How to Survive Against Villains Chapter 153

Chapter 153: Hero Lochter Felice (2)

"Lochter, are you alright?"

"As you can see."

"You look like you're on the verge of death."

"..."

At my words, Lochter wiped his face with his hand. Droplets of blood dripped down. As he moved, blood seeped from the edges of his clothes and trickled down.

"It's not mine."

"That's even more of a problem."

If he faced people in this state…

‘They’d call him a butcher, not a hero.’

I had told him to kill everyone in sight, and he had taken that quite literally, swinging his sword with clear intent.

Shaking my head, I grabbed Lochter’s arm.

"Go wash up by the river."

"I'm fine."

"I'm not. Do you want to see people looking at you in fear?"

"Hmm… Fine."

"And also, collect the spoils."

"Spoils?"

Lochter frowned at my request to search the hunters' bodies for anything valuable. As a knight, he had upheld his dignity all his life, so such an act was foreign to him.

But that stubborn pride of his ends today.

"We’ll distribute them—to them."

I gestured behind , and Lochter silently followed my gaze.

A place crowded with massive wagons.

As Karl moved around the wagons, he began breaking the iron bars. One by one, people stumbled out, their figures haggard and their faces dark with despair.

Their ragged appearances, their lost expressions—these were people who had been captured as slaves by the hunters. And their numbers were overwhelming.

"They outnumber the hunters. All of them have lost their villages and families."

"They’ll need money."

Lochter looked at and gave a firm nod.

"We'll need a big cart."

Turning away, he walked toward the river—not to wash, but for sothing else. As a knight, he abandoned his sword. Instead, he grabbed an old cart. Then, pulling it behind him, he started rummaging through the dead hunters' belongings.

Rather than washing up, he focused entirely on collecting the spoils.

"He's changing."

Watching Lochter, I could sense his transformation.

The rigid beliefs he had held so steadfastly as a knight were beginning to crumble.

This was the process of a stubborn knight becoming a hero.

Was he even aware of this change himself?

No, not at all.

But one day, it would dawn on him.

That he had changed.

"Now that Lochter is occupied…"

With hundreds of dead hunters, it would take him quite so ti to search their bodies.

Leaving him to his work, I walked toward the gathering crowd.

Kkaang! Kkang—!

"Fuck, they really locked this up tight."

Karl cursed as he struck at the iron bars reinforcing the wagons.

Two out of the three wagons had already been broken open by his hands, and those who had escaped now hovered around him, their eyes filled with unease.

The air reeked of blood, and corpses lay scattered everywhere.

Of course, they would be frightened.

"You can relax now."

"...Ah!"

At my voice, all eyes turned toward .

The group consisted of about 30% n and 70% won. Most of the n were older, middle-aged artisans. Counting them all, there were about three to four hundred people.

If we included those still trapped in the remaining wagons, the total might reach five hundred. The rest were children.

It was too many for just , Karl, and Lochter to handle. We needed the people’s cooperation.

Standing before them, I smiled warmly.

"We ca here to rescue you at the request of a certain man. Ah, there he is."

I pointed to one side, directing their gazes toward Lochter.

A man, drenched in blood and sweat, rummaging through corpses and loading valuables onto a cart.

"The forr knight commander, Lochter Felice."

"......!"

"That is his na."

Just as I had done with the thirty people I sent to Blyer before, I began crafting Lochter into a hero.

Everyone here shared a similar fate.

They had lost their families and villages.

Having been rescued from their captors and hearing the na Lochter Felice, they gradually started to believe in my words.

Of course, there were those who doubted whether he was truly Lochter.

But then—

"It… It really is him."

"Are you certain?"

"I'm sure. I once saw him from a distance when I was delivering crafted goods to the lord’s castle."

An elderly artisan among them recognized Lochter Felice.

Lochter had been the knight commander in Blyer for over ten years. An artisan who had visited the castle would have had the chance to see him.

With his identity confird, the people’s expressions softened with relief.

The persuasion process ended surprisingly smoothly.

Now, it was ti to ask for their help.

I gathered the n and had them collect the hunters’ wagons. So were tasked with gathering any useful equipnt the hunters had left behind, which went smoothly since there were a good number of blacksmiths among them.

The won were assigned to prepare food and care for the children.

With everyone actively working, the situation quickly beca organized.

After a quick scan of the area, I headed toward Lily’s wagon.

When I stepped inside, she greeted with sparkling eyes, her hands clasped together.

"Did you get it?"

"Here it is."

"Wow!"

Lily gasped as she examined the set of jewelry I handed her.

I had specifically gathered the belongings of dead Aura users, and as expected, their items were far more valuable than those of regular hunters. Selecting only the jewelry, I had given them to her, and now she was completely srized like a child with a new toy.

"Guess I won’t be hearing about restaurants for a while."

Looking to the side, I saw Keros, the black-furred dog, sitting quietly, his tongue sticking out as he watched Lily.

Since he had been dozing off instead of protecting her, he probably felt guilty.

Glancing at Keros briefly, I asked Lily,

"Can I borrow him for a bit?"

