Berserk: The Prophet

Gambino drew his sword to meet Alvino, who was taller and stronger than him and even better equipped, but he was not afraid at all.

“Remember this well, Gus.”

"Not only is it thick and heavy, but it also has no gaps. The person who wears this kind of armor must be a wealthy nobleman."

"So, for us mercenaries who make a living on the battlefield, there is only one thing to do."

Gambino clearly possessed a unique set of skills and expertise for dealing with these heavily armed tin cans.

...Bringing children to the battlefield? That's really laughable.

Alvino's battle shovel swung fiercely at Gambino, but Gambino sidestepped and used his sword to deflect the force. Taking advantage of the moment when the big Alvino lowered his body, he circled behind him, gripped the sword tightly with his left hand, and slammed his right hand, which was holding the hilt, down on the back of Alvino's neck.

But the sword tip dug deep into Alvino's arm armor, piercing through flesh!

Alvino groaned, a wave of dizziness washing over him. His aged body immediately lost its balance, and Gambino pinned him to the ground.

Gambino's hands, however, did not stop. His sharp hilt, like a can opener, pierced the viewing hole left on the helmet.

Blood, eyeballs, and the helmet were all torn off together.

Immediately afterwards, Gambino personally beheaded Alvino's valuable head.

"A sword is not only for slashing or stabbing; it is also the most suitable tool for dealing with nobles who wear armor."

"Remember this, and then use this trick to make money, for my sake."

Gambino, holding Alvino's head, watched with a mocking expression as blood dripped from his sword onto the scorched earth, leaving Guts bewildered.

"knew."

Although it was only his second time joining the battlefield, it was still a bit of a struggle for Guts. He had only survived this long thanks to Gambino, but he had still accumulated a lot of combat experience.

For these mercenaries who live on the edge, surviving two chaotic battles is enough to qualify them as veterans.

.........

The fortress had lost its leader, and few who dared to resist remained. Men with nowhere to escape were killed, and everywhere the sounds of panicked women and crying children filled the air...

Mercenaries know no national boundaries; they are a group of people who will use violence as long as the price is right!

As for the doctrines of the King's Palace, they are like waste paper in the face of money and survival. Even the church's tithe granaries have become valuable supplies for the mercenary group.

...This is a carnival for mercenaries.

However, the only good news for the dead was that the nun and the bishop had escaped to the outskirts of the city through a secret passage in the church.

When Alvino decided to spend the rest of his life here in peace, he was prepared for his enemies to come knocking on his door, which was also a way to leave a glimmer of hope for his only son.

The path that child will choose in the future... will be in his own hands...

--------

An unnamed mountain valley.

Several days have passed since I met the apostle.

Green and his group encountered a centurion who had come looking for them, along with about a hundred conscripts and ten elite soldiers, who seemed to have ill intentions.

Fortunately, the scouts discovered it in advance and reported it to Green, which avoided a lot of unnecessary trouble.

Since the number of people increased, things have become much more convenient, but the consumption of food supplies has been extremely high. His supplies in his space are almost gone, but fortunately he can go to the Barkley continent at night to replenish them.

The soldiers were used to it; the only thing that bothered Green was the weekly wage of over two thousand dinars.

He can't just sit around and live off his savings; his income isn't stable enough to support so many people for free.

"My lord, there is a very remote mountain village forty miles ahead, rarely visited by people. Perhaps we can rest there for a while." The Silver Mist Ranger returned on his white steed and reported the situation to Green.

These Silver Mist Rangers are excellent scouts, frequently traversing woodlands and hilly areas; they are outstanding forest rangers.

"Okay, let's stay there tonight."

Green made a decision in response. Always being stationed in the wild was not a good idea, and most importantly, they did not have a wagon to set up tents.

The continuous journey had left Green feeling like his backside was about to develop calluses from riding, but at least before dusk, Green and his men arrived here.

The soil was as hard as rock, barren and full of sand and gravel. The thin layer of soil seemed incapable of growing anything that could produce a stable harvest except for oats with their extensive root systems.

Compared to the villages we had passed through before, this place was far too poor, with hardly any houses at all.

At first glance, there are about twenty wooden houses scattered vertically, and a stone house that looks like a church. That's all there is to the village.

"...It really is barren."

Green muttered to himself, then swaggered toward the village with his men.

In late July, the oat harvest was nearing completion, and villagers were busy weeding and irrigating the fields. Thankfully, the truce with Midland had allowed the area to develop peacefully for two years.

The last farmer, who was bending over tending his field, straightened up and squinted. He was startled when he saw the fully armed Green and his group. Hadn't the lord just collected the shield tax?

Without thinking twice, he strode off and shouted the news to the villagers.

Green raised his hand to signal the group to stop. He dismounted, his boots crunching over the gravel. Villagers, gripping farm tools, peeked out from behind their wooden huts, their cloudy eyes filled with wariness. Several women quietly shielded their children behind them.

The priest in the church also took out the long staff symbolizing the King's Palace and held it in front of his chest.

A pair of sparrow-like brown-black eyes peered out from behind the mother at the soldiers who had stormed into the village and the child on horseback.

“We mean no harm.” Green rode his horse to the group of villagers.

“We are nobles passing through, and these men are my guards. We are borrowing this village to rest for a few days. We will purchase food and supplies at a high price.” He took out two silver coins and tossed them to the nearest old man. The crisp sound of metal hitting stone caused a stir among the crowd.

In order to prevent the village from being left with only the elderly and weak, the lord had just collected shield tax, which had emptied their savings. These two silver coins were enough for an ordinary family to pay taxes for a year.

The villagers looked at each other, and only put down their farm tools after confirming that Green and the others meant no harm.

That evening, Green sat opposite the village chief by the campfire.

The old man's cracked hands caressed the wooden bowl filled with bland oat porridge: "Sir, the village is poor. We only have oats and some wild fruits to eat all year round. It's not that we're being unhospitable, it's just that..."

"It's alright, we'll rest for a few days and find out the road conditions before leaving. We did get a bit lost in these almost identical mountainous areas." Green answered truthfully. He had never traveled this road before, and could only distinguish east from west in the morning and evening, but he couldn't quite tell north from south. Most importantly, he didn't know which way to go to be safe.

Moreover, Judas is also embroiled in internal strife, and being chased by both sides of the civil war as enemies is not an easy life for them.