen still wore beneath his clothes.
The Winterbottom Kit, separated only briefly, now exerted unbelievable power the moment it returned to one person’s hands. As Yefnen drew the Winterer from its sheath and pushed Yanika away, she collapsed as though transformed to stone.
Yefnen’s breathing was ragged. Boris kept his eyes fixed on his brother until he released Yanika, then immediately rushed to him. That was when it happened.
“Hmm.”
With a light sound from Captain Deraki’s throat, something like an arrow with white feathers flashed before the brothers’ eyes. Before the afterimage of its glimmer had even faded, a scream rang out.
“Ugh, ahhh!”
It was Romaback’s voice. Only then did the brother turn back and realize that he had already prepared his crossbow and was about to fire. Yet his arm trembled as though paralyzed. It took a moment in the darkness to make out the three small daggers embedded in his arm.
Turning back again, a new figure stood beside Captain Deraki—someone who had not been there moments before. Captain Deraki called out to this person.
“Naya.”
The one addressed did not answer, lowering her gaze before fixing it sharply on Boris. By some inexplicable instinct, Boris realized that the owner of the eyes that had been watching him until now stood before him. Between her fingers were three more daggers, identical to those embedded in Romaback’s arm.
Yefnen doubted his own eyes. Such precision—and yet the wielder appeared to be nothing more than a girl of perhaps ten years old?
Her long braided silver hair caught the eye even in the darkness. Upon her head she wore what was called a “turban”—a head covering made by wrapping long cloth around itself, something in Recordable that only those of particular faiths wore. The faded purple turban harmonized strangely with the girl’s vivid violet eyes.
“Seize those two.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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