Chapter 41
Chapter 41
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: The Way of the World
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* * *
“As expected of Lord Dale!”
“His skill is unbelievable!”
“Everything they say about him was true!”
As Dale’s victory became imminent, the lords busied themselves with showering him in lip service.
‘Was it really this easy?’
Even Dale, who was feigning composure, couldn't hide his own bewilderment at the unexpectedly overwhelming win.
Even if he was a ‘young’ knight of just over twenty, he was still a man who wielded aura with all his might. Yet, when facing him, a strange sensation washed over Dale, as if the entire world had slowed down.
Everything except for himself.
That wasn't all.
‘The sword from the Shadow Cloak feels like a part of my body.’
It was as if invisible tentacles existed as extensions of his physique, controlling the shadow blades… It was then that he realized. The grimoire had taken root in his heart in the form of tentacles.
The essence of black magic fused with his body, *The Book of the Black Goat*.
A grimoire is a 'sorcerer's sword' that elevates a mage's level. In that respect, *The Book of the Black Goat* was truly one of the most wicked demonic swords in the world.
Therefore, when he rotated his circles to generate black mana, the grimoire rooted in his heart activated as 'another Source of Black,' creating a synergistic effect.
Furthermore, it used the highly concentrated black mana to strengthen his body and amplify the power of the dark artifact, the 'Shadow Cloak,' several times over. No, it was more than just several times. At Dale's current level, he could likely fight on equal footing with an Aura Knight or even someone stronger.
“Is this all you have?”
Despite his inner shock, Dale maintained his composure and looked down at Lord Yones, as if he had expected this outcome from the start.
As the eldest son of House Sachsen and the 'Black Prince,' he addressed the man who had dared to doubt his name and test him.
“Shadow Bullet.”
Dale snapped his fingers.
The dark blades orbiting Dale shattered in unison. The finely broken fragments of the shadow blades were crafted into the shape of bullets, and a malevolent hail of them rained down.
Toward Lord Yones, who was kneeling before Dale.
The barrage of 'Shadow Bullets' descended as if from the trigger of a heavy machine gun.
“...!”
A scream echoed out. But immediately after, the dark bullets fired at Lord Yones only served to shatter the area at his feet.
Leaving the utterly destroyed marble floor of the Sachsen castle behind, Dale turned his head.
It was a silent warning. At last, Lord Yones's composure crumbled. His legs trembled uncontrollably.
Seeing this, everyone realized. The swordsmanship the 'Black Prince' had just displayed was nothing more than a diversion.
Compared to his 'true power as a sorcerer'... the shadow sword was nothing.
A feeling that could not be fully described by words like shock or surprise enveloped the hall.
“...”
Awe.
Just as his father had done before him.
“Is there anyone else who wishes to challenge me?”
Before such a sight, no one dared to speak.
“Are there any left with the courage to doubt my name and prove themselves?”
Dale asked again. Only a lonely silence filled the hall.
*Clang!*
At the end of the silence, there was the sound of riveted steel plates clashing. It was the sound of kneeling.
The lords and knights, each clad in armor, plunged their swords vertically into the ground before the young heir of House Sachsen. It was an unquestionable pledge of knightly loyalty.
He was unconsciously reminded of his father, Lord Black's, favorite saying.
Fear guarantees loyalty.
And how true it was.
* * *
That night.
After the assembly of lords and the ceremony had concluded, a festival was held to pray for victory in the coming battle.
In addition to the social gathering for the noble families, the soldiers in the outer barracks were also provided with ale and meat.
However, Lord Yones, defeated by Dale, slipped out of the ducal castle alone and headed for the barracks where his mercenaries were quartered.
He recalled the faces of his father and brother, who would be cursing his reckless actions.
“Captain, you don't look so good.”
“...”
Ignoring his subordinate's worried words, Yones gulped down his drink.
“Fucking hell, this world is shit.”
Only after the alcohol began to take hold did his tongue loosen.
“I can swing my damn sword all I want, and I'll never even touch that bastard's toes. Do you think I'd look happy?”
“C-Captain...?”
“And get this, he's not even a knight, he's a goddamn sorcerer! Haha!”
Hearing him mutter to himself, one of his men asked cautiously.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“I'm saying I got my ass handed to me by an eleven-year-old brat, you dumb fuck!”
“A-Are you talking about the eldest son of House Sachsen?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, people say he's a once-in-a-generation genius with the greatest talent in the Empire...”
And they're damn right.
‘A person's station isn't decided at birth, but can be changed through effort.’
Who would dare spout such nonsense in front of the eldest son of House Sachsen? It wasn't just a bitter defeat. It was the despair of facing an insurmountable being, a feeling that constricted his heart.
An incarnation of absurdity, symbolizing the unfairness of this world itself.
The wall presented by the 'Black Prince's' existence was just that impossibly high.
“Shhiiiit, this booze tastes fucking great!”
And so, Lord Yones shouted as he drank and drank.
