Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: The Steel Tiger
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[Chapter 51 - Subordinate]
“Uh...”
“That thing’s fucking huge...”
“It’s a knight!”
The gang members backed away unsteadily, like wild dogs facing a lion, every time Arsen took a step forward.
Among them, the relatively tall man called the squad leader cleared his throat and spoke up.
“I’ll ask, but did you happen to kill an ironclad bat out there? With the sword you’re carrying now?”
“I asked first.”
Cold sweat dripped down the squad leader’s face at Arsen’s words, but he still bellowed.
“We’re members of the Steel Tiger’s gang. You might’ve heard of him—he’s quite the...”
Arsen suddenly stepped forward and grabbed the squad leader’s right hand as he rambled on.
He squeezed once, and there was a sickening crack.
With a horrific howl, the squad leader clutched his broken hand and collapsed. Arsen turned to the two underlings still standing there, their legs trembling.
“Who’s ready to talk first? One of you spilling it should be enough anyway. Why’d Ironclad Bat suddenly come up? And what’s the deal with beating up my subordinate?”
Having seen what happened to their blustering squad leader, the two gang members didn’t hesitate to spill the truth.
On their way back from a rare hunt outside, they’d spotted an ironclad bat with a hole in its head. Their boss had taken a liking to whatever killed it and put out a bounty.
Then they’d chased down a guy at the market selling some unfamiliar item and roughed him up to find out where he got it.
*Ridiculous.*
Arsen never imagined a corpse he’d casually killed and tossed aside back then would cause this mess. He clicked his tongue inwardly and glared at the underlings.
There were already eyes watching from around, so killing and burying them was out. He’d have to deal with their knight boss directly.
*Didn’t want this starting so soon.*
“Fine. One of you go fetch your boss. Tell him a fellow knight wants to talk.”
“Uh... one of us already went to report. He’ll be here soon.”
“Perfect.”
Arsen turned away with a sigh. Rino, somewhat recovered, pulled himself up and spoke.
“B-Boss... Steel Tiger’s a pretty well-known knight. Rumor has it he loves fighting—goes out hunting magic beasts all the time. He’s even killed other knights.”
“Strong?”
“I couldn’t say, but probably, right?”
His busted mouth garbled his words, but Arsen got the gist.
Arsen patted Rino’s back.
“Get yourself ready first. Let’s head inside.”
Once inside with Rino, Arsen immediately started suiting up in his armor.
With the enemy knight supposedly skilled and likely bringing his own men, going in unarmed wasn’t an option.
“Ellie, mind healing him?”
“Got it.”
Eloise, touched by Rino’s loyalty earlier, cast her healing spell with extra care.
After a burst of light, Rino looked mostly fine and bowed deeply.
“Thank you, miss!”
Eloise just shook her head lightly without replying. Arsen smirked at that, then headed back outside.
The gang members flinched at the sight of Arsen now clad in dark blue metal armor.
“While we wait, tell me what your boss is like.”
He hadn’t been prying info from them long when someone came running from afar.
“Outta the way, move it, you idiots!”
The ringleader had arrived.
* * *
The man rode in on a massive tiger-shaped mount beast. He was a knight.
Mid-to-late twenties, maybe. His full-body armor, processed from magic beast bones and hides, made him look more like a bandit chief than a knight.
Steel Tiger—real name Bazkal. A rags-to-riches story: hunter turned knight upon awakening.
Obsessed with getting stronger, he collected weapons and hunted magic beasts relentlessly to hone himself.
Said to be bold and honest, but that was his underlings’ opinion—take it with a grain of salt.
Recalling the info he’d gotten from yelling at the gang members earlier, Arsen stood.
“What’re you lot doing here... A knight, huh.”
Bazkal looked down at Arsen from his mount.
“Found you quick. You the one who killed that ironclad bat?”
“And if I am?”
“Came for that sword.”
His brazen attitude—like picking up something left in his care—drew a hollow laugh from Arsen.
“Anyone’d think it was yours to begin with.”
“I’m being polite. You’re from outside, so you wouldn’t know, but around here, the courtesy is stabbing ’em in the back first, then talking business.”
“So you sent your goons to beat up my subordinate out of nowhere?”
Bazkal looked baffled at Arsen’s words, turning to his men.
“Hey, what’s he on about?”
“Well... we asked where he got that item you mentioned earlier, and he spouted nonsense, so we roughed him up a bit.”
“You idiots aren’t even thugs. I told you not to do that.”
Unexpectedly, Bazkal scolded his men, then dipped his head slightly toward Arsen.
“Sorry. Should’ve declared war first if we were gonna hit him. My fault for not keeping them in line. I’ll make it up to you later.”
“It’s not about declaring or not?”
Arsen countered, and Bazkal nodded seriously.
“Of course! Attacking without warning’s a cowardly ambush, but after declaring, it’s proper combat. Any knight worth his salt knows the difference, right?”
It made no sense by Arsen’s standards. He glanced around—Bazkal’s own men looked just as confused.
Confirming the guy was the weirdo here eased Arsen’s mind. He pressed on.
