Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 55

Chapter 55
The journey after the initial scuffle was smooth sailing. Leon was completely out of commission for a full day due to his hangover, but the mood within the caravan had improved greatly. People who used to be distant became friendlier thanks to that night’s feast, and even the previously tense adventurers and mercenaries started to get along.
Storm Caravan’s hired escorts didn’t only include Leon and Steel Claw. There were others as well, lower in rank, perhaps, but each with a role to fulfill.
The fact that they’d all come together in a single night was an unexpected delight for caravan leader Arnold. Of course, Leon also came out with something from the experience.
“You said you served in the Northern Army?” Leon asked.
Hansen, sitting beside him, shared his story.
“Yeah. Enlisted as a boy soldier and served for about ten years. The Northern Army mostly fights Mountain Orcs. Their skin’s like a rock, and they know how to wield weapons too. Vicious bastards.”
Leon munched on a piece of bread, listening closely. It wasn’t often he got to hear stories this vivid. Not only were they entertaining, but useful too.
For someone still inexperienced, tales from seasoned mercenaries were like rain on parched soil. He perked up, not wanting to miss a word.
Hansen continued, “They climb sheer cliffs barehanded, so their grip strength is insane. Not only can they snap wood, but they can also bend iron. And their palms are so tough that blades don’t even pierce them.”
“So how do you deal with them?”
“My own way,” Hansen replied with a smirk and gestured to the spear slung over his back. “They’re strong, sure, but their technique is trash. Just wild swings. You block and stab—simple. Their abdominal area is softer and less protected.”
“Their weak spot is the abdomen? But they’re orcs...”
“That’s Mountain Orcs for you.”
Usually, when fighting orcs—known for their extreme muscle mass—the standard method was to go for the joints or the head. Their guts were wrapped in thick muscle, practically armor, making them one of the hardest spots to pierce. That’s why orcs often wore clothes as a symbol of status, not for protection.
Seeing Leon’s puzzled expression, Hansen chuckled and continued, “Mountain Orcs cling to cliffs with their arms and legs. Because of that, their torso gets less use, and they rarely expose their front side. Over time, their abdominal muscles have atrophied. Well, at least that’s what the scholars say.”
“I see.”
It made sense. Monsters adapted rapidly to their environments. Just as those Mountain Orcs had evolved for rugged terrain, those living near coasts or deserts would have their own adaptations—gills to breathe underwater, or sand-colored camouflage, for instance.
One could never know unless they encountered them themselves.
If I hadn’t met Hansen, I wouldn’t have known Mountain Orcs’ weak spots.
Leon repeated the information in his mind. If he ever fought one, he’d be ready. Even second-hand knowledge was a hundred times better than nothing, so he listened with eager nods and the occasional interjection that went against his usual character.
There were dozens of people besides Hansen he could talk to. A young B-rank adventurer who was also approachable—nobody had reason to turn him away.
It’s not like there’s much else to do on the road.
Most of their time was spent in transit, covering long distances by carriage. Compared to that, meals and camping were brief. There weren’t many ways to entertain oneself inside a cramped carriage either, so talking to others was the best option.
And in those conversations, Leon was also introduced to a harsh truth.
“Hey, kid. What’s the deal between you and the lady?” Hamel, one of the Steel Claw mercenaries, whispered conspiratorially.
“
Huh
? What are you talking about?”
“C’mon, no need to be shy. You two share a carriage—says a lot, doesn’t it?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Oh? Is it a mentor-student thing then? You do move kinda similar. But still, you two seem way too casual for that. No sense of one-sided respect.”
Leon was surprised that someone noticed similarities in their movements, but he tried not to show it. As a former ranger, Hamel’s powers of observation were no joke.
Still, he couldn’t be totally honest, so he replied, “We got closer while doing a job together. But no, it’s not what you think.”
“So not yet,
huh
?” Hamel teased with a grin.
“What do you mean ‘yet’?! There’s no ‘yet’!” Leon snapped, only for the man to cackle wickedly and flee.
There was no end to that guy’s playfulness.
Leon sighed, but as he mulled over Hamel’s words, he realized there was some truth in them. To others, their relationship probably seemed suspicious.
A young B-rank traveling alone with an A-rank beauty in a shared carriage? I probably looked like a pretty boy riding her coattails.
No wonder Hansen and the other mercenaries picked a fight. They must’ve seen him as some freeloader hiding behind a woman, leeching off her high-caliber jobs.
That would’ve rubbed any battle-hardened mercenary the wrong way. A single duel cleared up the misunderstanding, but he wouldn’t get to resolve all future conflicts as easily.
“I just have to become more convincing,” Leon muttered and looked down at his palms.
Calloused and worn to the point where no palm lines remained, a testament to how hard he’d trained. When it came to working hard, he could outwork anyone.
If he lacked something, he’d make up for it with grit. If he was inexperienced, he’d train harder. No one was perfect from the start.
Well... maybe one person was.
Leon chuckled to himself. He found himself missing El-Cid’s boasts that almost sounded like lies. Listening to that voice always made even the worst hardship seem trivial.
However, he couldn’t keep relying on El-Cid forever. Being swung just three times put El-Cid on silence of a whole month. Who knew what the next price might be?
He had to get stronger so he wouldn’t have to rely on El-Cid’s power. Leon placed his hand on the sword at his waist.
The only chances to step off were during meals and at camp. He couldn’t swing a sword inside the cramped carriage, so he had to make the most of these short moments.