“Damn right! What's better in this world than a drink!”
“Let's drink up, Captain!”
He was sick of the empty formalities and unfitting noble decorum of the castle. Being with his men, where he could be himself, was Lord Yones's only solace.
“Damn, just thinking about it pisses me off again.”
Taking another swig, Lord Yones spoke.
“You should have seen the noble bitches fawning all over that eleven-year-old brat.”
“What were they like?”
“Hah, they were no different from back-alley whores!”
The way they desperately tried to curry favor with that little punk!
“Then he must be rolling around with some lady right now!”
“Might be more than one!”
“As expected of a duke's son, he goes all out!”
“Hey, you think an eleven-year-old has even got hair down there?”
“He does.”
“Ah, really?”
Lord Yones nodded absently at the reply, oblivious to the sudden silence that fell around them.
“What's with you guys? Why'd you go quiet?”
“C-C-Captain...”
One of his men stammered, his face pale.
“Is that... that boy who just came in... the one you were talking about...?”
There was no way the mercenaries here would recognize 'Dale of Sachsen'.
But from the splendid clothes embroidered with the Night Raven crest of House Sachsen and the black surcoat… and furthermore, realizing the wearer was a boy of about eleven, it wasn't hard to guess his identity.
“What, that brat showed up here?”
Lord Yones, thoroughly drunk, turned his head without a care.
“I did.”
And the 'brat' in question answered.
“...”
His 'Shadow Cloak,' masquerading as a black surcoat, fluttered.
Silence descended like a feather.
“...”
“...”
It was an incredibly awkward silence. After a moment, Dale sat down next to Lord Yones.
“...Take this.”
He handed him a bottle of wine he had brought from the ducal castle.
“The world is a curse, isn't it?”
“N-No, it is not.”
With a trembling hand, Lord Yones accepted the wine from Dale.
“That's just how the world is.”
Watching him, Dale continued, speaking as if to a junior far behind him on the path of life.
“Unfair, absurd, and there's not a single thing you can decide with your own two hands.”
He said it nonchalantly, as if it were someone else's story.
“Innate talent, your environment, the blood in your veins, your family...”
Dale asked.
“Of all the factors that decide our fate, is there a single one we can choose for ourselves?”
“N-No.”
Lord Yones shook his head.
“And yet, do you still believe you can carve out your own destiny?”
“...”
Dale asked again. For a moment, Lord Yones was about to nod yes.
Until today, before he met the 'Black Prince' standing before him.
“So don't blame yourself too much.”
“...”
“Because in this world, there is no destiny we can change with our own hands.”
And to hear those words from the very person who embodied that truth… it was so absurd he could only laugh.
And after he laughed, the sorrow finally burst forth.
* * *
At first, he thought it was a nightmare. Or perhaps he was just so drunk he was seeing things.
‘Lord Dale is looking for you.’
At least, that's what he wanted to believe until the next morning, when the Night Raven Knights of House Sachsen came for him personally.
A room in the Sachsen ducal castle.
“Do you remember what happened last night?”
“L-Lord Dale...”
At Dale's usual politeness, speaking in formal tones, Lord Yones quietly swallowed.
‘Was it a dream after all?’
“You were so drunk, you said you'd start calling me 'big brother'.”
“...N-No way.”
“We had quite a meaningful conversation all through the night.”
Only after hearing his own life story spill from Dale's lips did he become certain that last night was not a dream.
“Lord Yones, second son of the baronial House Kennet.”
Last night's duel and defeat, and even the commotion at dawn.
“A man who sacrificed for his older brother from birth, became a wandering knight with only his sword, and built a mercenary band one hundred strong.”
It all felt like a fleeting daydream, and he was sure this would be the last sight he ever saw.
Because soon, his head would be taken by the swords of the Night Raven Knights.
Just as Lord Yones was convinced of this, unexpected words came from Dale's mouth.
“I've taken a liking to you.”
“...Pardon?”
“You and all your mercenaries.”
At the words that followed, Lord Yones couldn't believe his ears.
“Would you be interested in wielding your sword for House Sachsen, under my command?”
“W-What does that...?”
“Before the upcoming battle, my knights will train you and your men.”
Dale's knights. The Night Raven Knights of House Sachsen themselves would teach them the sword!
“Everything from how to hold a sword to the methods of aura.”
He had believed there were no such things as opportunities. He thought he had no choice but to carve his way through the world with his sword alone.
“Rather than worrying about the future, it's more important to think about surviving the battle right in front of you.”
And ironically, the one who had taught Lord Yones more about the world's unfairness than anyone else...
...was offering him an opportunity that no one had ever dared to give.
“W-Why are you doing all this for me?”
Lord Yones asked in a trembling voice, forgetting that he was speaking to an eleven-year-old boy.
“I happened to need men...”
To Lord Yones's question, Dale answered nonchalantly, as if it didn't matter.
“...and you were there.”
Truly, as if it were a whim.
“That's just how the world works.”