The Sequel to the Romance Fantasy Was a Zombie Apocalypse – Chapter 4

House Herta.

Founded by the founding nobility who participated in the establishment of the Kingdom of Arkeisia 400 years ago, it is a loyal family that has served the royal family ever since.

True to its illustrious history, the reputation of House Herta was so great that it spread beyond the royal capital to other nations across the continent.

Therefore, it goes without saying that anyone wishing to become a servant of House Herta must possess qualifications worthy of its name.

Among them, the butlers of Herta are only selected from those who have undergone rigorous training.

They must flawlessly perform typical butler duties like household chores and mansion management, and dutifully serve their employers, but the most crucial factor in the family’s evaluation is their martial prowess.

Here, martial prowess doesn’t simply mean being strong. Mastery in fundamental combat techniques such as swordsmanship and martial arts, as well as skills in mercenary work, cavalry tactics, and magical studies are the basic qualities required of a butler of House Herta.

After enduring harsh training during a six-month apprenticeship, they continue to learn and train for years while performing their duties as butlers, often facing real combat, continuously growing along the way.

Only when they are recognized for fulfilling their role as a butler are they granted this hilt by a member of the House of Herta, officially becoming part of Herta.

“O Flame of Herta, take the form of a sword and smite the enemies of the house!”

As I chant the incantation, infusing my mana into the Spinel embedded in the hilt—

Fwoosh.

From the hilt, flames of a deep hue surge forth, taking shape in the form of a sword blade.

The secret heritage of House Herta is flame.

According to legend, after the founder of the family hunted a salamander and consumed its heart, the flames they wield became imbued with an otherworldly power.

These flames don’t extinguish even when doused with water; if the wind blows, they roar into an even greater blaze.

They burn and burn until there’s nothing left to incinerate.

This unique flame is said to respond sensitively to mana, allowing it to be shaped like clay, transformed into any form the wielder desires.

However, only those born with the blood of Herta can wield this extraordinary flame.

And those of House Herta grant this power only to those they’ve sworn an oath with.

The ones who wield the flames of Herta as swords are the butlers of House Herta.

I aim the flaming sword, billowing with flames, at the approaching horde of corpses.

-Gwaaargh!

The zombies have now come close—right in front of me.

But as long as I wield this sword, what is there to fear?

I merely need to calmly plunge the blackened blade into their heads.

-Kaaaargh!

From the center of the zombie’s forehead where the blade strikes, crimson flames erupt, promptly incinerating its entire head.

The zombie leaves behind nothing but a brief final groan and falls lifelessly to the ground amidst the flames consuming its head.

Thus, the battle to purify the undead by fire has begun.

I swing the black-blazed sword, ensuring that the zombies cannot reach Esmela, maintaining a safe distance where the blade won’t touch her.

Sideways, vertically, and occasionally thrusting… every strike targets only the zombies’ heads.

Fwoosh!

Before the zombies can even get a word out, the black flames consume their heads, leaving them to vanish without a single scream.

While lost in a trance of slicing through the zombies, counting how many I’ve taken down…

“Where are you looking?! Over here!”

I don’t forget to shout and draw the zombies’ attention toward me, ensuring they don’t target Esmela.

As the grunts from the encircling zombies begin to diminish…

Thump.

With the final blow, I drive the sword into the last zombie’s head, silencing it completely.

Looking around, the charred remnants of zombies lie scattered about.

I estimate around thirty of them.

The crimson flame, having burned the heads down to liquid, begins to seek out the corpses below like kindling.

After carefully checking for any possible survivors, I retract my mana flowing into the sword.

“Haah…”

‘It seems I’m still a bit low on mana.’

Wielding the Flame of Herta requires several times more mana than using regular flame magic.

During my training as a butler in House Herta, I’ve focused on intensive practice to compensate for my relatively insufficient mana amount, but it seems I’ll need to put in even more effort.

Sliding the hilt into my arms, I approach Esmela.

“Young Lady, are you alright?”

