What Norbek wanted was nothing but Lucian's life.
But as the Commander-in-Chief, Lucian was protected layer upon layer by escort troops.
Even if one suffered a crushing defeat in battle, wasn't it usually the Commander-in-Chief who managed to escape with his life?
Even if they tried to draw him into a chaotic melee, it was doubtful whether anyone could even reach a distance where blades could strike.
"And even after reaching him, that's another problem. Unless his personal martial strength were pitiful—which it isn't—he's the one who crushed Harald head-on, isn't he?"
He hadn't relied on cunning schemes, nor had he compensated for lacking strength with technique.
In a contest of pure power, he had knocked the axe away and displayed overwhelming might.
A middling knight wouldn't be worrying about taking his head—he'd be worrying about his own head being taken.
And yet, the man who had been in such an impossibly hard-to-kill position declared that he would come out of his own accord.
It was enough to make Norbek—already half-mad with hatred—see red.
"But if it comes to this, aren't we just dancing to the enemy's tune?"
No one knew which knight would come out as the first opponent, but it certainly wouldn't be an easy match.
If the House of Count Calyx were to suffer consecutive defeats, the worst-case scenario might unfold.
"My lord."
"Will you go?"
The moment Palmyr opened his mouth to dissuade Norbek, Norbek's eyes flashed coldly.
It was clear that if Palmyr said anything other than talk of a duel, he intended to throw Palmyr out first.
After hesitating for a long while, Palmyr swallowed the sigh that had risen to his throat and spoke.
"…I will send Sir Dain."
"So be it."
Norbek seemed to have no intention of saying anything further and did not open his mouth again.
Just as he had said earlier, his attitude was that it didn't matter how many were sacrificed, as long as Lucian was dragged out.
Watching him, Palmyr swallowed his bitterness and turned away.
He felt nothing but pity for his comrades who would be thrown away as expendable pieces, rather than dying as knights.
Bwooo—
A short while later, the horn signaling the start of the duel echoed across Raven Hill.
At the same time, a single knight stepped forward from Lucian's side.
Clad in pure white full-body armor, it was a knight whose face couldn't even be seen.
Moments later, the knight designated as the opponent from the Calyx side—Dain—also came forward.
"I am Dain Volkov, who serves the House of Count Calyx! Who are you!?"
"Hmph."
A mocking laugh came from inside the helmet, whose interior was impossible to see.
The voice sounded youthful, but because it echoed from within the armor, it was difficult to tell the speaker's exact age.
"Do the rabble of traitors dare to play at being knights? Stop the pointless nonsense and stick out your neck."
Dain glared at the knight in white armor, his face flushed a deep red.
He wouldn't deny that the cause of this war lay with the Calyx side.
But was it not excessive to heap insults on a knight's personal honor together with the sins of the house he served?
He was merely fulfilling his duty to the lord to whom he had sworn loyalty as a knight—yet to be treated like a bandit?
"Let's see whether your swordsmanship is as sharp as that tongue of yours!"
Drawing his sword, Dain charged at the knight in white.
The armor might be impressive, but if the wielder's skill with the blade was lacking, it was nothing more than a hard ornament.
Knock away the opponent's sword, then thrust into the gaps between the armor plates—that would be the end of it.
'I'll overwhelm him with momentum first!'
He was just about to bring down the opening strike with crushing force, one the opponent couldn't evade—
Slice.
At the same moment the white knight drew his sword, a sound like reeds being brushed by the wind rang out.
Blinking in confusion at the strange noise, Dain's field of vision suddenly tilted sideways.
With the final thought of why, Dain Volkov met his death.
Thud. Splat.
His head hit the muddy ground first, followed by his body collapsing and splashing filth everywhere.
Though no blood stained his blade, the knight in white flicked it as if shaking off something foul.
As everyone stood stunned, unable to grasp what had just happened, the knight in white spoke.
"Next."
***
"… "
Both armies stood there with their mouths hanging open at the shocking sight.
Dain might not have been an extraordinary knight, but he was undeniably a seasoned one with countless battles under his belt.
And yet—to have his head taken without even a single clash of blades.
'He didn't aim for the joint between the helmet and the breastplate. Even with the armor in the way, he cut through it like paper.'
Seeing the fragment of armor that had fallen together with Dain's severed head, Palmyr swallowed dryly.
It was true that knights reinforced their bodies to wield superhuman strength.