"Why? Got soone you wanna burn to ashes? Tell , I’ll do it!"

It seed the jewelry had worked a little too well on her.

"...Just tell him to stay still."

"Stay still?"

"Yes."

When I lifted Keros by his body, he flicked his tongue and glared at .

Yeah, I get it. You’re annoyed. But let’s try to get along.

"Stay, doggy."

At Lily’s firm command, Keros lowered his head and surrendered to .

Sorry, but you’re no match for .

Tucking Keros under my arm, I stepped outside the wagon.

"Uwaaaang!"

As soon as I erged, I was t with wails.

The children, who had been holding their breath in fear, finally let out their pent-up emotions, bursting into tears.

All of them had sothing in common.

Their eye or hair colors were rare, making them valuable. The hunters had only taken those who could fetch a high price.

Karl, looking at the sobbing children, frowned and attempted a bright smile as he leaned closer.

"Mommy!"

The children wailed even harder.

"Karl, go help Lochter. You’re just making things worse here."

"The hell, man?"

Muttering complaints, Karl left to assist Lochter. I then placed Keros on the ground before the children.

Thud!

"...Huh?"

The mont I set him down, he leapt back into my arms. When I threw him again, he imdiately jumped back—woof!—straight into my embrace.

Did he figure out what I was trying to do?

Too late.

As soon as they saw the small, adorable dog, the children stopped crying and flocked to him.

"A puppy!"

"So cute!"

"Woof, woof!"

Why did it sound like Keros was screaming, "Get off !" in my ears?

Keros froze stiff under the children's touch.

I had offered him up as a sacrifice to lighten the mood, and thankfully, the reaction was positive.

As the children brightened up, so did the expressions of the won tending to them. Even in the heart of a battlefield stained with blood, the presence of children brought a sense of relief to people's faces.

'So this is what it ans when they say children are treasures among adults.'

I gathered the older artisans.

About fifteen of them.

They were blacksmiths and leatherworkers who had been honing their craft for decades.

When I asked where they had lived, their answers varied—each from a different village.

"Is there a leader among you?"

"The leaders were the first to be killed by the hunters. But while none of us were the village chiefs, most here held important roles in our communities."

As artisans in small villages, they would have been responsible for more than just their craft—they would have overseen significant matters of village life.

I listened to their accounts.

Where the hunters had co from, how many there were, and whether they had said anything unusual.

Rather than seeing from the hunters' perspective, I wanted to hear the story from those who had been captured.

After so ti, I spoke.

"Go to Blyer. If you follow Lochter Felice’s na in the city, you’ll find the people you're searching for."

I made them the sa proposal as before. The only difference was that so of them would be joining us for part of our journey.

They accepted my offer unanimously.

"Bring the wagons!"

There were plenty of wagons left behind by the hunters.

We selected the cleanest and most usable ones and brought them before the people.

The artisans were grouped together with others from their respective villages. Small groups of twenty to thirty boarded the wagons one by one.

Their destination: Blyer.

The n ard themselves with weapons left behind by the hunters, while the won tended to the children.

Before their departure, they received a final visit from Lochter—now cleaned up.

From his place atop one of the wagons, Lochter handed them jewels and gold coins.

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Sir Lochter, we will never forget this kindness."

With sincere gratitude, the people bowed their heads toward Lochter.

Without a word, he simply nodded and stepped down from the wagon, returning to his worn-out cart.

Inside the cart, glimring jewels and gold coins were stacked.

One by one, the wagons departed over ti—ten, twenty, thirty of them.

And with each departure, the treasure within Lochter’s cart dwindled.

Clatter, clatter—

Finally, the last wagon.

Lochter stood still, staring blankly until it completely disappeared from sight.

His cart was now empty.

"How do you feel?"

"A little lighter."

"You gave them everything."

"It was theirs to begin with."

As the final wagon vanished, Lochter turned away with a quiet, lonely smile.

From the long chase at dawn to the battle and the final rescue—everything had finally co to an end as the sunset burned red in the sky.

With our backs to the setting sun, Lochter and I walked side by side.

Two long shadows stretched across the blood-stained land.

Seeing those shadows made think of Fenry.

Had Fenry safely arrived in Beneta with Nella?

That thought made understand the aning behind the faintly bitter smile on Lochter’s face.

"Are you worried about those who left?"

"They’re just ordinary people without escorts."

"We are only three. We can't take responsibility for all of them. We've given them transportation, money, and weapons. Reaching Blyer is now up to them."

"I know."

"Do you like the weapons?"

At my question, Lochter stopped and glanced down at the four swords strapped to his waist.

When the blacksmiths saw that all of Lochter’s swords had been broken, they repaired whatever decent weapons they could find and presented them to him.

Once the blades had been reforged, the won carefully cleaned the scabbards and hilts before handing them over.

The finishing touch—children had decorated each sword handle with simple charms made of grass.

None of the swords were particularly fine.

In fact, they were old and worn.

And yet—

"I like them. More than any other swords."

As he gently ran his fingers along the hilts, a small smile ford on Lochter’s lips.

For the first ti, I felt like I was seeing it.

The smile of a hero.