I ensured not a single zombie approached her, but just to be safe, I check on her well-being.

“Yeah…”

Esmela replies, still dazed.

Fortunately, it seems she’s managed to escape panic, but she appears to be struggling to grasp the situation.

“Let’s move now. Normally, we would escape from here quickly by carriage, but…”

I glance at the wreckage of the shattered carriage.

“It seems we need to run instead.”

“Understood.”

Esmela nods as she places her hand on her forehead.

“Really, what on earth is happening here…”

“Young Lady.”

“What?”

“I must ask again; I will lift you and move.”

“What?”

She frowns and glares at me.

“I definitely warned you not to do that again. What about my dignity?”

Of course, the act of an noble lady being carried by her butler wouldn’t look good to others…

“Plus, I don’t have no legs. I can walk just fine! Don’t tell me you’re trying to take advantage of this opportunity to pull something shady…”

Esmela continues to babble on, but I don’t hear her anymore.

I fix my gaze on her seriously.

“Young Lady.”

“What, what is it? Why are you suddenly looking at me like that?”

“I promise on my honor to tell you: now is not the time to worry about dignity.”

I speak seriously to her.

“We need to escape this place as soon as possible. However, in those shoes you’re wearing, you won’t run properly. So I will carry you.”

I glance down at her sparkling red shoes.

“… Is it really that serious?”

Esmela seems to sense my sincerity and asks seriously.

“Yes. If my thoughts are correct, the entire royal capital is in crisis.”

Upon hearing my answer, Esmela narrows her eyes.

“That sounds as if you know something about this situation.”

I hesitate briefly before answering.

But if it means convincing her, I have no choice.

With that resolve, I look back at Esmela.

“Yes. I know what those things are.”

Esmela’s eyes widen in surprise, but I continue without paying her any mind.

“However, there isn’t enough time to explain that now. While we move, I promise to share everything I know with you, Esmela. So please…”

Please, Esmela. I’m begging you…

“This time, trust me and follow me.”

Having said my piece, I wait, hoping my sincerity has reached her.

“… I can’t easily accept either this situation or your words.”

Esmela gazes into my eyes. Her crimson irises hold a spark of trust towards me.

“Alright. This time, I’ll follow your suggestion.”

“Thank you.”

I gently bow my head and, without hesitation, approach Esmela to lift her by her legs with my left arm and support her back with my right.

This time she doesn’t resist, making it easier to hold her.

“I’m setting off now. Hold on tight.”

I direct the mana extracted from my mana heart down toward my legs.

“Haste.”

As the acceleration magic completes, I dash with all my strength toward the mansion along the northern main road.

“Yikes!”

As I suddenly speed up, Esmela gasps and clings tightly around my neck.

… Sorry about that! It looks like I’ve developed a bit of a crush as well.

With Esmela in my arms, I start sprinting through the deserted streets of the royal capital, leaving behind the Firke Plaza.

The sound of the wind rushes past, and her hands wrapped around my neck bring warmth to me.

“But you know, this is kind of funny when I think about it.”

Esmela shouts as she tries to drown out the sound of the wind.

Her curly blonde hair flutters wildly in the breeze.

Even after witnessing the horror just moments ago, she somehow looks joyful in my embrace.

“What do you mean?”

I raise my voice to match hers.

“That thing you just said, about betting your honor.”

“Was there something wrong with it?”

“How does a commoner have honor?”

“…”

Commoners have it rough, don’t they?

“Hahaha!”

Esmela bursts into laughter, still unable to believe her ears.

As I prepare to shoot back a remark to this ex-villain noble lady, raised in a feudal society of class struggles, but having lived as a democratic citizen in the modern state…

“Heh. For a joke, that was quite funny.”

“…”

Watching Esmela, warmly beaming in my arms, I find that I don’t really mind anymore.

‘Yeah, if this makes her smile, then it’s all worth it.’

What wouldn’t I do for my favorite smile, and what words wouldn’t I be willing to swallow?