The Banished Black Swordsman Wants a Peaceful Life with the White Saint in the Frontier ~Huh? You Want Him to Come Back with the Saint? It’s Already Too Late~ - 57

Chapter 57: A Fight?

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The campfire was still breathing faintly. Each time the wind passed through, the orange flames lifted softly, then quickly shrank back down. On both sides of the road, black masses lay scattered, and the smell of blood overlapped with the dampness of the soil. The valley swallowed all sound, and the trees gave no reply.

Eventually, Lloyd let out a deep breath. The heat that had pooled at the bottom of his lungs slowly flowed out. The mark carved into his right arm—〈Malice Glyph〉—had calmed as though the earlier throbbing had been a lie, and the dark hue beneath his skin was fading.

Even so, countless small cuts remained on his shoulders, arms, and side, and his cloak openly displayed the streaks torn by claws.

…In the end, Lusha ended up saving me.

That single line sank into his thoughts. It sank deeper, growing heavier with each moment. Without that light, how far would he have gone? Where would he have stopped, and who would he have cut down? Would he even have cut down the girl he wanted to protect?

The instant he imagined it, his throat dried as if sand had been poured into it. Without Lusha, this curse could not be controlled. He felt as though that reality had been laid bare before him. Self-loathing spread through his body, like the lingering residue of the mark itself. The faint sound of fabric brushing closer reached his ears. The edge of silvery hair was illuminated by the campfire’s orange glow.

“…Please sit down. I’ll treat you.”

Lusha said it hesitantly, her voice so soft it seemed it might disappear.

“Yeah… I’m counting on you.”

Lloyd averted his gaze from her and sat down on a flat stone beside the remains of the wagon. At the edge of his vision, he saw Lusha pull back her hood slightly and place both hands near his shoulder. A gentle light bloomed from her fingertips and seeped between the torn cloak and his skin.

The temperature wasn’t high, yet it reached deep, close to the bone. Torn flesh closed slowly, as though being stitched with invisible thread. The dull pain lingering deep in his shin also faded, as if dissolving.

“Please don’t move yet. I still need to neutralize the poison.”

She whispered briefly and turned her palm slightly. Pale golden light shifted shape between her fingers, gently brushing away the core of the piercing numbness. Up close, he noticed that her eyelashes—matching the color of her hair—were damp with something other than light.

…What am I supposed to say?

He knew he had to say something. And yet, right now, he didn’t have the courage to touch those tears with words. In the end, Lloyd simply kept his eyes lowered and quietly entrusted himself to the light. Beneath it, the mark on his right hand faded further, returning to a hue like that of an old scar.

How much time had passed? From afar, the sound of multiple hooves striking stone drew closer. One light, then another, emerged from the shadows of the valley. At the front, a small figure pulled on the reins and squinted under the lantern’s glow.

“—Are you two safe!?”

It was Cron, the so-called “boy merchant.” Behind him followed men carrying spears on their shoulders and an empty wagon meant for hauling cargo. It seemed he had rushed over with reinforcements. Multiple lights bloomed across the valley, clearly outlining the corpses. The black of the blood looked even darker, and the campfire’s orange seemed unreliable by comparison.

“Whoa… Shadow Wolves, huh!? No wonder caravan guards couldn’t handle that. You really caught the attention of a nasty bunch.”

Cron scratched his head as he looked over the monster corpses. Shadow Wolves were powerful monsters that lived deep within the forest and rarely appeared near human settlements. They were not creatures that ordinary mercenaries or monster hunters could deal with. Even Hero Julius’s party would struggle to face this many Shadow Wolves.

“…That’s all of them. None got away.”

Lloyd said this as he stood up. A dull heaviness still lingered in his legs, but there was no critical pain.

“You took down a whole pack of Shadow Wolves with just the two of you? That’s incredible… You’re even stronger than I imagined.”

“It was the job.”

Lloyd replied curtly. Somehow, he didn’t feel like accepting praise right now. Cron snorted softly, then glanced around. Some of the men groaned in disgust as they maneuvered the wagon closer while avoiding the bodies. The dry sound of spear butts striking stone pricked at the silence.

Throughout the exchange, Lusha said nothing. She poured the last of the light onto Lloyd’s sleeve, focusing on purification and detoxification. The lantern’s white glow softly revealed the streaks of tears still clinging to her profile. Cron must have sensed the air between them at a glance. His brows drew together slightly.

“So… What about your reward? If you come by the office today, I can pay you on the spot.”

What should we do? 

Lloyd shifted his gaze sideways. Lusha had pulled her hood low, her expression unreadable. Still, going all the way back to town now, only to return to the abandoned village again, would be exhausting. It would be better to head straight back from here.

“…Let’s leave it for today. I’m pretty worn out.”

After a brief pause, he answered. His own voice sounded strangely shallow.

“I see. Well, come by anytime. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Cron shrugged exaggeratedly and let out an exasperated sigh. Then he stepped closer and added in a lowered voice,

“And… Make sure you’ve made up by the next time you come.”

“…………”

There was no reply. Lloyd looked off toward the distance and let out a small breath. He wasn’t even sure if “making up” was the right word. He hadn’t thought they were fighting, but to Cron, it must have looked that way.

“Alright, everyone! Let’s start hauling the living cargo!”

Stepping back, Cron began barking short orders to the men. Some carried the bodies toward the slope farther in. Others moved the wagons back. Others doused the campfire with water. The site filled with the sounds of work, and the valley finally regained a sense of human presence.

Lloyd placed a hand on the horse’s muzzle and loosened the reins. The horse let out a tired breath and flattened its ears. He saw Lusha sitting quietly at the edge of the wagon bed, hesitantly.

“Let’s head back.”

He said it briefly as he climbed onto the driver’s seat.

“…Yes.”

A slightly hoarse voice answered. That was the end of their conversation. The driver’s seat and the wagon bed. Between the two of them, a single circle of light fell. Lloyd gently shook the reins and patted the horse’s shoulder.

A fight, huh… Come to think of it, I’ve never really fought with anyone before.

Remembering Cron’s words, that thought crossed his mind. In all his life, he’d never grown close enough to someone to fight with them. And because of that… When things went wrong like this, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. When it involved someone of the opposite sex, it was even harder.

Even as the valley ended and the road widened, the conversation never began. What enveloped the two of them was the pale light of the moon, the sound of wheels, the chilled night air… And silence.

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