Ochiden V8 - Chapter 1: The World Outside of the Wall

 Volume 8

Chapter 1: The World Outside of the Wall

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Rain fell outside of the dark prison, loud and harsh.

“…This rain’s not stopping any time soon, is it?” The jailer said as he looked up at the sky from the prison’s doorway.

He worked in a top security prison for first degree criminals. For some reason it had been built on the outskirts of the noble’s district. He’d heard that the reason was because there were nobles who had caused trouble politically in that prison, but he wasn’t sure if that was true or not. At the very least, none of the prisoners he was ever assigned to were nobles.

“…Oh, but I guess Ryner could pass for one,” he said to himself, then stopped for a moment to laugh. “Nah. Nobles aren’t anywhere near as sloppy as he is.”

The rain beating against the pavement was getting louder with every passing moment.

“Is it going to storm tonight?”

He narrowed his eyes, then stepped out into the rain. He’d be soaked by the time he got home. He might make his wife worry.

“I wonder if we’ll be able to make up?” He whispered to himself.

A loud bang rang out from far away.

“Hm? Thunder?”

The sky lit up again and again, each light followed by another bang.

He looked over towards the lights. They were coming from the military headquarters, and now that he was looking, it was clearly unnatural. Man-made. Three balls of lightning magic were high in the red sky.

At first he didn’t realize what it was, but after a moment it clicked. He’d heard of this. Read about it in a book they made him read back when he was training for the military.

It was called large-scale magic. It was used for killing a great many people in any given location.

He didn’t know what this particular spell was called, but it was done by casting a spell far harder than Lightning Flash with many more mages than the average spell required. The mages made a huge magic circle together while saying the incantation simultaneously, and this was the result.

“…But what’s it doing over there?”

He stared dumbly at the sky, stricken by how unreal it felt.

It was so strange to see, after all.

This was the capital city of the Roland Empire. Furthermore, the military headquarters were sandwiched between the noble’s district and the castle. The thought of large-scale magic over there was just too stupid… 

“……”

It exploded with a massive sound, and the sky reddened even more.

It was burning. Fire was leaping into the sky despite the heavy rain.

“Wh-whoa, the hell is going o—”

He was interrupted by something much closer than the explosion. “I wish for thunder - Lightning Flash!”

“Huh?” The jailer said and turned towards the voice he just heard. His eyes widened.

A man was running towards him, a frantic look on his face. His whole body was covered in blood. He had silver hair soaked down with a mix of rain and blood, and strong, willful golden eyes. “You’re in the way! Move!” He yelled and slammed a hand into the jailer’s chest to push him away.

“Whoa!” The jailer yelped as he fell back. Lightning Flash exploded in the space he’d just been standing in. A bit of its electricity continued onto the ground and through the puddles. He felt a faint jolt.

If that silver-haired man hadn’t just pushed him away, he’d be dead now. 

“Wh-wh-what? What’s going on!?” The jailer screamed. But nobody answered.

The silver-haired man turned back. As he did, an assassin in all black threw a knife into his shoulder. It hit and blood spurted up, but the rain soon washed it away. He didn’t falter.

“Shit, grgh!” 

The silver-haired man reached out towards the assassin with his right arm and stuck his thumb into his eyeball.

“Guah!”

Then, while the man in black recoiled, the silver-haired man took the knife out of his own shoulder and slashed through the other man’s neck.

With that, a man died right before the jailer’s eyes. The silver-haired man murdered him.

“…Hah, hah, hah, haah…”

The silver-haired man gripped his shoulder and looked at the jailer. He was unsteady now, shaking on his feet.

“……”

The jailer was frozen in place. He couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. Large-scale magic exploded here in Roland’s capital city, and there were people killing each other in the streets of the noble’s district… 

Sure, murder wasn’t uncommmon in this country. That’s just the kind of place it was. The nobility had both privilege and power, so they could kill commoners on a whim. But this was the jailer’s first time actually seeing someone get murdered.

If people were killing each other here of all places… if people were setting off large-scale magic here of all places. That meant that they were at war again, didn’t it?

He faced the silver-haired man and spoke. “W-war? Don’t tell me Imperial Nelpha invaded…?”

“…Nah… ah, hah, hah…”

The silver-haired man gripped the knife tightly and met the jailer’s eyes, exhausted. But despite how tired he was, he smiled as if he was enjoying something.  His golden eyes narrowed. “Ahh, war. Yeah, let’s go with that.” He smiled knowingly, then ran off again.

Four men in black followed him, screaming. “Kill him! Hurry up and kill him!”

They didn’t even spare a glance for the jailer. They were too focused on their target.

Something was definitely happening. The jailer could tell beyond a shadow of doubt that it would’ve been better if he had stayed home today. He stood, and for a moment considered running back into the prison for shelter. But he stayed still.

He couldn’t help but worry about his wife and daughter. The sky was red with magic and there were people killing in the streets. Of course he’d be worried about how his family was doing.

His wife’s face flashed through his mind, still hurt from the fight they had yesterday.

