Knight Tournament (6)
It hadn't been long since they started walking single file along the narrow path when a dozen slender poison darts flew out from the bushes on either side.
Phut-phut-phew—
Ting-ting-ting—
Todler, startled, shrank back and let out a scream.
"Argh! What the hell is this?"
Lance spotted monsters beyond the bushes and shouted quickly.
"Goblins!"
Fortunately, even the standard-issue armor was too tough for darts shot from blowpipes. The poison needles barely pierced the tips, dangling harmlessly.
But the attack was far from over.
"Kieek!"
"Kiek!"
The goblins responsible burst out wielding all sorts of crude weapons.
Suddenly surrounded, the team members panicked and milled about in confusion.
I knew it would be like this. Tsk tsk.
Calix shook his head and strolled toward the goblin horde as if out for a leisurely walk.
Kieek!
One goblin spotted him and charged with a guttural screech.
The tattoo on its forehead marked it as one enchanted with weakening magic.
But its glowing red eyes, razor-sharp teeth, and drooling maw were still enough to unnerve anyone short of the steeliest heart.
That was why the other Class 4 team members—who could easily handle goblins—were failing to respond properly.
But not Calix.
He was sick to death of these small fry. He could slaughter magic-weakened monsters with his eyes closed.
Swoosh—
The goblin swung a short sword about the length of a child's arm.
No need to dodge.
Calix's arms were much longer, and so was his blade.
Thwack!
His downward slash cleaved the monster's flesh in a long diagonal gash. Dark green fluids sprayed as it flew off and slammed into the distance.
"Blade's a bit dull. Tsk."
His usual favored sword would have bisected it cleanly, but this standard-issue iron blade couldn't manage that.
Still, butchering the goblin pack was no great challenge.
Calix casually sidestepped another goblin's blade and swung his sword horizontally.
The wide arc traced a broad V, sending two goblins tumbling away in an instant.
They rolled on the ground, entrails spilling from ruptured bellies.
"Hyaah!"
Calix's rampage continued.
Sensing a shadow behind him, he spun and thrust out his elbow.
Crack!
The goblin's jaw shattered against his sturdy elbow guard. Before it could even scream in agony, Calix's steel boot stomped down on its head.
Squelch!
"Kyaaak!"
"Kyaak!"
This time, two goblins lunged from both sides.
Calix gripped his longsword with both hands, raised it overhead, and swung in a mighty arc.
Whoosh!
A white trail followed as their heads and torsos separated simultaneously.
In moments, seven or eight goblins lay dead and sprawled across the ground.
"Heh heh heh…"
A grin crept across Calix's lips.
It felt good.
This thrill was something he'd never tasted back when he'd hunted wild beasts one by one, risking his life each time.
Even these pathetic weaklings—dispatching a pack in seconds made him understand the arrogance of power-obsessed knights.
No wonder the masters act so high and mighty.
Confidence swelled within him, the kind that made him feel invincible.
He didn't stop, launching himself at the remaining goblins.
Meanwhile, the other team members watched his exploits with mixed feelings.
"Should we help?"
"Doesn't look like he needs it."
"Y-yeah…"
Then Lance, standing nearby, silently tightened his grip on his shield and sword.
With a mighty roar, he charged the goblins.
"Raaah!"
"Keng!"
The goblin struck by his momentum-fueled shield bash flew back, crashing into others and disrupting their formation.
Lance dashed up and hammered down on the writhing goblin.
Crack!
Thick green ichor oozed from the pulverized corpse, slowly soaking the ground.
"Kiik!"
Another goblin swung a wooden club.
Lance's eyes wavered.
His hammer was stuck in the previous goblin's ribs, refusing to budge.
"Hup!"
Realizing evasion was impossible, he dropped the weapon and desperately raised his shield.
Clang!
The impact transmitted through the shield was lighter than expected.
Emboldened, Lance threw himself at the goblin without hesitation.
Bam!
The gnoll-like monster rebounded like a rubber ball from his armored charge.
He pursued relentlessly, pounding it into a bloody pulp.
Unable to contain the rush, he bellowed.
"Raaargh!"
The triumphant roar of a novice warrior tasting true combat for the first time.
As time passed, the goblins focused on Calix and Lance, who fought aggressively.
The sidelined others grew uneasy.
No matter what, I can't be the dead weight in this team…
I'm better than that guy, right?
"Uh… um, guess I should pitch in too…?"
Rones trailed off and charged first.
"You bastard! Wait up!"
"M-me too!"
Bernu and Sial followed.
Finally, all five engaged the goblins in earnest.
