Chapter 29: I Vow (3)

A cool yet sorrowful breeze drifted gently.

Nike walked along the path that stretched across the hill, facing the wind. It was the road Morgana had told him to take.

As he slowly followed the path, Nike admired the scenery around him.

The endless grasslands.

The white flowers swaying with the wind.

And among them, countless crosses that stood as gravestones.

This was the resting place of hunters, where the noble spirits who had fallen in battles against witches over centuries were buried.

Withered sunflowers lay on the gravestones, so old no one could tell how long they had been there.

Rosaries, black cloaks, hats, masks, and weapons were placed beside the crosses.

They must have been belongings that their owners cherished while alive.

Walking through the place, Nike felt his heart grow solemn.

It was his first time seeing people honor the end of a life in such a way, remembering and mourning it.

The feeling was unfamiliar, and strange.

When he reached the top of the hill, the wind blew against him, as if in greeting. Fields of white flowers rippled all the way to the horizon.

The landscape did not change. The gravestones still stood in rows. The number of hunters buried here was beyond comprehension.

In that desolate place of the dead, Nike’s eyes lingered on a group of black-clad mourners gathered together.

Three days earlier, more warriors had been buried here.

They were names Nike knew.

Ginter.

And Carlton.

One had been his fellow trainee, like an older brother. The other had been the chief instructor who had looked after him and become like a father.

“…”

Those who had been close to him were suddenly gone.

Nike was forced to part with people who had become his friends, who had embraced him.

It was something he had never experienced before.

He stood silently on the hill, staring for a long time as two coffins were lowered into the ground.

The short funeral ended, and the hunters returned to their daily lives.

Today, once again, they vowed revenge, grinding their teeth as they carved their comrades’ deaths into their bones.

The ritual was familiar, their emotions dulled, yet every visit planted the tumor of vengeance deeper in their hearts. It grew larger and larger, consuming their lives.

But that tumor was also what kept hunters moving, alive.

The longer time went on, the more it ate away at their bodies. Yet without that feeling, many would have already killed themselves or wasted away.

In that uneasy coexistence, hunters endured their trials once more today.

* * *

After everyone had left, two people remained keeping watch before the fresh graves.

Lou Gehrig still lay prostrate before his brother’s tomb, pouring out endless tears. His fellow trainee, Hestia, sat a little distance away, hugging her knees as she waited.

Only the fledglings, still unaccustomed to comrades’ deaths, couldn't bring themselves to leave.

“…Nike.”

Hestia, who had been staring at Lou Gehrig with dim eyes, brightened when she noticed Nike silently approaching.

“…”

Without a word, she made space for him at her side.

Since the incident, Hestia too had changed. The shock had silenced her, and she spoke even less than before.

They did not need words. Each understood the other’s circumstances and emotions well enough. So they both stayed quiet.

Nike cast his dry gaze at Ginter and Carlton’s gravestones.

“Ugh, sob…hhk… Brother, broooother…”

Beneath the stone, Lou Gehrig wept like a broken man, unaware of Nike’s presence.

“Please come back… please…”

He had lost both his brother and his mentor in a single moment. No one could dare to understand the depth of that loss.

Hestia had been listening to his wailing for hours.

The air was heavy with grief.

Unable to bear it any longer, Hestia hugged her knees tighter and spoke softly.

“…Are you alright? Your body.”

Nike only gave a small nod. His eyes never left the gravestone. It was Ginter’s stone. His fellow trainee’s grave.

The last memory of Ginter, telling him to be strong and promising to eat something delicious after the exam, still rang vividly in his ears.

But now, he would never hear that voice again.

“…Nike.”

Still watching Lou Gehrig’s back, Hestia spoke again.

Her face was darker than usual. Where once her emotions had been merely muted, now it looked as though they had been erased entirely.

No…

Her face was blank, but it carried a shadow close to rage.

“…Nike, are you a witch?”

Nike turned. Hestia remembered his strange battle.

Those red eyes had been unmistakably a witch’s eyes.

And no human could tear apart a witch’s distortion field with bare hands.

The more she thought, the more the conclusion was clear. Only witches bore such traits.

“…I am human.”

Hestia closed her mouth again.

The silence stretched.

Then, with resolute eyes, she spoke as though she had made up her mind.

“…Nike. It will be a very hard fight.”

“I know.”

Hestia shook her head.

“…No. That is not what I mean.”