“…Aww, geez.”

He broke out in a run towards his house.

---

Rain, rain, rain.

It was everywhere, soaking his body and weighing him down.

“…Hah, hah, hah…”

How long had he been running? Sion Astal couldn’t help but wonder in the corner of his mind.

He needed oxygen. He felt like his heart was going to explode. But he kept running, unable to stop. If he did, they’d catch up to him.

He could feel their killing intent radiating from behind.

“Guh…”

He crouched and felt a knife graze him, then grabbed the arm of an assassin to try to snap it. But the assassin broke free instantly. They were far better fighters than Sion was.

The assassin smiled. “It’s over, you lowborn mutt of a prince.” He lowered his knife.

Sion couldn’t dodge it. His body was far too tired. His muscles and heart were oxygen starved, and his mind was beginning to tell him not to bother with fighting back.

Even so— 

“…We’ll see how you like it when mutts bite back!” 

Sion raised his hand and stopped the knife from hitting his vitals by holding his palm up for it to stab instead. Then he used his other hand to hold the knife he stole from the assassin earlier up.

The assassin watched him. Though his eyes were sharp, he wasn’t all too tense - he felt that he had the advantage over Sion, and it showed.

The assassin took a single step back and dodged, then attacked again.

Sion couldn’t prepare for it. He couldn’t react to it. But he had to dodge or he’d die.

“……”

He couldn’t move well.

“Hah, hah, haah…”

He could hear his own heavy breathing. The assassin smiled and looked down at him. “Have you reached your limit?”

“…Hah, hah…”

“You can’t even move, can you? My knives are laced with poison. The rain might’ve weakened them a bit, but they should still work well enough…”    

Sion fell to his knees. He was nauseous, but not deathly so. The assassin was right - the rain probably saved him. But he was still rendered unable to move from it.

“Lucile,” Sion whispered.

But of course Lucile didn’t answer. He didn’t seem to have any intention of saving Sion.

Lucile himself said before that if Sion couldn’t handle situations like this, then he’d never make the miracles necessary to become king happen. And that was true. Sion had to turn this situation on its head through some miracle.

The assassin slowly, leisurely raised his knife.

If he didn’t get a miracle, then this was the end.

“…What are you guys doing over there?” Someone suddenly asked from behind Sion. It was the clear voice of a woman.

Sion smiled and turned around. There stood a world-class beauty. Her long and glossy golden hair was soaked from the rain. She had almond shaped eyes and delicate limbs, but carried a longsword that was disproportionately large for her. She was a member of the Eris family, which had guarded Roland’s king for generations - Ferris Eris.

She was there because Sion had run right into the area that her brother had told her to patrol daily. He hadn’t known for a fact that she’d be here now, but he hadn’t run here by mistake.

Now the only problem was if he had any luck left.

“Looks like there’s still something I can do,” Sion said with a smile.

Ferris stared for a moment, her eyes as cold as always. “Why are you such a mess right now? Sion.”

Sion smiled bitterly. “Well… just playing a game of tag.”

Ferris looked behind herself, where more assassins stood in wait.

“The hell?” One said.

“We’ll kill you too, if you get in our way,” said another.

“Get out of here,” said a third.

Ferris tilted her head. “Hm. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“You.”

“I’ll ask again,” Ferris said. “Who do you think you’re taking that tone with?”

“Like I said, y—”

That was as far as he got. Ferris disappeared. At the very least, she moved too quickly for Sion’s eyes.

“Guwah!”

Then he heard the sound of something hitting the ground. When Sion looked over, there were three assassins lying unconscious on the ground.

She hadn’t even unsheathed her sword. 

“I will ask one more time,” Ferris said to the last remaining assassin. “Who do you think you’re threatening to kill and ordering to get out of here?”

“Huh? Well, er, ah… shit!” The assassin yelled and stupidly threw a knife towards Ferris. She moved many times faster than the knife, dodged it, and slammed her leg into the assassin’s cheek. He went flying.

And that was the end of that.

Ferris turned back to Sion. “I’ll ask again. What about those lousy opponents made you into such a sad sight, Sion?”

Sion smiled dumbly. “Well… they were pretty strong?”

“You’re just way too weak.”

“That might be true, too,” Sion said. He met eyes with this unrealistically strong woman and smiled. Realistically, almost nobody could have gone against those assassins and come out alive. Even Sion who had been the top student at Roland’s Royal Special Military Academy had fumbled.

Though the assassins definitely would have lost against the likes of Ryner who had been hiding his true power, or Claugh, or Miller, or any of the monsters from the dark side of the country but— 

“I did the best a normal guy like me could do,” Sion said with a wry smile as he stood himself up. He could feel the poison in his veins. It wouldn’t kill him, but it’d definitely do its fair share of damage. His legs were still shaking from its effects. But he couldn’t just stop here. He couldn’t afford to rest, either.

This was the beginning of their war, after all.

Sion took a deep breath in, then blew it back out. He forced himself to ignore the poison.

