The Lord Of Blood Hill-Chapter 12: From Here On, You're on Your Own!

Unfortunately, Kavize's distinctive gray-white hair draws the attention of seven or eight cavalrymen.
However, Kavize is formidable. He pulls a large bow from his saddle, turning to brace himself against his horse's head.
With his left hand gripping the bow, holding three arrows parallel to the bowstring, he releases one with his right hand.
His fingers deftly flick another arrow into place, shooting four arrows in quick succession, bringing down four of the pursuing cavalrymen.
After this rapid assault, the remaining four cavalrymen are ready.
They immediately spur their horses apart and return fire at Kavize. His aim remains steady, even when an arrow grazes his shoulder, he doesn't flinch. However, his horse is less fortunate, taking two arrows and rearing up in pain.
Kavize slips his feet from the stirrups, nimbly jumping onto the saddle, crouching to shoot another arrow, unseating another rider.
Seizing the moment, Kavize leaps from the saddle, grabbing a branch above, hooking his legs around it, and hangs upside down to release another arrow.
Now, only two cavalrymen remain. Kavize flips to the ground, dodging incoming arrows, circles behind the tree, draws his bow, and steps out to shoot through a rider's throat.
The last remaining cavalryman pushes his horse to its limits, choosing not to shoot but to draw his sword, aiming a slash at Kavize's neck.
Kavize advances instead of retreating, leaping high to meet the rider's height.
In mid-air, his body twists in an uncanny way, almost as if lying flat in the air.
He dodges the slash and, with precision, slips his sword through the gap in the rider's armor, slicing his neck.
Kavize lands gracefully, flicking his sword to scatter the blood from its blade.
He looks over at Henwell, who is hiding behind a rock, and says, "Pretty cool, huh? If you want to learn, I can teach you."
Henwell isn't in the mood for jokes. He retrieves Kavize's horse, carefully pulling out the arrows and applying some ointment to stop the bleeding and ease the pain.
"We need to move. The rest of those cavalrymen will definitely come after us. When they find their comrades dead here, they'll send even more to chase us down."
Kavize shrugs, "I thought you'd be disappointed I didn't die."
Henwell replies, exasperated, "This isn't the time for jokes. I've told you, in this chaos, they don't care who I am. They won't just take me in. Even if they're merciful and don't kill me on the spot, they won't let me stay in the camp or city. In this cursed weather, I'd be dead outside, so..."
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Before he can finish, Kavize pushes Henwell aside and releases an arrow.
As Henwell scrambles to his feet, he sees an allied cavalryman not far away, an arrow through his throat, collapsing to his knees.
This rider, who had been thrown from his horse earlier, hadn't died from the fall.
He had just regained his strength and tried to shoot at them, only to be killed by Kavize's swift arrow.
Henwell turns to see Kavize sitting on the ground, an arrow embedded in his chest.
Stunned, Henwell rushes over, trying to stop the bleeding.
But in the feudal era, such a piercing wound is often fatal.
At this moment, the arrow has pierced through Kavize's right lung, and with each breath, blood-tinged foam pours from his mouth.
After coughing up a mouthful, Kavize says, "I must have been bewitched by the goddess of misfortune to take that arrow for you."
Henwell looks at Kavize with a complex expression.
"You can't die. If you do, my life will be a mess. Do you have any life-saving elixir? Hurry up and give it to me so I can use it on you."
Kavize chuckles bitterly, "Elixir? That's not something a mere mercenary like me can afford. I know my condition; I won't make it. Remember my supply point? Go there. You'll be less of a target on your own. From now on, you're on your own."
With that, Kavize hands his bow and sword to Henwell.
"You're destined for something extraordinary. Keep these as a memento, a testament that I once lived."
Henwell takes the sword and bow, hesitating for a moment.
"Do you have any unfinished business? If I survive this hellish world, I'll try to fulfill it for you."
Kavize's eyes grow distant.
"Unfinished business? Plenty, but none of it concerns you now. Just don't resent me."
Henwell nods.
"No debts remain with the dead. You dragged me into this, snatched me from the hope of life, and now you've taken an arrow for me. We're even."
Kavize laughs softly, "No debts remain with the dead—such honest words. You're quite unusual. Are you really just a kid? I hope I..."
Kavize's voice fades until he breathes his last, his lifeless eyes staring into the dark night sky.
After a moment, Henwell gently wipes the snowflakes from Kavize's face and closes his eyes. He finds a cloak from one of the fallen riders and covers Kavize's body.
"Though we stood on different sides and you both harmed and saved me, you taught me a lot. You're like a half-mentor to me. Given the urgency of the situation, I can only leave you here. If I get the chance, I'll look for your remains to give you a proper burial. If I can't find you, I'll remember this place and come to pay my respects."
After saying this, Henwell suddenly curses, "Damn you, Kavize! If it weren't for you, would I be suffering like this?"
Then, feeling a bit downcast, Henwell adds, "Thank you, Kavize. I was too optimistic before. Without you, my family and I would have starved in that cellar."
As the wind and snow intensify, Henwell turns to leave but suddenly remembers something.
He takes a few steps, then returns to Kavize's body and bows slightly. With the long sword and bow on his back, the young man walks into the blizzard.
Ten minutes later, a thin layer of snow covers where Kavize's body lies. Suddenly, the snow stirs as Kavize sits up, gasping for breath.
Watching the direction Henwell went, he murmurs, "It's a pity. If we'd met under different circumstances, I'd have liked to accompany you on your journey. But now, this is my way of saying goodbye. Remember, you said no debts remain with the dead."
As he speaks, Kavize places a hand over the arrow in his chest. A soft white glow emanates from his palm, turning the arrow to nothing and healing the wound quickly.
Once done, Kavize leaps to his feet, "Well, time for a new name. Let's go with Gru. Little one, I look forward to seeing you again. Go forth and create your own legendary path."
With that, Kavize turns and walks in another direction, disappearing completely into the snowstorm.