Mercenary System: I can increase innate potential !

Chapter 61 Farewell (2/2)

The mercenaries in charge of the bodies came a few moments later to tend to Organ's body.

"So he's dead too.

"Yeah, I saw him in his last moments. He knew he couldn't do anything against two apprentice knights, one of whom was just a small success. So he pounced on one of them to kill him. The other took advantage and killed him."

"So there was one left?"

"Yeah, luckily Rodrigo, the guy standing next to the boss, took care of him with some method."

"A certain method? To kill an apprentice knight? What kind of method kills an apprentice knight? I'd like to know it too haha."

"He even killed two of them, but don't ask me what he used, it was too dark to see exactly what happened."

It wasn't just those two mercenaries. Everyone was talking in hushed tones about the events that had taken place.

Whether it was Ernest who had just started sword training but had managed to block 3 apprentice knights.

Or Andrew who had killed 2 apprentice knights at the cost of serious injury and then held the3rd apprentice knight until the leader arrived.

But also Killian, who not only survived the ambush with vigor, but also held the apprentice knight at the stage of great success who was leading the opposing attack.

The fierce arrival of Maxime and Laura had also shocked many of them.

As soon as they arrived, the whole battlefield had turned upside down and a few minutes later it was all over.

The night ended in a strange atmosphere.

The sky on the horizon gradually blazed with a golden glow, heralding the arrival of daylight.

The first glimmers of sunlight pierced through the trees, casting long, diffuse shadows over the clearing where the mercenaries and soldiers were gathering.

The air was cold, laden with the moisture of the morning dew, and silence reigned on this wasteland nestled in the heart of the forest, cutting off any link with the tumult of the previous day's battle.

In the center of the clearing, bodies had been lined up, prepared for a final tribute before joining the flames.

Some were wrapped in blankets or cloaks found on the battlefield; others, fallen with nothing to protect them, simply lay in the dust.

The faces of the dead were calm, frozen in an expression of eternal immobility. Their weapons had been carefully laid out beside them, a final mark of respect for these fallen men.

Mercenaries and soldiers, still marked by exhaustion, dragged the last of the corpses to the great wooden pyre that had been erected in the center of the clearing.

The movements were slow, imbued with an invisible weight of grief and duty.

The creak of boots in the damp earth and muffled murmurs accompanied this sad funeral ballet.

Maxime stood a few steps from the pyre, erect and silent.

His gaze wandered over the bodies of his fallen companions, those with whom he had shared wine and fire, those who would never laugh again in their lifetime.

The weight of this reality weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he knew he had to be strong for his men. They had survived, and it was up to him to honor the dead.

Ernest took his place beside Maxime after carefully laying a man's corpse.

Whether a soldier or a mercenary, no one cared.

They had fought side by side and everyone deserved the same respect.

"Ernest, you've improved very quickly with the sword."

"Thank you chief, I've taken your recommendations to heart."

The fire began to crackle gently, emerging from the dry branches that formed the base of the pyre.

The gentle but inexorable sunlight now bathed the entire clearing in a golden hue, slightly warming the cold morning air.

The men had gathered in a circle around the bodies and the pyre, their faces closed and solemn, awaiting their leader's words.

The soldiers, including Killian, Henry and Ultia, also looked at Maxime.

He had now become the central spiritual figure for all present.

After a while, he slowly raised a hand, drawing everyone's attention.

The murmurs died away, and silence fell like a veil over the clearing. He took a step forward, his long shadow cast by the rising sun behind him. He took one last look at the bodies, then at the men still standing around him, before speaking.

"They're gone," he began, his deep voice echoing in the cool morning air.

"Our brothers, our companions, those who fought alongside us. They left us yesterday, in chaos and blood, but today they rest in peace. This pyre, these flames... it's all we can offer them now."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the tired faces of his men.

"In particular, I'd like to highlight the courage of many of our men, starting with Organ."

"A former bandit who had come from nothing, who had navigated the dark waters of this world, to show abilities worthy of this world's greatest warriors."

...

Maxime continued, pointing out various glorious deeds of the deceased, which he had either seen from afar or heard.

"They gave their lives so that we could see this sunrise."

"And there is no greater honor than to fall alongside those we call brothers. We survived, yes, but that doesn't mean we're the lucky ones."

"They left as warriors. They lived and died with sword in hand, never bowing to fear or death."

Some mercenaries bowed their heads, others clutched their weapons, an instinctive gesture that reminded them of the fragility of their existence in this brutal world.

"Their names may never be engraved in stone," Maxima continued, her voice softer but no less powerful.

"But they will live on in us, in our memories, in every battle we fight in the future. We will carry their courage, their strength and their dreams. That's the only immortality that counts."

He took another step forward, his boots sinking into the soft earth. The fire was crackling louder now, the flames rising little by little, ready to devour the dry wood.

"Today, we let them go. We entrust them to the flames, but not to oblivion. Every sword stroke we give, every battle we win, will be with them in our hearts. And when it's our turn to fall... we hope to leave with the same peace as they did."

Maxime's speech left its mark on many people.

Killian, Henry and Ultia looked at him with complicated eyes, but they were also filled with respect.

The charisma exuded by this young man with blond hair was particularly striking.

He himself didn't know where his words came from, except from the depths of his heart and what he really thought.

Eternity wasn't just a game, these people were real to him, and he carried the responsibility for their future on his shoulders.

Silence settled again, dense and full of the weight of his words. Maxime looked at the faces of the men around him, and found the same determination, the same acceptance of what awaited them all one day.

Slowly, he nodded, a gesture heavy with meaning.

A soldier stepped forward, carrying a lighted torch.

He handed it to Maxime, who took it without a word.

He raised it high, facing the flames of the pyre, before lowering it gently to add it to the fires already lit.

As if gasoline had been on fire, the flames quickly engulfed the corpses, devouring the bodies of the deceased with a muffled roar, but it was not a sound of destruction.

It was a silent tribute, a way of giving back to the earth what it had given them.

The mercenaries and soldiers watched in silence, their faces lit by the growing flames, witnessing this final farewell.

The crackling of the fire, the song of the birds that were beginning to awaken with the day, and the murmur of the wind in the trees formed a strange concert.

And right now, in the heart of the forest, there was a strange peace, a harmony between life and death.

Maxime stepped back, joining his men. He had offered them words, but he knew it was silence that would allow them to say their own farewells.

They stood there, motionless, watching the flames consume the bodies of their brothers, until the sun had fully risen and the light of day chased away the shadows of the past night.