Vol 1 Chapter 24 – Erik vs. Brecht【Vol 1 – Spoiled Princess Arc】

“So you’re the Hero, huh? Let’s see what you’re really made of!!”

The man shouted that and slashed at Erik.

That lunge was clearly beyond a mere bandit’s reach—it belonged to someone formally trained.

Erik, thinking how different this man was from an ordinary thug, met the blow head-on.

“Oh? So you can at least block.”

“I can manage the basics—ha!”

Watching the blade creep closer, Erik’s eyes sparkled.

Sure enough, the man’s strength topped his own.

Oraaa!!

Guh!!

While Erik focused on the sword, the man’s kick smashed into his flank.

He threw up his arm as a shield, sparing organs and bones.

The impact forced him to spring back, widening the gap.

“Nice reflexes. Looks like you’ve seen your share of fights.”

“Yes, fortunately.”

King Rei’s brutal orders had given Erik plenty of real battles despite almost no formal training.

That fact curled the man’s lips into a dangerous grin.

“All right, I’ll give you a name to take to the afterlife. I’m Brecht Speer, currently the humble boss of these bandits.”

“Ah—pleasure. I’m Erik.”

He introduced himself on reflex, then tilted his head.

Why did a bandit have a family name?

A surname required standing—how could a bandit claim it…?

“Perplexed that I’ve got a surname?”

“Yes, somewhat.”

“Simple story, really.”

With that, Brecht slammed a foot into the ground.

His speed eclipsed the earlier charge; Erik’s eyes flew wide.

He braced his sword to catch the downward strike aimed to cleave him in two.

“Guh…?! Th-this power…!”

The strength behind it dwarfed everything so far.

Inside, Erik thrilled.

Gwaa!!

Pressure mounted until Brecht’s blade bit into Erik’s shoulder.

The wounds Miriam had just healed reopened—and new ones joined them.

“Before I became some bandit chief, I was born to a proper house, you know. Can’t tell by looking now, I’m sure.”

Brecht chuckled low.

Even as he laughed, the killing force behind his blade never lessened.

“Oi! That’s why you can’t focus only on my sword!!”

Geh?!

Brecht’s rising toe sank into Erik’s gut.

He face-planted spectacularly—felt great.

“Yaa-hoo! Dieee!!”

Seeing an opening, one bandit lunged at Erik.

Brecht merely watched, as if studying him.

The instant the bandit’s sword reached him, Erik sprang up and drove his blade through the man’s chest.

“Gah!”

“Hmph!”

He yanked the sword free; blood splattered as the bandit collapsed.

“Hoh… so you’re not total trash. Not a monster, either. And killing doesn’t seem to bother you. Bit contradictory, isn’t it?”

“Contradictory how?”

Erik stood, one hand on his stomach.

That dull ache… not bad.

“They call you the Altruistic Charity Hero, don’t they? Should a hero who ‘cherishes others’ be killing people?”

Brecht slashed as he spoke.

From above, from the side, from below.

His sword rampaged in every direction, and Erik somehow kept up.

“I never came up with that title myself, you know. And I do pick whom I save.”

Erik wasn’t about to save just anyone.

Enduring pain to rescue a villain might be fine, but if he had to choose, he’d rather help a good person.

His power simply couldn’t save everyone.

“That so? Well, I don’t like you.”

The swords clashed with a harsh crack.

Locked at the guard again, Brecht’s greater strength and bulk started to overwhelm him.

“Word is you still rescue folks the world calls villains. Heard all about it.”

“Kh…!”

Straining to push back, Erik couldn’t answer.

Truth was, he never bothered judging good and evil—he just chased pleasure wherever it led.

“I hate hypocrites like you!!”

With that snarl, Brecht suddenly relaxed the pressure.

Erik, still exerting force, lurched forward.

Brecht’s sword slashed his now-unguarded body.

“Erik!!”

Though battles raged all around, Miriam had watched only him. Seeing the cut, she screamed.

Blood sprayed, yet Brecht looked faintly dissatisfied.

“Flashy bleeding, but not very deep. You pulled back at the last second, huh?”

“Hmph…”

Hand over the wound, Erik smiled thinly. Nice pain.

Just as Brecht had guessed, he’d hopped back to avoid a fatal cut.

Still, the Ogre fight had drained him—he couldn’t dodge completely.

Not that he would have dodged even if he could.

“So you hate hypocrites…”

“Yeah. I despise those who parade around pretending they ‘work hard for others.’ In the end they only care about themselves, act for their own sake, yet refuse to admit it. Worse, they shove their hypocrisy on everyone else. I can’t stand it!”