Her eyes stared into the air, into some distant future, as if she knew what was to come.

“…The witches are more dangerous than we think. They are cruel, cunning, and their malice has no end.”

She spoke calmly, as if she knew them well.

“…Now that your identity has been revealed, ‘that moment’ will come someday.”

“…?”

Her words confused Nike, who turned toward her. She clutched her head, her face twisted in pain.

“…When that moment comes… I-I… What should I do…? Nike?”

“Tia. Are you sleepy?”

Her pale blue eyes which matched her platinum hair, turned slowly toward him. They were filled with fear and unease.

“…?”

Nike did not understand, and right as he was about to ask,

“Nike? When did you get here?”

Lou Gehrig had noticed him at last and approached, his tears finally stopped.

“Uh, ah. I don’t know.”

“Ah…”

Exhausted from crying, Lou Gehrig dropped beside Nike.

“…Sorry. I didn’t notice.”

Like a man who had lost everything, Lou Gehrig stared blankly at the field of white flowers swaying in the wind.

His heart ached.

Yet he felt a little lighter. There was one more person to share his grief with. Especially since Nike had been like a brother, that gave him comfort.

“I couldn't protect my brother. And the instructor was dragged into this mess because of me and… died.”

Lou Gehrig broke the silence, blaming himself.

“It would have been better if I had died.”

“…No.”

Hestia frowned.

It was not something Ginter would have wanted to hear. If he had been alive, he would have slapped Lou Gehrig for it.

“But it is true.”

Lou Gehrig couldn't help it. He was timid, pessimistic.

He had lost his parents and become a hunter, and now the last of his family and his benefactor were gone. No matter how hard he tried, nothing changed. The world only became more hellish.

It was natural that he struggled to stay sane.

Hope was nowhere to be found.

When Lou Gehrig fell silent again, Hestia too said nothing. With Ginter gone, the one who had always spoken the most, conversations faltered. The mood sank deeper into gloom.

They felt the absence of the one they had lost.

— Nike! From today on, I will acknowledge you as my little brother!

— What was that? Were you pretending to be a fool to trick me? H-How do you handle a sword so well?

— Hahaha! Nike, what is that face! You are ridiculous!

— What, you can’t even read this? Even I can—what? Nike got it right? Lies! Hestia, stop joking!

Nike, just like them, stayed quiet.

He simply sat still, remembering his times with Ginter. Even in sorrow, some memories made the corners of his lips lift.

Nike had followed Ginter like a true older brother. If he had had a sibling, it would have felt like this. Ginter had taught him something precious.

That was why.

What Nike felt now was grief.

For the first time in his life, he experienced the pain of losing something dear.

His chest felt hollow, and a dull ache spread within him.

He had lived every day by taking lives of wild animals, devouring flesh and blood. He had watched the elders of Sinain Village die one by one.

Everything living dies.

And when it does, it returns to the earth, feeding new life. Death was a familiar concept to Nike, like the smell of rotting grass.

It was all the same. Death, farewell, the cycle of life. But then why did this feel so different, so unbearable?

He couldn't yet grasp the difference between parting with an ordinary being and parting with someone precious. It was his first time.

Understanding death, accepting farewells, becoming used to loss were not easy.

They took time, thought, and philosophy. Nike had none of these.

And his way of thinking was not like others. That only made his confusion deeper.

The three of them were each learning in their own way what it meant to face death.

‘…We need to break this mood.’

Time passed again. The sun was setting, painting the graves in red. The scene was strangely beautiful.

Amid the wind that carried the scent of flowers, Hestia stood.

“…Let’s go eat.”

“Food.”

Having gone hungry for days, Nike rose instantly at the mention of food.

Nike and Hestia extended their hands to Lou Gehrig, who kept his head down. They wanted to pull him up, to help him live another day.

That was what it meant to be witch hunters.

They could waver, but they must not break.

Nike and Hestia were enduring.

However,

“I want to stop…”

Lou Gehrig couldn't rise.

Not everyone was a superhuman.

Not everyone could keep their spirit unbroken.

That strength belonged only to a few.

If humanity had always stood up again, witches and monsters would not be swarming the world as they did now.

With his face buried against his knees, he muttered. That this was as far as he could go.

“I… I think I’m going to quit. This never suited me to begin with. A coward like me, a witch hunter? It is ridiculous.”

“Hah?”

A lonely farewell.

Nike’s first farewells always came without warning.