Listening to stories was great, but to make use of them, he had to be strong enough to act on them.
Leon’s sword sliced sharply through the air. And so, his daily routine began once again.
***
Two swords clashed with a deafening
clang
, scattering sparks. The shockwave bursting from the point of impact between a longsword and a zweihander swept across the area, raising clouds of dust from the dry ground.
Leon, pushed back from the clash of raw power, coughed up blood from the corner of his lips. That was the price of ramming two Aura Weapons together with full force. Had he won the exchange, it might’ve been different—but the recoil had turned his insides over.
“
Guh
...!”
As Leon bent over in pain, Gustav spoke.
“You’re strong. Blocking my blade head-on like that.”
It sounded boastful, but he was genuinely complimenting Leon. His nickname was “Smasher.” Born with monstrous strength, he could swing a 2.3-meter zweihander like it was a wooden training sword, all without using Aura.
When he imbued Aura into his zweihander, he became a walking siege weapon. He could probably tear through a castle gate with a single strike.
“I didn’t block it...
Ugh
, I deflected it.”
Leon shook his head, but Gustav chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder.
“How many guys do you think could pull that off in front of me? I didn’t use a skill, sure, but I gave it everything I had. Never thought you’d take it head-on instead of dodging.”
“I’m starting to regret it.”
“What’s that?
Hahaha
!”
It was the kind of foolishness only possible in a sparring match. Power for power, speed for speed.
Leon looked down at his trembling hands and thought,
If this were a real fight, I wouldn’t have had time to defend after that and my head would’ve flown off. This was a losing exchange.
Gustav was a B-rank adventurer who was borderline A-rank. He was facing someone he couldn’t beat even once in ten tries.
Weighing Gustav’s strength carefully, Leon lowered his sword. He wasn’t severely injured, but he had taken some internal damage. There was no point in continuing.
“Let’s stop here. Thank you for sparring with me,” Leon expressed his gratitude.
“Anytime, kid. Just say the word. Exchanging swords with someone like you helps me too.”
Gustav laughed heartily as he sheathed his zweihander.
Seeing such a massive blade, over two meters long, move so smoothly felt surreal. Hansen had said Gustav once defeated an orc in an arm-wrestling match—and after seeing his strength, it didn’t seem far-fetched.
As they began walking back to the carriage, Gustav suddenly scratched his head as if remembering something and muttered, “
Ah
. Actually, guess we won’t be able to spar for a while.”
He wore a regretful expression as he rubbed the back of his head and added, “We’re entering the forest this afternoon. If we make noise like that in the woods, we’ll draw monsters.”
“How many days to get through it?” Leon asked.
“Three if we’re lucky. Five at most.”
“There’s a chance we’ll be attacked?”
“Of course. A caravan this size might be left alone, but this forest’s danger level is medium. If a mid-tier monster spots us, it’ll definitely attack.”
“Mid-tier... like what?”
“In this area? Mostly trolls.”
Leon’s eyes widened at the mention. Even people who’d never fought monsters knew the name of those grotesque giants.
“Adult Forest Trolls stand around four to five meters tall and are surprisingly nimble. They’re different from Swamp Trolls, who have big bellies and move sluggishly. Some even climb trees.”
“What? Trolls climb trees?”
“People who’ve never seen them don’t believe it, even though Forest Trolls are practically primates.”
Intrigued, Leon headed to Steel Claw’s carriage to hear more. Gustav wasn’t the type to spout nonsense, so if he said Forest Trolls climbed trees, they really did. Had he faced them without that knowledge, he would’ve been in serious trouble.
Seeing how receptive Leon was, the mercenaries were happy to share more information.
“And Forest Trolls never travel alone. Unlike Swamp Trolls who stay in their territory, these guys form packs and invade other monsters’. Sometimes they even use goblins or orcs as underlings.”
“You know how goblins are sneaky, clever monsters? If they charge you recklessly, chances are the trolls sent them in as bait. While you're distracted by the goblins, the real attack comes from the sides or the rear.”
None of this was taught at the Academy. It was precious, hard-earned knowledge. Leon noted every word and thanked the mercenaries.
Just then, an announcement sounded throughout the caravan. It was Arnold’s voice.
“We are now entering the forest. All escort individuals, please focus on your duties.”
The uneventful journey across the plains was over. They had now entered the monster-infested forest. Leon said his goodbyes and returned to his carriage.
Karen, who had been lying down, sat up with a long yawn and asked, “What, time to work, Mr. Hero?”
“They said we’re entering the forest.”
“Nothing usually happens at the start. Tonight or tomorrow during the day is when things get tricky.”
Unlike Leon, the veteran Karen remained unbothered. She didn’t get where she was by luck, or a single big job like Leon. She had completed over a hundred successful jobs. Forest fighting and caravan escorting were nothing new to her.
Monsters had complex yet predictable tendencies. Karen, who understood that well, lay back down in her hammock. Leon leaned against the seat, following her lead.
Tonight, or tomorrow...
Would her prediction come true?
As the carriage slowed, Leon used the moment to steady the internal injuries he’d suffered during his duel with Gustav.
He needed to be in top shape before battle. He’d be fully recovered in two or three hours.
Only the sound of their breathing filled the carriage—until even that was drowned out by the noise of the wheels rattling over the forest’s uneven terrain.
Time passed. And as the sun dipped below the horizon—
“We’re under attack!”
Just as Karen predicted, the monsters began their assault.