Brecht punctuated the rant with a violent stomp.

He never noticed that his audience wasn’t a hypocrite—just a raging masochist.

“Ever wonder why I’m this strong?”

“A bit, yes…”

Indeed, Brecht’s power towered above the other bandits.

Rough living explained some of it, but being leagues above the crew felt odd.

“I used to serve in the Kingdom of Vilemse’s knight order.”

“What…?!”

Alfred, listening while fighting, snapped his eyes wide.

A knight fallen to banditry…?

He could hardly believe it, but if true it explained Brecht’s prowess.

Unlike the rabble, he’d had real military training.

That training set him far above the rest.

“Why did you leave the knights and become a bandit?”

“Told you already—I hate hypocrites. Knights are walking hypocrisy. ‘Protect the royals, protect the people, uphold chivalry’ even if it kills you. Sickening. I joined because I wanted legal violence!”

(Um, that’s pretty much what a knight order is. Even a farm boy like me knows that.)

He kept the thought to himself.

Better to say it once Brecht’s mood soured further.

More pain for him.

Unaware of Erik’s impure motives, Brecht’s story reached its climax.

“Guess my superior caught wind of my mindset. He confronted me—I lost my temper and killed him. Had to quit after that.”

“You… killed a comrade?!”

“Comrade? Never felt any bond to begin with, idiot.”

Brecht laughed at Alfred’s outrage.

Knights like that really ticked him off.

The job was to kill Debora, but he might as well wipe out that knight and the Altruistic Charity Hero while he was at it.

Breathing the same air as hypocrites was infuriating.

“Do what you want and live! That’s the human way! What’s the fun in pretending to be someone else? Screw chivalry, and screw the knight order and that Hero who worships them!”

“Is that so…”

Brecht smiled, satisfied at venting.

Erik smiled back.

“Well, that’s your view. I’ll keep putting my body on the line.”

For pleasure.

“Huh?”

A muscle in Brecht’s cheek twitched.

“Nothing I said moved you? You’ve got decent strength—you could live pretty well if you just gave in to desire.”

“Yes. Even so.”

Erik’s denial was gentle yet firm.

He preferred the pleasure of being hurt over hurting others.

“I haven’t come this far alone: Miriam who braves hardship with me, the people who look up to me, the royals who test me—I’m grateful to all of them.”

“Erik…”

Miriam’s eyes glistened with emotion.

Beside her, Debora’s eyes widened.

They sparkled brilliantly.

That resolute refusal of evil looked just like someone she’d seen in the castle…

“He’s like the hero of a story…”

No, he’s just a masochist.

But Miriam and Debora didn’t know that, and even Alfred and the other knights were deeply impressed.

His words sounded perfectly noble.

“Tch, that so?”

Brecht’s face twisted with displeasure.

“Hearing that just makes me want to kill you more!!”

With that roar, Brecht swung viciously at Erik.

A crushing overhead blow.

Erik raised his blade; the clash rang out with a sharp clang.

Brecht still held the advantage, and Erik’s sword began to yield.

“What’s wrong, huh?! After all that big talk, nothing’s changed!”

Brecht jeered.

See? A hypocrite, through and through.

Same tactic as before.

Keep pressing, slice him slowly.

Or drop the pressure, let him stumble, then pummel him.

In close quarters, Brecht dominated.

Objectively, that was clear—Miriam watched, deeply worried.

And that was Brecht’s mistake.

“Wha?!”

His stance faltered.

Their blades screeched as Erik let the force slide off.

Erik had parried.

He guided Brecht’s sword aside along the steel.

A technique no amateur could pull off.

Convinced Erik couldn’t manage such finesse, Brecht had relaxed—and paid for it.

“Tch!!”

Still, he wouldn’t go down easily.

Erik’s move was rough, and Brecht managed to slash his arm.

Blood spurted.

Pain and bleeding usually slow a person.

Even a trained knight stiffens for a heartbeat.

(That heartbeat’s all I need to run!)

He couldn’t counter, but he could retreat—Brecht grinned… and froze.

Erik didn’t stiffen—instead, he closed in, smiling.

“Y-you…!!”

Wounded and in pain, yet thrilled to fight on.

Brecht knew this kind of creature.

—A berserker. One who lives for battle, laughs at death, screws loose beyond counting.

“Altruistic Charity Hero? My ass…! You tricked me…!!”

A cute little title didn’t suit him at all.

He charged ahead, smiling, intent on killing, savoring pain.

A stark contrast to the gentle image of a self-sacrificing hero.

Still, he was just a masochist.

“Hmph!”

Erik’s blade tore into Brecht.