“So, why’s a guy who knows better than to hit people unprovoked coming to take my weapon?”
“Weapons belong with those who can prove their worth. Not saying I’ll just snatch it—let’s duel. My gang, armor, weapons, everything on the line. It’s a sword worth that much. What do you say?”
His cocky declaration evoked some old drama’s romantic thug—fictional, straight out of a painting.
Arsen pondered briefly, then nodded.
No way he’d back off politely anyway, and Arsen had other ideas.
Grinning confidently, Bazkal dismounted and drew his sword.
A crude thing, ground from magic beast bone.
Those lacked cutting power but were insanely durable.
“Come on, draw yours. Let’s go.”
Arsen silently drew his black star-iron longsword. Bazkal whistled at its sleek, straight elegance.
“Now that’s a beauty. Love it already.”
“Won’t love it so much when it grows from your head.”
“We’ll see. No need to whine—I’m coming, so don’t rush me. Steel Tiger Bazkal!”
“Arsen.”
After the pointless introductions, Bazkal charged.
Arsen stayed cautious, observing the aggressive approach.
Mana-wise, Arsen outclassed him by the pressure alone. But Rino said he was infamous for being belligerent, so his skill wouldn’t be average.
The moment Bazkal launched his first attack, Arsen had to retreat in surprise.
*What the?*
Downward slash, thrust, swing.
Dodging the three quick strikes, bewilderment crossed Arsen’s face—hidden by his helm, thankfully. Gaining confidence from Arsen’s retreats, Bazkal taunted with a laugh.
“Stop scurrying like a rat and come at me! Scared?”
Arsen carefully watched another swing, then clashed swords for the first time.
As expected—not ordinary beast bone—Bazkal’s bone sword met Arsen’s longsword without shattering.
Seizing the opening from the clash, Arsen kicked out with his left leg, slamming Bazkal’s side.
“Guhk!”
“...Your swings are practically child’s play?”
Hearing the taunt, Bazkal’s face flushed beet red as he tumbled.
“You bastard!”
Bazkal charged fiercely again, but Arsen felt no tension watching him.
The initial fluster came from disbelief: a famed brawler this unskilled?
He’d retreated at first, suspecting a trap exploiting feigned gaps.
But exposing his side like that? No feint, no act.
The guy was a total novice at knight duels.
*No, makes sense in this environment...*
Unlike common thought, wild beasts rarely fought peers to the death.
Sharp teeth and claws meant loser dies wounded, winner limps away pained.
If that held in Narvik, knights rarely fought post-awakening.
As gang leaders and ultimate weapons, a knight’s loss meant gang annihilation.
Bazkal’s peer fights probably numbered a handful.
With all knights enemies, no friendly spars either.
*Belluan’s knights were more impressive than I thought.*
“Raaah!”
Arsen fluidly parried Bazkal’s next swing, then smashed his face with the sword’s pommel.
Dazed and staggering, Bazkal roared to rally and charged, but his wild swings missed.
Arsen slipped into the gap mid-swing, flat-slapping Bazkal’s face with the blade.
Edged, it would’ve split his head.
*Can’t even judge distance...*
Practice made imperfect without combat basics.
Arsen had thousands of spars and real fights honing knight-vs-knight tactics.
Bazkal lacked even fundamentals: stance and breathing decent, but no grasp of spacing, entries, or post-clash moves.
Overpowered beasts or soldiers, sure—but that was it.
No sparring culture bred this disaster.
His hunter past explained the combat inexperience too.
Made Arsen curious what level the knight Bazkal killed was.
“Urk...”
Sixth kick sent Bazkal sprawling with a groan.
No fool, he felt the gap. Arsen sparing him repeatedly too.
Growling like he’d charge again, Bazkal soon deflated.
“...I lose.”
“Congratulations, boss!”
Rino’s cheer rang from the watchers.
The one-sided romp left Arsen hollow despite the win. He asked flatly.
“Didn’t think I’d ask, but... are all Narvik knights around your level?”
“Weaker ones, stronger ones maybe... Most haven’t fought much, so who knows. The last guy was a dud. Damn it.”
Arsen briefly fantasized conquering Narvik knight-by-knight via duels but shelved it.
Not all would duel fair—ambushes, poison, gangs overwhelming him sans base.
Arsen lacked shady fight experience or confidence.
“So, what now?”
Bazkal gave a wry smile and shook his head.
“Loser leaves. Thanks for the mercy. You showed me what I need—time to train. Per our bet, gang and assets are yours.”
“Boss.”
Underlings gathered; Bazkal barked.
“Back off, you lot! I ain’t boss anymore!”
“About that—I wanna talk.”
Arsen approached; they parted warily.
Walking, Arsen mulled Bazkal’s character so far.
Morals iffy, but his honor code seemed straight, and he accepted defeat gracefully—no backstabber vibes.
Enemy till now, but Arsen couldn’t afford pickiness.
Hence sparing him unharmed.
Bruised his pride plenty, though.
Arsen’s question twisted Bazkal’s face oddly.
“Wanna stick around as my subordinate for a while?”