A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

”Forget it, my lord. You might as well just kill me.”

The long-haired man was scared out of his wits and dropped to his knees. Suddenly, the blade that had been at his throat just moments ago felt much kinder.

”The people in the barn, aren’t you going to come out and show yourselves?” Eric shouted toward the barn.

The moment Eric finished speaking, the dozen or so Archers behind him immediately dismounted, their bows aimed at the barn.

A moment later, the barn door was pushed open. Something flew toward Eric. He instinctively batted it aside with the flat of his Sword, and the object rolled to the girl’s feet.

It was a human head.

But the girl was unfazed. She kicked the head aside. She recognized it as belonging to the tall, thin man who had been in the barn earlier.

A thick, metallic stench of blood filled the air.

A swarthy, muscular man walked out. His face was pale and he seemed weak. His Longsword was stained with blood, as was his face. He had clearly just survived a vicious fight.

His gaze swept over the group of Knights outside the barn, then settled on Eric—a sword-wielding Cultivator—before finally landing on the girl, and the long-haired man kneeling on the ground, begging Eric for mercy.

He walked slowly toward Eric.

The Archers at the side were about to aim their Arrows at him, but the girl recognized him and shouted to Eric, ”Priest, he’s a good man!”

Eric sensed no hostility from him.

As he approached Eric, blood dripped continuously from his body, staining the ground red.

He staggered before Eric, planted his Sword in the ground, and knelt.

”Priest... c-can you hear my confession? I... I’m d-dying.”

”Of course,” Eric nodded, placing a hand on the man’s head.

”My name is Alan De Raine. My father was a Baron in Mann, and my mother was a noble lady from the Brittany Raine Region. They were never married. I was born out of wedlock, which earned me the displeasure of my father’s wife. But my father ignored her objections and stubbornly brought me home to Mann to raise me.

My older brother always looked down on me. He believed I had destroyed his family. He tried to ostracize me, throwing away my food and falsely accusing me of theft. Although my father was good to me, he eventually lost his trust in me as well.

When I was eight, I was sent as a Hostage to a Lord in the Bayeux Region of Normandy. But my father soon broke his treaty with Normandy. In less than a month, I was abandoned.

According to the agreement, I should have been executed. But that Lord pleaded for my life before the Duke and sought to take me as his adopted son. When I was sixteen, he knighted me and gave me twelve Hydes of land. At sixteen, I was filled with resentment. I hated my birth, and I hated my father.

From then on, I served Normandy. When I was twenty, the Duke launched his conquest of Mann, and I joined without hesitation. I wanted revenge on that land, revenge on my brother, and revenge on my father.

Finally, I met my father in battle. The disparity in our forces was too great, and I was captured. But my father recognized me and took me back. He put on a show of trying to make amends, but I hid my anger and hatred.

I devised a plan to murder my older brother and frame someone else for it. I stole his fiancée, deceived my father into trusting me, and inherited the Baron’s Domain. I joined forces with my adoptive father to help the Duke conquer all of Mann. I had my stepmother sent to the stake, accused of being a witch.

I abandoned everything: my vows, my honor, my integrity. I gained everything, and I should have been ecstatic. But my father was heartbroken by my brother’s death. He suffered a disastrous defeat on the battlefield because of my betrayal and received a severe head injury, leaving him delirious day after day.

My brother’s tombstone, the presence of my wife, my delirious father—they were all constant reminders of my sins. On my wedding night, I set out on the road to Santiago. I served His Majesty Alfonso of the Leon Kingdom as a Holy Warrior, fighting Heretics in the name of God, trying to find solace.

But the killing only brought me more pain. I tried to convince myself I was pleasing God, but the brutal scenes before my eyes left me with no defense for my actions. A Knight should protect the weak, yet here I was, preying on them...

Eventually, I left Leon and began to wander. I forgot my Identity as a Knight, my Identity as Nobility, and the vows I made before a Priest on the day I was knighted...

I am not a good son, nor a good husband. I am not even a good Knight. I broke the promises I made. I embraced greed, slaughter... Hahaha...

I drifted endlessly, only to end up back here... Priest, I am guilty... My sins are unforgivable.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be asking for forgiveness. I should be asking for a curse. May God... may God curse my soul...”

He bowed his head to Eric, then raised his Sword, holding it out to him.

”Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light. Since you can now distinguish between light and darkness, this is the beginning of your salvation.

Your choice to try and save this girl means you were following the path in your heart.

Now, the path in your heart has drawn near to the truth. As Christ said, that is the gospel of salvation.”

”Thank you... thank you, unknown Priest.”

Hearing Eric’s words, he seemed to find some measure of peace.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He had a severe wound on his back.

”Priest, may I ask one thing of you? Help me bring this Sword back to my home, Fougeres Castle. T-tell my wife, and my father... that her husband, his son, has gone... gone to atone for his sins...”

As his voice faded, his head slumped forward.

His breathing had stopped.

”He was a good man,” the girl said again, staring at him blankly.

As if wanting to emphasize the point.

But then she added, ”Probably.”

Eric said nothing. He took the Sword from the dead man’s hands and examined it.

The blood-stained blade was pitted and dull-looking, but the hilt was exquisitely carved with intricate patterns. Perhaps it had once been a fine Sword.

Eric tried to believe it.

The girl looked at Eric. ”He’ll go to Heaven, right, Priest?”

”Probably.”

”But I don’t think I saw an Angel,” the girl said, clutching her head.

”People can’t see Angels.”

”But I saw one the day before yesterday. Right next to my father.”

”You were just delirious from hunger.”

”Maybe. So, can you help me move my father into the grave? At least bury him.”

She looked up at Eric, and he noticed how pale gray her eyes were.

Like the flint in the barn walls, yet they sparkled. Like a hazy sky about to turn blue.

The dead man’s hands dropped as well, leaving him simply kneeling.

At that moment, the rain stopped.