Once the last goblin fell, the five collapsed, panting heavily after their fierce—if clumsy—battle.
Despite their awkward swordplay, they were mostly unscathed.
The magic-weakened goblins struggled to penetrate their armor for real damage.
Yet they'd struggled so much for a simple reason: zero real combat experience.
Part 2 was called the Blood Rite because it tested if they were prepared to take lives.
No amount of physical prowess made a warrior without the resolve.
That's why renowned martial houses trained heirs to kill beasts from childhood.
But slitting a dying animal's throat was worlds apart from facing a horde of malice-driven goblins.
Fear of vulnerability made proper fighting impossible.
It was no surprise these knight candidates—lacking even basic group hunt practice—panicked.
Even so, all commoners who'd reached Class 4 without decent support meant talent and grueling training; hands callused to hell.
Better to mold scrappy weeds like these than pampered greenhouse flowers. Heh heh heh.
As Calix smirked slyly, the now somewhat accustomed team finished off the rest.
Not cleanly, of course. Overexertion left them utterly spent.
But while they slumped gasping, Calix immediately started walking again.
Todler, sprawled and heaving, called out.
"H-hey, pant pant. Where… where you going already?"
"Keep lounging like that, and you'll stay 'just another candidate' like you said."
Unable to retort, they dragged their aching bodies up, cursing.
"Damn it!"
As they trudged the path, Calix asked the others.
"You know the scoring for Part 2 of the Knight Tournament?"
Lance scanned nervously and replied.
"How fast you collect markers, team coordination, and monsters hunted."
Before he finished, thornless arrows rained from all sides.
Thud-thud-thunk!
Most bounced off armor to the ground.
But the real assault was just beginning.
Grrrrowl-grrrk!
"Gnoll!"
Hyena-headed bipeds.
Classified as small monsters like goblins, but near-human size and pack tactics made them tricky.
"These have forehead tattoos too. No big deal!"
Todler charged the gnoll pack first.
But gnolls differed from goblins.
Unlike goblins' chaotic scrambles, they paired off in twos for organized counters.
Todler, gleefully cornering one, yelped as a spear grazed his side.
"Wh-what?!"
Only then did he realize: the gnoll he'd thought cornered had been luring him in.
Flustered, he couldn't handle the duo's pincer.
The others fared similarly.
Not Calix.
He switched targets to nearby gnolls instead of pursuing retreats.
When one fell back, he struck another close by.
Area defense.
Steadfast in position, he focused on guarding—and seized every slim opening.
Heh, too deep now?
Cunning or not, monsters couldn't match trained, experienced humans.
The moment one overcommitted, his sword lanced like lightning, piercing vitals.
Squelch! Spurt—
Green ichor misted the air.
His third kill.
Gnoll corpses piled neatly around him.
As Calix impassively felled gnolls, the others barely survived multiple close calls.
Piiip—
A distant flute pierced the air, and the gnolls withdrew like the tide.
The exhausted team collapsed, gasping.
Sial asked Calix reproachfully.
"Y-you're not gonna help?"
"Why should I?"
"Team casualties are a clear deduction."
"Nobody died."
"Nngh…"
Calix addressed the wrecked team coldly.
"Now you get what happens charging enemy lines solo."
No one replied.
It rang true, but admitting it bruised egos.
"Most candidates never notice one fact, since you only get one shot at the tournament."
Curiosity softened their sullen faces.
"What's that?"
"Monsters and their order are identical for every team in Part 2."
"What does that mean?"
"Tsk tsk. Think they picked that randomly?"
"Hmm…!"
"Goblins are classic 'ambush to melee chaos.' No coordination, just attack what's in sight. Gnolls? Methodical and sly."
"Getting harder step by step?"
"Even gnolls know that. Humans push further."
"Kuh…!"
Bernu, deep in thought, murmured.
"We need organized counters too."
"Heh heh, better than monsters at least."
"But we've never learned that."
"Figures. While you farmed or did chores, noble and knight kids studied military tactics."
"Back to birth privilege, huh."
"But not hopeless. One who knows can train the team."
Gazes turned to Calix.
He met each eye.
"Ready to obey me now?"
"…Lead us."
"Your lives are mine now. No turning back. Disobey, and I'll hack off limbs and leave you. Objections?"
His ruthless declaration.
They finally grasped true combat unit dynamics.
More than resentment, relief bloomed—a protector had arrived.
Thanks to his overwhelming prowess.
Faith he'd deliver victory.
Easy.
He'd already charmed seasoned knights and soldiers in Szczecin County.
Reeling in these rookies was child's play.