The smell of dinner slowly spread throughout the camp as the cooks finished preparing the evening meal.
I set up my tent near the edge of the camp. As a solo mercenary, it was better not to stay too close to large groups.
After securing the tent, I groomed Rusty and applied ointment to the small scratches and bite marks covering his body. Thankfully, none of them were serious.
When dinner was announced, everyone gathered quietly.
They served thick soup filled with chunks of meat. I guessed it was made light so everyone could digest it easily after such an exhausting battle.
Just yesterday, the entire camp had felt like a festival.
People laughed.
Drank.
Boasted about tomorrow's battle.
Now...
The atmosphere couldn't have been more different.
Some men's hands still trembled uncontrollably.
Others dragged their exhausted bodies toward their tents.
Some simply sat outside, staring silently at the night sky.
I didn't know who was worse off.
The ones lying dead on the battlefield...
Or the ones who had survived.
My stomach tightened at the thought.
But there was nothing I could do.
I quietly finished my meal and returned to my tent.
Although I had slept earlier in the afternoon, sleep refused to come.
After lying there for several minutes, I finally gave up.
Holding my sword at my side, I stepped outside and wandered through the camp.
The moon shone brightly overhead.
Mercenary Office patrols moved between the tents, keeping watch through the night.
I walked aimlessly until I spotted Azpen walking alone.
Our eyes met.
I immediately lowered my head.
He changed direction and walked toward me.
For a moment, I considered stepping back, but that would only seem disrespectful.
So I remained where I was.
His footsteps stopped in front of me.
A large hand landed on my shoulder.
"Kid."
"What are you doing out here?"
"Planning to kill someone?"
I shook my head.
"No."
"I just can't sleep."
He chuckled.
"Your first large-scale battle?"
"Yes."
He studied me for a moment.
"You're young."
"What pushed you into becoming a mercenary?"
I answered with the lie I had prepared long ago.
"My parents died."
"I needed to survive."
"The only things that can protect you in this world are power and money."
"And being a mercenary is one way to earn both."
Azpen laughed softly.
"You're good with words."
Then his expression became serious.
"So..."
"How many times have you faced death?"
I almost laughed.
He didn't know.
Not even close.
I looked him straight in the eyes.
"More than once."
"Ever since I came north..."
"I've seen death far too many times."
He stared at me for several seconds before nodding.
"Good."
"I can see it in your eyes."
After a short silence, he asked,
"So..."
"Are you a swordsman?"
"Not exactly."
"I use a bow, a spear, and a sword."
"I learned whatever helped me stay alive."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Don't you think it's better to master one weapon instead of spreading yourself too thin?"
I shook my head.
"Maybe."
"But I don't know what tomorrow will demand."
"I don't want to depend on anyone else."
"If I can fight with whatever is in my hands..."
"I'll have a better chance of surviving."
Azpen remained silent for a moment.
He seemed impressed.
We continued walking around the camp together.
After a while, I finally asked the question that had been on my mind.
"Sir..."
"How did you become an Aura Knight?"
He smiled faintly.
"The basics."
"Most people chase flashy techniques."
"They spend years searching for secret schools and legendary sword styles."
"They forget the foundation."
"A swing."
"A slash."
"A stab."
"Everything else is built on those three."
"A strong building doesn't stand because of its roof."
"It stands because of its foundation."
"The same is true for swordsmanship."
His answer was much simpler than I had expected.
Yet somehow...
It made perfect sense.
By the time we returned, we had reached my tent.
Azpen noticed Rusty lying nearby.
He stared for a moment before letting out a small laugh.
"That beast looks more like a demon than a mount."
"You really ride that thing?"
"Yes."
He nodded.
As he turned to leave, he stopped.
Without looking back, he spoke.
"Kid..."
"Get some sleep."
"Tomorrow morning we'll be moving again."
"I hope..."
"I'll see you alive tomorrow night."
"If that happens..."
"I'll ask your name."
With those words, he walked back toward his own tent.
I stood there for a long time, watching his back disappear into the darkness.