“No!”

But Nike did not want to let go of what he could hold.

“Revenge! Lou Gehrig! Revenge!”

“…”

“The witches. Kill them. Kill them with me!”

“…”

Lou Gehrig closed his eyes and turned away with a pained face.

“…I cannot. I am not strong like you, and I’m a coward. What could I possibly do? Witches… we can’t beat them. We’ll die the moment we face them.”

Nike shoved him in the chest, angry.

“Lou Gehrig is a coward!”

“Damn it! Yes, I am a fucking coward. So what?! Everyone is! How can anyone look at a witch and not be afraid? Huh?! You are the strange one!”

“Lou Gehrig is a coward! Coward!”

“You fucking…”

Lou Gehrig shouted in anger, but couldn't hold back his tears.

“I… I want to. I do… damn it.”

He clenched his fists, trembling, as his pathetic tears fell to the ground.

Never had his own weakness stung so badly.

Nike grabbed his collar.

“Revenge. We must kill. The witches.”

“…”

“Do it with me. Lou Gehrig. For Ginter’s revenge.”

Nike’s face was blank.

He was not consumed by rage like Lou Gehrig.

He was not dulled by shock like Hestia.

He was the same as always.

But something was different.

A clearer goal had taken root.

It was not anger.

It was not personal vengeance.

Simply, he felt unpleasant.

All those complicated emotions had been reduced to one simple thing. It simply made him feel bad. But there was no need to dwell on it.

“…Will you do it? Revenge… for my brother.”

When Nike released his grip, Lou Gehrig’s shoulders slumped.

“I will.”

His vacant eyes regained their focus.

“And you will too, Lou Gehrig.”

“…!”

And the fire lit within him again.

* * *

The next day, the postponed graduation ceremony was held.

Hans, who had lost an arm, inherited Carlton’s position according to his wishes.

“Since I am already half crippled, hunting is hard anyway. Guess I will spend my last years chilling here. Damn~ it.”

Hans vented his bitterness with coarse words as he stood on the platform before the new hunters.

These were the precious people Carlton had given his life to protect.

‘Now rest easy, sir. I will clean up after you.’

Hans wiped his reddening eyes in secret, then began the congratulatory speech.

“…Congratulations on completing your training. Brats. You endured the super long speech well.”

His joke eased the heavy atmosphere. His words comforted the grieving new hunters.

“Alright, now the last thing for real this time.”

“So boring!”

“You brat, always dozing off and now talking to your senior like that? Huh?”

Hans pointed at Nike, who had protested.

‘That kid really killed a witch by himself…’

Nike’s feat had been kept strictly secret under Morgana’s orders. But those who had survived the Dark Forest after fighting a witch couldn't help but wonder about him.

‘Vigo is the one who brought him in.’

Hans pulled out an old book from his chest. It was a hunter’s journal.

“Take yours out. This is the final step to becoming an official witch hunter.”

Grumbling, Nike searched for his journal, only to realize he had thrown it somewhere. Rowen sighed and lent him her own.

Gloomy Lou Gehrig clutched his book with a sniff, as if making a decision.

Hestia quietly opened hers, her expression complicated.

“Turn to the first page. Repeat my words and actions.”

The instructors and seniors all fell silent. The joking mood vanished, replaced by solemnity.

Hunters looked at their journals as if they were holy scripture.

For they were, in truth, priests and ascetics, carrying out the will of God.

The three novices opened their books to the first page. Following the others, they placed a fist over their hearts.

Hans made the sign of the cross and spoke with gravity.

“When the long night descends, my vengeance begins.”

“…When the long night descends, my vengeance begins.”

“When… when the long night descends, my vengeance begins.”

“Night. Descend. Vengeance. Begin.”

Their timing and tone were all different, but their resolve was the same.

Hans chuckled faintly, recalling how clumsy he had once been in the past just like them, then slowly continued the hunters’ oath.

Solemnly, reverently.

Everyone gathered there joined their voices together.

『O lamb of the Lord of Light, raise your sword.』

『We shall not sleep, nor rest, nor take comfort until the witches are slain.』

『We shall remain loyal to the Order until the day we hunt every evil.』

『I am the Lord’s hound, the watchman in black.』

『I am the arrow that pierces the dark, the spear that strikes the heart of demons.』

『Until the long night ends and the light once more shines on this land.』

『In the great names of every hunter who has fallen, you and I shall fight—』

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.