Berserk: The Prophet

Chapter 300 Mercenaries? No, they're bandits!

Over the years, ever since Green was able to dress and feed himself, Seranti had stopped interfering in his affairs. Whether it was fighting, stealing for food, or running around frantically, he wouldn't interfere.

Because he wanted to teach him early on how to survive in this world. No one will support you for free; you have to rely on yourself to survive.

Only in this way could he face the extremely dangerous journey.

Seranti watched the child raise himself, and although he was always clumsily beaten by the street urchins and ran back in tatters, he would always show a fawning and timid smile and call him "Father".

It was probably because the child knew that his adoptive father would be unhappy if he lost the fight.

...He was clumsy, and no matter what Thranduil taught him, he found it difficult to learn.

But he knew that if he called Seranti "father," the meal that night would usually be pretty good.

Seranti looked somewhat dazed. ...When exactly did it begin?

...That child seems like a completely different person.

...Did it start with that child killing the group of fugitives?

Since then, I've learned both weapons and herbal identification quite quickly.

Seranti gave a wry smile: "...I always felt that the child had suddenly become a different person."

Trunks tilted his head back and downed the wine in his glass in one gulp. It has to be said that since losing his left arm, he has become somewhat fond of drinking.

"People always change. Perhaps a certain opportunity makes them suddenly see the cruelty of this world."

"Just like you and me back then, weren't we also forced to grow into who we are today at some point in time?"

Seranti remained silent, as if his thoughts were being pulled back to that cruel, unknown past.

"Yes, you're right. Fate is unpredictable. No matter who you are, you have to rely on yourself to truly stand on your own two feet in this world."

Trunks set down his glass, the bottom striking the wooden table with a dull thud that echoed clearly in the quiet attic. His amber eyes, slightly tinged with the smell of alcohol, looked at Seranty. “But you’d better be prepared; when the fledgling learns to fly, it will no longer be content with the protection of the nest.”

Seranty stroked the cup, as if pondering the meaning of Trunks' words. Even after living in human society for over thirty years, his perspective on court politics and power as a wandering knight was still quite limited.

"...What's the meaning?"

"...I think that kid is ready to go back to Pendor."

Seranti paused, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes. "Back to Pendor... has he really made up his mind?"

Trunks patted Seranty on the shoulder. "Look, even his own retinue has found him and is so supportive of him."

"Over the past three years, he has grown strong enough around us, understanding the court, politics, and the methods and interests that nobles are accustomed to using. He even has a good understanding of war. Now he only needs a little practical experience to make rapid progress. Theoretical knowledge alone is not enough."

“I have heard that the Kingdom of Lionfire is currently at war with the Kingdom of Raven and the Duchy of Dexia, and is therefore unable to attend to the Child of Prophecy.”

Thranduil remained silent for a long time, but he understood the meaning behind Trunks' words. But wouldn't a child under ten years old be exploited and abducted by someone with ulterior motives?

“He doesn’t belong here after all. Pande is his homeland, where he has his mission and responsibilities.”

"...Perhaps now is the best time. He can take advantage of the Lion Realm being busy with the chaotic war to cultivate his own network and wings." Trunks looked out the window, where the warm sunlight seemed about to become scorching and dazzling.

"You've taught him how to survive in this world, but it's time to let him face real challenges."

.........

Just as Green finished completing the relevant procedures for the dye shop, a strange vibration spread outwards from the dragon-shaped pattern on his chest, and for a moment it seemed as if time stood still.

Consciousness travels through space.

[Reconnecting to consciousness... Berserk world has finished loading...]

When Green opened his eyes again, he was greeted by a cacophony of sounds.

"...Oh no, oh no, it's a group of armed bandits!!"

...the burning flames and the screams of innocent villagers.

"!!!"

Green and the knights awoke simultaneously, swords drawn, a great battle about to erupt!

A group of mercenaries without an employer are plundering this place. It seems they've run into some tough guys today.

The Silver Mist Rangers drew their bows and unleashed a volley of three arrows each, instantly taking the lives of more than a dozen poorly equipped mercenaries!

Fortunately, they had developed the good habit of always carrying their armor and swords during their travels. The knights mounted their warhorses, which were parked behind the village chief's house, and were ready to set off!

"charge--!!"

Green mounted his warhorse, sword and shield in hand, and charged into the enemy ranks with the knights. The sounds of swords slicing through flesh and maces shattering armor and bones filled the air. Wherever they went, mercenaries were splattered with blood and killed on the spot!

The mercenaries hadn't expected to encounter such a formidable opponent, and their formation immediately crumbled. The mercenaries who had been scrambling for food scattered and fled in disarray.

They were incredibly unlucky to have such a powerful knight stationed here!

The mercenary squad fled in disarray, but the bandits who hadn't managed to mount their horses were no match for Green and his men. They were all beaten bloody and lay on the ground, unable to move. Only a few lucky ones managed to mount their horses and escape.

Unfortunately, the Silver Mist Rangers' archery skills were not to be underestimated; three people fell from their horses, while two others escaped after being hit by arrows.

"...Beast! Beast!!"

At this point, the villagers, who had finally come to their senses, unleashed a brutal beating on the mercenaries who were still lying on the ground, not yet dead.

Green had just breathed a sigh of relief, wiping the blood off his sword, when he saw a villager stumble and fall to the side of a corpse—a boy of no more than twelve or thirteen years old, with half a broken blade stuck in his chest and half a piece of hardened bread clutched tightly in his hand.

The villagers' cries and curses stopped abruptly, replaced by the suppressed sobs of the women.

The knight's adjutant rode over, dark red blood seeping from the gaps in his armor: "Boss, we've counted. Thirty-five enemies killed, seven captured. The enemy's armed strength isn't too bad. We also have two brothers who were wounded by crossbow bolts."

He paused, then lowered his voice, "Those fleeing mercenaries look like they're heading back up the mountain we came from."

"Okay, I understand. Tell the wounded to go and rest."

Green felt a pang of sadness as he looked at the murdered boy, but that's just how cruel and heartless the world is these days. He was used to it, after all, he had been with the mercenary group for several years.

Mercenaries in peacetime are nothing but bandits!

Even Gambino's mercenary group is no exception!

As dawn broke, the sun rose as usual, and the villagers were busy putting out the fire and assessing the damage.