Fighting Spirit

"Then tell us what we should do!"

A farmer dressed in coarse cloth put the question to Sovell.

He dared to question Sovell directly because the foreign soldiers who had been harassing the village had all returned to camp.

Except, of course, for the one Sovell had beheaded with a single stroke.

Sovell walked toward him, and the farmer did not back away. The boy believed that the man already knew the right answer in his heart.

"It's simple."

As he spoke, Sovell picked up a hoe from beneath a nearby tree and handed it to the farmer, smiling as he said:

"We have to resist. We have to fight.

Drive these barbarians out.

To put it more bluntly-

Fuck them up!"

The farmer took the hoe, swung it twice, then stood behind Sovell.

"Everyone!

Take up arms!

Take up our hoes and pitchforks!

Take up our hammers and sickles!

We can't keep hiding like cowards!

We must defend our homes!

Protect the loved ones we cherish!

I-

Stam Ambrosius!

Swear upon my life!

We will show those foreign bastards the fighting spirit of the people of Great Britain!"

Clang!

Sovell drew his sword, the robe on his body transformed into a cloak, and he started toward the distant Saxon Barracks.

He knew there was no need to say anything more. The ringing steel as he drew his sword was his final rallying cry to these people.

The girl and the young man rose and followed silently, drawing the swords at their waists as well. The scrape of blades against scabbards echoed in everyone's ears.

The farmer tightened his grip on his hoe and followed.

In truth, Sovell knew he was taking a gamble.

He was betting that his first attempt at a rallying speech would be inspiring enough;

He was betting that these commoners whose homes had been trampled would have enough backbone to follow him.

The first hardly mattered. The second was what counted.

He could easily storm the foreigners' camp on his own.

If his magic circuits could activate normally, two or three seconds would have been enough to turn the entire camp upside down-literally.

Even now, it was no real problem. With only Mana Burst left at his disposal, he could still cut his way through the enemy, just a little less efficiently.

But if the villagers joined him in the attack, it would prove that he had successfully awakened the villagers' fighting spirit.

If he really succeeded, all that swearing would not have been wasted.

The next time the foreigners came to harass them, they might not necessarily be able to drive them away, but it would still be better than waiting helplessly to die.

He could save them once, twice, even three times, but there would always come a time when he could not.

When that time came, they would have to take the next step themselves.

This was what people meant by-

"Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day.

Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime."

(Giving someone a fish provides only a single meal;

Teaching someone to fish frees them from a lifetime of hunger.)

As Sovell thought this, he heard the first set of footsteps behind the farmer.

Then a second.

A third, a fourth.

The scattered footsteps of two or three people behind Sovell gradually swelled into the dense tread of seventy or eighty!

Sovell smiled at the head of the crowd.

Clearly, his gamble had paid off.

"Halt! Who goes there!"

A Saxon Sentry drew the curved sword at his waist and challenged the menacing crowd before him.

The man beside him also drew his curved sword and watched the newcomers warily.

The white-haired boy at their head wore an impassive expression and gave no reply. Then a blade flashed, and the sentry's head parted from his body.

His blood added a splash of crimson to the earth, gilded by the setting sun.

Seeing his companion's gruesome death, the other man shouted toward the camp behind him:

"Enemy attack! Enemy-"

Before he could finish his second cry of "enemy attack," the knight beside the white-haired boy had already driven a sword through his heart.

"We're not fighting for some empty notion of honor!

And certainly not for a bounty on foreign heads!

We're fighting only for ourselves!!!

For ourselves-

So we can keep living on our own land!

Rescue our loved ones!

Take back our food!

Drive these barbarians out of our homes!

Everyone, charge with me!"

The boy delivered his final declaration to the people behind him, then led the charge straight into the foreigners' camp!

"Artoria, let's go!"

"Understood, Brother Kay."

The brother and sister followed close on the boy's heels.

The farmer raised his hoe and shouted to his neighbors:

"Everyone, are we really going to rely on three children to reclaim our homes for us?

If these three children die for us while we stand by and do nothing!

How could we have the face to go on living!!!

How could we answer to the Lord after we die!!!

Just as that boy said-

'Drive these barbarians out of our homes'!

Kill!!!"

With that, he followed the three of them into the enemy camp.

A moment later, the farmer's brother charged forward beside him.

The others exchanged glances. Once one person stepped forward, a second and a third would naturally follow.

Little by little, they stopped hesitating and charged in with the tools they used every day.

"Kill!"

"For God! Kill!"

"Give me back my daughter!"

For a moment, battle cries shook the checkpoint. Alerted by the sentries, the Saxon soldiers inside the camp had already formed up to meet the attackers.

But...

It was utterly useless.

"Strike Storm (Wind King's Hammer)!"

The boy sheathed the sword at his waist, immediately drew it again, and hurled the scabbard forward.

When the gust unleashed by his blade touched the ornate scabbard, it instantly became a cannonball of condensed wind and blasted into the enemy formation!

"Damn it, this brat's a mage! Where the fuck did a sword-wielding mage come from?!"

Seeing a gap torn through his formation, the Saxon officer immediately burst into curses.

"Archers, loose! Loose now!"

Hearing the enemy officer order the archers to fire, Sovell dared not let his guard down and poured even more mana into his body.

To protect the defenseless villagers behind him, he had to cut through the archers' ranks before they could loose their arrows.

In the next instant, Sovell moved so fast that his figure blurred, charging through the gap Wind King's Hammer had blasted in the formation!

Not a single soldier carrying a bow escaped Sovell's blade!

"Go, Barghest!"

Blood soaked the soil, and the reek of blood and flesh awakened Barghest's instincts.

Thanks to Sovell's attentive care and the mana-rich food he fed her, Barghest's body had gradually approached her adult form.

And the negative emotions and souls she had obtained that day from the villagers whose homes had been destroyed had successfully brought her up to the standard of a mature form!