Chapter 538: There Were More Idiots in the World Than He Thought
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 538: There Were More Idiots in the World Than He Thought
While Barnas had been busy beating Ragna half to death, Corwin had bolted to save his own skin.
"Wow, you really are something."
The barbarian's voice echoed from far behind, but Corwin ignored it completely and ran. He didn't look back even once. He felt that if he turned his head even now, that gray monster would be right behind him, swinging that axe.
He was like an ostrich burying its head in the sand or a pheasant hiding in the brush when threatened. It wasn't as if Rem would chase him just because he looked, or stop because he didn't.
However, the difference between Corwin and an ostrich was that Corwin possessed legs empowered by Strong Legs, fueled by his Will.
Of course, they say an ostrich burying its head isn't just being stupid—it’s a behavior linked to their unique hearing—and a pheasant hiding its head while keeping its eyes exposed is actually utilizing its keen vision. But on the surface, it still looked incredibly foolish.
Just like the fleeing Corwin did right now.
Corwin squeezed out every ounce of his strength and ran like a madman. Drool leaked from his mouth, but he was completely unaware of it. He activated Strong Legs and squandered his Will recklessly. Whether he hit his limit or not, he grabbed and used every scrap of power he could find. He didn't even have the luxury of breaking into a cold sweat.
His balls shriveled, and he felt like he was about to piss himself. He just kept running.
Corwin was lucky. What were the chances of running into an ally while fleeing—especially one who had ended up in the exact same plight?
Well, it was closer to inevitability than coincidence.
Corwin had instinctively retraced the path he had taken to get here, and the adjutant under Barnas's command had sought to rely on another knight besides Barnas. Among the various paths, there was one where two knights had gone together.
‘If I go to General Frok, I’m a dead man.’
General Frok was not the kind of man to forgive someone for returning after abandoning their subordinates. That left only one option. Escaping the Pen-Hanil Mountains alone was an impossible task to begin with.
So, their encounter couldn't be dismissed as mere coincidence.
‘All of this is to prepare for the future.’
The commander deceived himself inwardly. He needed a psychological crutch. That was how he rationalized his actions; he had fabricated that excuse to justify abandoning his entire unit.
‘I must report the enemy's strength.’
Therefore, this was not a flight, but a "strategic retreat" for a future advance.
Of course, it wasn't. A moment's thought would reveal the truth. Barnas was the last hope remaining for Azpen. Could a nation that failed to maintain its knightly forces survive a war against another country? No. Furthermore, Azpen had staked its very survival on this battle.
If the knight Azpen trusted most had been defeated, the logical first step was to assume the situation on the other battlefields was equally grim.
If his own life hadn't been on the line...
If he hadn't been on the verge of immediate death...
If he hadn't witnessed the knight he trusted most die right before his eyes...
Perhaps the commander could have faced the situation calmly. Would he have deliberately fled even if he had been calm? No one knew. What hadn't happened was simply something that would never happen. Had the commander's heart taken a different turn at that moment, he might have charged forward, crying out for his motherland.
However, this was simply the choice he had made. Time once passed could not be reclaimed, leaving only reality in its wake.
And it was into this commander's sight that Corwin appeared.
"Sir Corwin."
It was strange enough for Corwin to be here, but one look at his face made it clear that something had gone terribly wrong.
"Why are you here?" the commander asked.
Though he seemed to be in a state of panic, Corwin was still a knight. Within him lay an unbroken, solid willpower. Of course, because Corwin had attained knighthood through a peculiar path, his Will was not particularly grand. He had essentially awakened his Will thanks to the innate insight he had possessed since childhood.
Yet, he had still put in effort to get here. Corwin was simply a man to whom everything he had built was precious. His arrogance, his empty reputation, and his status were too important to him; therefore, he could not die.
"Where is Sir Barnas?" Corwin asked in return.
The commander bit his lip, his expression suggesting that even speaking was painful.
"He has fallen in battle."
Corwin blinked twice. Who died?
To Corwin, Barnas was another monster. Having received instruction from him, Corwin knew the truth. The waves Barnas forged with his Will were not something one could block just by trying. Especially for an enemy facing him for the first time, failing to block them was only natural.
"Fallen?" Corwin asked back, his voice thick with disbelief. He was in no state to hide his feelings; his emotions were laid bare on his face.
"Yes."
With a sharp clack, the commander ground his teeth. He looked immensely resentful—or rather, it looked as if he were practicing making such an expression. To Corwin, the whole thing felt like a play.
What utter nonsense.
"Why are you alone?"
"I was bested."