But a strengthened body might allow one to swing a sword faster and more cleanly—it didn't increase the blade's cutting power itself.
And yet, the opponent hadn't merely reinforced his body; he had raised the sword's cutting power itself to an absurd degree.
'Has he reached the realm of materializing mana and wrapping it around the blade?'
It didn't end with increased sharpness alone.
At the point where one could freely manipulate materialized mana in the midst of battle, the precision of movement rose to an entirely different dimension.
Unless an equal were sent out, whoever came next would be swept away like a straw dummy being cut down.
"My lord."
"Send out the next opponent."
"My lord!"
"It doesn't matter how many die. I believe I said that."
"… "
"No matter how strong he is, he's still just one man. If necessary, use poison—use anything. We've already come too far. You know as well as I do that there's no turning back now. So don't cling to notions like honor."
With sunken eyes, Palmyr looked up at the sky.
The hiring of a mage had already been exposed, and the heir, Godfrey, had long since become a corpse.
The annihilation of House Calyx was practically decided ages ago.
And yet he had come here, seeking a place to die, just to uphold his oath as a knight.
'Have I lived all this time for a death like this?'
Deep regret weighed heavily on Palmyr's chest.
Even if he stayed with a lord who had fallen this far, there would be no good end to it.
"This time, I will step forward."
"I leave it to you. I will not forget that sacrifice."
At his lord's flat, emotionless voice, Palmyr merely nodded calmly.
There was no need to pour heart and soul into a hollow courtesy devoid of sincerity.
As Palmyr quietly drew his sword, the knight in white asked,
"Won't you give your name?"
"It would be meaningless."
"…I see."
Sensing Palmyr's despair, the knight in white raised his sword.
"I will not show mercy. Whatever the outcome, he was the lord you chose with your own will."
"I have no rebuttal to that."
With a bitter smile, Palmyr swung his sword.
Even in a state of utter resignation, his body moved on its own toward the optimal path.
Perhaps because he had cast aside all stray thoughts, the trajectory was so perfect it couldn't be compared to the days when he had burned with competitive spirit.
At the moment he realized he had crossed a certain threshold, his opponent's blade flashed.
In that fleeting instant, Palmyr saw the path of the incoming sword and felt admiration.
'Beautiful…'
That thought was his last, as Palmyr's head flew into the air.
***
Splatter.
"Hm."
Another head was driven into the mire.
For the first time, the knight in white—who had been piling up corpses without pause—let out a faint murmur.
So many bodies had accumulated that there was scarcely any solid footing left.
They were not people worthy of pity, but even so, trampling corpses indiscriminately was not particularly appealing.
"It seems we'll need to change locations a bit."
"… "
"Should I come over there? Or will the next opponent be coming here?"
Norbek's clenched fist trembled violently.
On the hill piled high with the corpses of knights, the knight in white showed not the slightest sign of fatigue.
Considering how much mana he must have expended on reinforcing his body through all those duels, how could a human possibly be like this?
"…Who are you?"
The gaze that had been fixed on Lucian all this time turned fully toward the knight in white for the first time.
The knight in white answered Norbek's question calmly.
"You don't need to know."
"No—you do need to tell me! I can't stand watching that whelp get cocky by dragging in some outsider who isn't even his vassal!"
"An outsider?"
"Aizen Brightner! Aren't you ashamed, calling yourself a Sword Saint!? To lend your strength to that brat just because he's your lord's son!"
"Hah."
If he weren't a Sword Saint, such achievements would be impossible.
As Norbek jumped to that conclusion, the knight in white let out a scoffing laugh.
Then, without hesitation, the knight reached up to her helmet.
When it was removed, loose hair spilled down to her shoulders.
"A Sword Saint? What kind of misunderstanding is that? I'm not my father."
"My name is Felicia Brightner. I am a knight who serves His Grace the Duke. I'm fighting for my own lord—so I fail to see what the problem is."
Norbek bit his lip.
At first, he had thought she was nothing more than an ignorant girl placed at his side as decoration.
Only after rumors about the Sword Saint spread did he learn that she was the Sword Saint's adopted daughter and personal disciple.
Even so, he hadn't been particularly wary.
No matter how much of a once-in-a-century genius she was, wasn't she still just a fledgling with little real combat experience?
He had assumed she would be kept in the safest place possible until she reached a certain level.
