Chapter 221

Chapter 221

Bilker and his mother used to live off wild herbs, just the two of them. Ulgaro, who was a god who blessed war and hunting, did them no good. Naturally, the mother and son turned to the newly emerging god, Lou. The Sun God Lou, who promised a peaceful afterlife without one having to fight to earn it, was salvation for the northerners who were not warriors.

'My mother never told me I was Mijorn's grandson.'

It was an obvious precaution to take. Mijorn's bloodline was a thorn to the empire. There were actually several cases of Mijorn's children and grandchildren being captured and executed by the imperial army.

'She didn’t raise me as a warrior either.'

His mother never entrusted him to other warriors, either. She knew early on that Bilker's personality didn't suit that of a warrior.

Bilker shared his story with Krika as they walked.

"If you miss your mother so much, why don’t you just go see her?"

Krika sighed, puffing white breath into the air.

"She probably passed away already. By the time I left, her illness was already showing up on her face," Bilker said, rubbing his eyes.

Krika pulled out some cake made of potato.

"Here, have some of this. It'll give you strength."

Bilker’s appetite came back upon seeing the food. The faint sweetness of the potato tasted incredibly sweet to him.

Krika leaned against a tree for a break while Bilker ate the cake. He felt his body grow hotter.

'This is bad. I've been pushing myself too hard, and now I have a fever.'

Krika grabbed a handful of snow to cool his forehead. He hadn't had proper rest since the time he was beaten so badly that his arm broke.

'Maybe this is it for me.'

Krika watched Bilker eat the cake.

'Is it my fate to die saving this pig?'

His head spun. Krika stared at the dawn breaking.

"Ulgaro."

Krika blinked. The sunlight reflecting off the coniferous trees momentarily made them look like a person. A winged helmet flickered before his eyes.

'Is this my fate?'

Krika lowered his head and chuckled quietly.

"If you’re done eating, let’s get going, Bilker."

Krika urged Bilker. The northern warriors were most likely after them. They were not supposed to take a break like this.

Wobble.

Krika grasped the tree to pull himself up.

"Are you okay?" Bilker asked.

"Mind your own business," Krika replied, refusing Bilker's help. He stared ahead with determination.

'Was I born just to die here like this?'

Krika looked at his calloused palms.

He'd lived his life to become a great northern warrior. There was never a day when he didn’t have his weapons in his hands. Even when his flesh tore and his bones showed, he gritted his teeth and endured.

'Was I born to die in a snowy land like this, without making a name for myself?'

Fueled by frustration, Krika stood upright.

"I won't die here. You can't have my soul yet. It's too soon, way too soon," Krika muttered as he stared ahead.

Bilker sensed a strange madness and didn't dare speak to him.

After walking for a while, Bilker finally spoke up.

"Krika."

"What?"

"They came after us."

"Shit.”

Krika turned around. White specks appeared in the snow. It seemed like about a dozen northern warriors had followed Krika. Upon closer inspection, it was fifteen.

"Krikaaa! You betraying scum!"

"Even you’re siding with Lou!!”

"Come over to our side, Bilker!"

The warriors' shouts echoed through the snowy plains.

"We’re still far enough from them. Let's go, Bilker," Krika urged.

Bilker's heart pounded with anxiety. He couldn’t stand this situation.

'Krika is the one who’s in more danger. I shouldn't be the one trembling.'

Being an important figure, Bilker was probably going to survive. But Krika could lose his life the moment he was captured.

"Huff, huff."

Krika and Bilker were gasping for breath. They trudged through the snow that was deep enough to catch their feet every step. Their pursuers were also growing increasingly frustrated at the distance that didn’t seem to be closing.

Bilker grabbed the rope and pulled the boat across. It didn't matter if his hands were shredded in the process.

"Kagh, kugh, kugh," Krika gasped, clutching his heart.

His body was already feverish from before. His head throbbed, and with each breath, he felt like his heart might burst.

Thump! Thump!

Krika pounded his chest and groaned in pain as he collapsed to the ground.

"Put these on first!"

The fishing boat had finally reached Krika. Bilker brought him his clothes.

"Huff, huff, get my weapon too."

Krika’s lips had turned blue and were trembling. Even though he put on his clothes, the warmth that had already escaped his body did not return.

They were slowed down quite significantly by the broken oar. Three quick warriors were already caught up to them.

'In the end, there was no point in using the boat.'

Krika felt his vision blur.

'Damn, my vision is going dark.'

The lack of blood circulation made his sight dim.

"I swore to Ulgaro that I'd help you escape. Go, Bilker," Krika said, looking in the wrong direction. There was no focus in his eyes.

"I'm not leaving you behind. If I have to, I'll fight with you."

Bilker slowly drew a knife he couldn't even wield properly.

"Stop talking nonsense. You'd be no help."

"I could at least be a shield. We’re going together. I'm not going alone."

Krika twitched his lips.

"Crazy. Why didn't you fight like this earlier?"

Bilker trembled as he faced the approaching warriors. But he didn't collapse or run away.

"I don't care which god I believe in anymore. I don't want anyone else to die because of me. Let alone a friend."

Bilker forced a laugh through his fear. Krika burst into a derisive laugh.

"I'm not your friend."

"Then let's be friends from today."

For the first time, Bilker didn't yield to fear. During this short journey, he had found a small piece of courage. He still could not be as brave as the northern warriors or other men, but he didn't want to be a coward who abandoned even his friends.

Creak.

The warriors who had chased them drew their bows. They saw that Krika was in bad shape and aimed to finish him with arrows. An arrow was enough to finish off a warrior who couldn’t even see what was in front of him.

Thwip.

The sound of a bowstring being released.

Bilker knew the arrow was heading toward Krika. He wasn't skilled enough to deflect it.

Thuck.

Something that nobody expected happened. Even the warrior who shot the arrow was taken aback.

"Eh?"

Krika felt a blob of flesh covering him. Warm blood warmed his body. His vision hadn't fully returned, so everything was still blurry.

"Bilker?"

Krika poked at the blob. Sticky fluid rubbed off on his hands. When he touched the source, he found an arrow embedded there.

"Uuuuugh," Bilker groaned.

An arrow was lodged in his back. The excruciating pain that he had never felt in his life was making him lose his mind.

"Shit! You hit Bilker!" the warrior who didn’t shoot the bow shouted.

"H-hey, he just jumped in front of Krika out of nowhere! Who could’ve seen that coming?" The warrior who shot the arrow tried to explain himself. He had shot from a safe distance, aiming at Krika.

"Shut up and kill Krika first! We need to treat Bilker!"

"Krika! I'll skin you alive and pour hot water over you!"

The warriors drew their weapons, making a commotion.

Krika pushed Bilker away and stood up. With one hand, he raised his axe and glared at the warriors with his blurry vision.

"If you want to capture me alive, you'll have to give up your heads, you idiots," Krika said, baring his teeth. However, the warriors didn't rush him easily.

"What are you doing? Are the so-called warriors scared of some kid with a broken arm? Huh?"

Krika taunted, then sensed someone approaching from behind. He turned to see a towering man standing with the sun behind him. His face was shadowed, except for the twin glints of golden light.

"Brother Bilker, are you dead?"

Urich, emerging from behind Krika, lightly tapped the fallen Bilker with his foot.

"Uuugh," Bilker groaned, unable to muster the strength to respond.

"If Bilker dies, you'll all die. Actually, no, even if nothing happens to him, you'll all die here," Urich said, slurring his words. He had spent the past two days without sleep, tracking down Bilker's trail.