Normally, he would have found some way to defend himself, but Corwin was out of his mind. Having deceived and fled in the face of the enemy, the Will he had built up as a knight had suffered damage. He was in a state of total mental and physical exhaustion. It was not much different from being utterly wasted past his limit.
"Bested? What do you mean?"
"There's a monster on the other side," Corwin replied with hollow eyes.
"So... you fled?"
A runaway recognized a runaway. With a vacant gaze, Corwin nodded. Fled? Yes, I fled.
"Damn it! And you call yourself a knight? What on earth did you learn from Sir Barnas!"
Normally, the commander would never have dared to wag his tongue like this at a knight. But he, too, had arrived here in a state of panic. Furthermore, because he instinctively knew his own faults, he desperately needed someone to blame.
And that target happened to be a knight and a fellow runaway. Compared to this, his own "strategic retreat" was nothing, wasn't it? A perfect scapegoat had appeared to shoulder all the blame.
"You had better explain yourself well as to why you are the only survivor. The responsibility for this defeat will lie with you, Sir."
Had the commander been even slightly rational, he would not have spoken this way. At the very least, these were words to be spoken after returning, during a military tribunal.
Why? Because while both were runaways, one of them possessed an overwhelming advantage—enough power to reduce the two of them back to one.
Focus returned to Corwin's hazy eyes. Is it right to go back like this? To live with the stigma of a coward?
There was no need for his eyes to gleam with murderous intent.
"For now, we must return to the main unit— gasp."
Corwin raised his sword and thrust it lightly forward. Though his body and mind had taken a toll from his flight, his sword moved smoothly. As long as his opponent wasn't a knight, his swordplay was still superb.
"Why..."
Asking why, the commander realized just how foolish he had been, but knowing it changed nothing.
Thrust, thrust.
After two more thrusts, the stabbed man tried to grab the blade with his bare hands. This, too, was futile. Having put three holes in the man's body and thoroughly killing the only person who knew he had fled, Corwin spoke.
"We cannot call it a defeat just yet."
No, even if they were to lose, they couldn't lose like this. The responsibility of defeat lay with him? Utter nonsense.
Corwin's feet, which had been fleeing on pure instinct, now moved with a clear purpose. He recalled the map of the Pen-Hanil Mountains as he moved. His destination was the main unit. Not the rear, but the very place where the two armies confronted each other.
He cut straight down through the mountain range. He lost some time to a bear demonic beast along the way, but whether by good luck or bad, he managed to find his way down.
Drenched as if he had bathed in the black blood of monsters, he entered the main camp, only for two sentries to level their spears at him.
"Who goes there? Where did you come from?"
"Who the hell is this guy?"
Corwin took a deep breath to compose himself.
"I am Corwin Ekins of the Ducal Knights. Take me to the commander's tent immediately."
"...Huh?"
The soldier's dumbfounded reaction made Corwin's hand twitch. He wanted nothing more than to lop off the man's head, but he held back.
"Do I need to show you my proof?"
Corwin raised his sword. A knight's sword was his very symbol. He showed them his imprinted weapon and thrust forward his gauntlet, which was engraved with the order's crest. The soldier took the iron gauntlet, rubbed it against the dirt to wipe away the black blood, and saw the crest.
"Oh."
"This way, please."
The soldiers, whose morale had plummeted after those who stepped forward to duel were miserably defeated, turned their eyes toward Corwin. Of course, not many were looking. Everyone was focusing on the front, fearing the enemy might seize this opportunity to push in.
Thanks to that, Corwin entered the command tent relatively quietly. The general, who had been holding his post under Abnayor's orders, stood up upon seeing him.
"Sir Corwin?"
They were acquainted. Corwin's gaze shifted to the general and the two adjutants beside him. Abnayor and the general had once discussed those two adjutants. Had they said one was simple-minded but honest, while the other was clever but too self-serving?
‘In other words, he has ambition.’
The tent was spacious, but there were only three people inside besides Corwin. Since they weren't about to fight immediately, there was no strategic meeting to speak of; they had simply been passing the time, waiting for news of their allies' victory.
"What on earth..."
The general was speechless at the sight of Corwin's wretched state. Had they lost? Had they been defeated in the bypass route battle? All sorts of thoughts raced through his mind.
Amidst that silence, Corwin looked at the ambitious one—the man with narrow eyes—and spoke.
"From now on..."
Swish, swish.
Before Corwin could finish his sentence, he swung his sword. Dark red lines of blood appeared on the necks of the general and the honest adjutant, their color deepened by the black blood already coating the blade. The heads resting above those lines slid off and fell with a heavy thud.