…So she was already skilled enough to slaughter ordinary knights without issue. Damn it!
All the seasoned knights had already had their heads taken by Felicia.
The three who remained would only become corpses the moment they were sent out.
At this point, drawing Lucian out had become practically impossible.
"How infuriating. House Calyx is annihilated, while that whelp reigns as the overlord of the North."
"It's all your own karma—what's so infuriating about it?"
"But if we take the Sword Saint's disciple with us, at least we'll get to see him beating the ground in regret."
Ignoring Felicia entirely, Norbek muttered to himself.
Then he raised one hand, and the soldiers standing before him simultaneously pulled something out from behind their thighs.
"Short bows?"
Felicia muttered as she looked at what the soldiers had drawn, slipping her helmet back on.
Because blizzards were so common, the North favored large bows with powerful draw strength.
Yet these weren't even ordinary bows, but short bows small enough to be bent and hidden at the waist.
This wasn't a unit meant to harass enemy forces—it was clearly one created specifically to stab people in the back at events like this.
"Honestly, right to the very end—"
"Fire!"
Before Felicia could even finish speaking, arrows were loosed all at once.
Not a single volley, but staggered fire in five successive waves.
Even if she had the strength to knock away an entire volley once, there was no way she could endure the relentless follow-up barrages.
As Norbek smiled, convinced of that—
Thud-thud-thud-thung.
The moment the arrows struck Felicia's armor, tiny sparks of light flickered—and the arrows lost their force and fell away.
They hadn't shattered from colliding with the armor.
They were repelled before even making contact, bounced away by a finely spread runic barrier.
Realizing that all five waves of staggered fire had been completely useless, Norbek cried out in shock.
"What the hell—what kind of armor is that…!?"
"I figured as much. You never disappoint."
Lucian's voice drilled into Norbek's ears.
When he looked up, Lucian—who had been standing back among the soldiers—was slowly approaching him.
The moment Norbek realized Lucian had entered short-bow range, his eyes went wide.
"What are you doing!? Shoot him! Kill him! Kill him, I said!"
"And do you have any arrows left?"
At Lucian's mocking words, Norbek clenched his teeth.
If they'd brought proper quivers it might have been different, but these were weapons secretly smuggled in to avoid drawing attention.
Naturally, there had only been room to cram in enough arrows for a single proper use.
"Enough! Drop the bows and take up your spears! All troops, prepare to charge!"
"… "
Despite the order, the soldiers hesitated and did not move.
At the sudden disobedience, Norbek's face twisted.
"What are you all doing!? Prepare to charge!"
"Shout all you want. No one's listening to you."
"What did you say?"
"You don't seriously expect morale to be intact after you used knights like disposable tools right in front of the soldiers, do you?"
The soldiers were already treated far worse than the knights to begin with.
After watching knights be handled so brutally before their eyes, it was only natural for them to think they'd be next.
At this point, there was no way they would faithfully obey an order telling them to go out and die.
"If there were still knights left, you might've forced the troops to obey somehow. But you ground them all down yourself. There's no one left now to shove the soldiers forward and cut them down as an example."
Strictly speaking, there were still about three knights remaining, but the number was meaningless.
Unless they were the officers of a unit directly under them, the other formations wouldn't budge anyway.
Without allied units supporting them from behind, even troops that began a charge would stop partway through.
"The short-bow unit was trained to move on your signals, so they probably obeyed reflexively. But the other units aren't like that. The moment you stripped the soldiers of their intermediate commanders and gave them time to think, it was over."
"You bastard…!"
"Thanks to you, Count, things turned out wonderfully for me. With this many people, they'll make excellent labor. Bring their families along too, and I can collect a fair amount of tax revenue."
Norbek froze in place.
Had Lucian deliberately tried to minimize soldier casualties—for the sake of population and taxes?
Had he used the duels to eliminate only the knights loyal to House Calyx?
"It's over, old man."
As if confirming Norbek's suspicions, Lucian curled his lips into a smile.
Driven mad by that expression, Norbek lunged straight at Lucian.
"I'll kill you—khk!?"
Thud.
Before he could even spit out all his curses, Lucian struck Norbek across the head with his scabbard.
Looking down at the head of House Calyx lying collapsed and powerless on the ground, Lucian gave an order.
"Bind him. We'll take him to Asagrim and execute him there."
READ MORE CHAPTERS HERE : https://beastnovels.com