“To be clear, I didn’t save you for free,” Ferris said. “You will pay me with Wynn—”

Sion nodded. “Wynnit Dango’s Recommended Special Set #4, right? If you help me a little longer, I’ll get you two years’ worth.

Ferris’ eyes widened ever so slightly. “T-two years!? Really!?”

“Really! You just need to help me a little m—”

 Another loud explosion cut him off. That was the sound of Lightning Bolt, a type of offensive large-scale magic.

Ferris looked up with a bored expression. “So, Sion…”

“Hm?”

“What’s happening?”

Sion’s eyes narrowed as he looked towards the military headquarters, where Claugh was fighting the private noble armies that supported Marquess Tenglon now. Claugh was fighting against hideous odds. The numbers alone were enough to see that they didn’t have much of a chance. That was why Claugh needed reinforcements to arrive. They had to come before their whole army was decimated. But they didn’t have much time.

“…What should I do?” Sion whispered to himself.

He had lots of nobles who pledged their support to him. Miller did, too. But even when they brought those two groups together, they still weren’t enough to match the strength of Marquess Tenglon’s supporters.

Even if they somehow managed to take care of Tenglon, what about any dukes in the shadows behind him? The country itself?

Well, this was a fight to figure that out, wasn’t it.

They’d puff out their chests and fought each other fair and square, as a real revolutionary force. They didn’t need to hide in the shadows to win.

But they didn’t have the power to fight fair and square right now. And this whole battle had been so sudden. They hadn’t prepared for it.

The nobility found out about their revolutionary plans because Sion killed his older brother, Prince Kestalus. He killed him before the revolution was ready to go, so their opponents realized what they were doing before they were ready to do it.

“…It’s my fault,” Sion mumbled. “It’s all my fault. But the revolution wouldn’t have succeeded had we done things the other way.”

He looked back up at the sky. He moved his feet, and the sound of his footsteps picked up until it matched the rain’s pace. 

“That’s just the kind of place this country is. Unless you stand up straight and honestly say that you’re going to lead a revolution, it will never succeed.”

His father - the king - wasn’t even human. He bled gold instead of red. He’d been completely ruined by the curse. Destroyed by it. Prince Kestalus had been the same.

“…And I am too.”

Every single royal of Roland was the same.

Ferris looked at him, puzzled. “What are you muttering about?”

“Hey, Ferris.”

“What?”

“Think I can become king?”

“Hah? What are you talking about?”

“I’m being tested to see if I can or can’t do it, you know. By your brother.”

Ferris finally took a good look at his blood-stained appearance. “What does he want with a beat-up guy like you?”

Sion didn’t answer. He didn’t have the time to talk anymore.

He had to think. How should he play his cards? Where should he go from here?

Lucile had told him something as he stood by Sion’s father’s side, acting as this country’s guard.

“I won’t save you. If you can’t even do this yourself, then it’s hopeless for you. Show me that you can turn the impossible into possible. If you can’t, you’ll never capture the people’s hearts.”

That was true. The Hero’s power was decided by how many human hearts he could capture, after all.

“…Few people truly believe in me. How can I change that?” Sion wondered.

He removed the gold pin he’d stolen from the king from his pocket. It was engraved with Roland’s coat-of-arms and seemed to sparkle when he rotated it in his hand.

“You will need to capture more of their hearts than the current king… You must overwhelmingly capture their hearts. A miracle should occur if you do.”

Lucile told him that.

“If everyone in this country cheers for you, then a miracle, a legend… Can you create something like that?”

Lucile Eris told him that.

A miracle. A legend. A heroic tale.

That was what he needed to captivate the people’s hearts.

Right now, he was just a powerless prince with accomplishments scattered here and there.

“……”

In this short span of time, he needed something big enough to make the world acknowledge him as a king. What kind of a miracle did he need for that?

“What should I do?”

Sion thought it through.

It wouldn’t be easy. Couldn’t be. But he still had to do it. If he didn’t, then all of his allies - Claugh, Miller, Luke, everyone who supported their revolution - would be killed.

Sion turned back. “Ferris.”

“Mm?”

“Let’s stop at your house first. I want to borrow your brother’s clothes.”

“Why—”

Sion pointed to his clothes, dirty with a mix of blood, rain, and vomit, and smiled wearily. “I’m embarrassed to go out like this, you know.”

“But you’re already outside like that. In other words, you’re a pervert who enjoys being seen like that.”

“Ahh, sorry, but I really don’t have time for this.”

Ferris looked a bit annoyed. “I see. So? What are you trying to accomplish?”

Sion smiled. For some reason, images of his friends flashed through his mind. Tony, Tyle, and Fahle, who had lost their lives in the battle with Estabul. Kiefer, the double-agent from Estabul. His late mother, who had said that she was happy to have given birth to him. And Ryner, who was imprisoned even now.

With them in his mind, he was able to answer Ferris’ question.

“I want enough power to save someone.”

He’d do anything for that. It didn’t matter what methods he had to use for it.

He gripped the pin he took from his father tightly in his hand.

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