"You are the commander-in-chief."
"Ah..."
The adjutant's lips trembled with fear. Ambition aside, he was not a particularly grand man. He was clever, but his caliber was small.
"Will you obey my orders?"
If he didn't, he would die. The situation was clear. Though small-minded, the adjutant was clever enough to grasp the situation instantly.
"Yes, I understand."
"Good. Advance the entire army immediately."
The adjutant swallowed hard.
"Do not stop until we win. We will capture the enemy's city."
Normally, when saying such things, a knight would declare that they would lead the charge, but Corwin had no intention of doing so. Instead, he told the adjutant exactly what he needed to hear.
"I will be watching from behind."
Disobedience meant death. An allied knight was literally holding a sword to his back. The adjutant knew that even if he issued the orders, they might not be executed properly. What would happen then? That dark red blade would pierce straight through his chest.
‘What do I do?’
This was the answer he arrived at after frantic calculation. Beside the dead general lay a letter sent by Abnayor. To begin with, the army on this battlefield was merely following orders handed down from above. But what if there was an order with even greater authority than Abnayor's?
"Please give me a dagger. Something symbolic to prove this is your command..."
"Take it."
Corwin handed over a jewel-hilted dagger, the kind received upon entering the order. This would suffice.
The adjutant went out and gathered the commanders. Under the pretext of extreme urgency, they met outside rather than in the tent. Since two corpses would greet them if they went inside, meeting there was out of the question.
"An urgent message arrived from the main force, and the general has returned. We will advance before sunset."
Since there were several commanders with some backbone and brains, they tilted their heads in confusion.
"Where to?"
"If we strike now, won't we be at a disadvantage?"
"You want us to start a chaotic melee?"
The adjutant lacked the charisma to sway them. Instead, he used the authority of the knight's blade.
"This is the command of Sir Corwin of the Ducal Knights. The knights have triumphed. We will capture the enemy's city."
It was already too late to turn back. For crushing bread would not turn it back into wheat.
‘Whatever happens, happens.’
If they advanced like this, casualties would pour out from both armies. They would kill, and they would die. Could they break through that way?
‘I doubt it, but...’
It was an obvious fact, clear just from looking at those who had participated in the duels and the lined-up enemy forces.
"The knights won? Are you saying there was another battle on the bypass route?"
"I don't know. That is all I was told."
Since it was a lie, speaking any further would only expose loopholes.
"Then are our knights striking the enemy from behind?"
"I did wonder why some of our forces were missing."
A quick-witted commander nodded in agreement. With the other commanders yielding to the authority of the knight's blade, Azpen completed its preparations to advance.
While things were set in motion, Corwin found a nearby lake, washed himself roughly, and contemplated his next move.
‘I will use the all-out war as bait.’
The lives of those who would die were of no concern to him.
‘Instead, I will take the Castellan's head.’
Even at this moment, his twisted mind sought a relatively weaker target rather than facing a true knight. He targeted Graham, the Castellan of the Border Guard. There was not a shred of rational judgment left in him.
Thus, Azpen began to move. Watching this, Krais could only feel utter bewilderment.
"What the hell are they doing?"
Their morale was broken, and the outcome of the bypass route battle was not yet decided. Yet they were launching an all-out assault here? And without any strategic maneuvers to accompany it? The enemy hadn't even sent a detachment to disrupt their lines.
Of course, even if they sent a portion of their cavalry, it wouldn't change anything. The Border Guard's defensive posture was already flawless. This made their move all the more incomprehensible.
"We must fight, Brother."
One could tell whether they were serious or not just by looking at the enemy's momentum. Audin spoke, and Krais knew it too. The enemy forces swarmed over the line he had inwardly drawn, crossing it without hesitation.
"Uwaaaah!"
Azpen's assault unit let out wild roars. There was no real murderous intent to be felt. It looked like nothing more than a meaningless, desperate struggle. However, stopping that desperate struggle would require countless lives to be thrown away.
Whatever the enemy commander was thinking, it was the worst possible choice. Krais had harbored doubts, but seeing it now, he was certain.
There were far more idiots in the world than he had thought.
There could be people who did things that made absolutely no sense to him. No, they existed. And there were more of them than expected.
‘What if one of the higher-ups commits a crazy act, and they just blindly carry it out?’
Then even a foolish charge like this, fighting a battle where there would be neither winners nor losers, would be possible.
"Crazy bastards."
Krais saw that a vortex of war was about to sweep over them. A slaughter of killing and being killed was about to unfold.
How to stop it? There was no way for now. Fighting back was the only option.