Chapter 132
Chapter 132
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 132
Chapter Title: Charge of the Lycanslope King
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“Charge!”
Kyaaaoooo~!!!
The Beowulf warriors, spreading out in a wide formation centered on Eugene—who had transformed into the Lycanslope King—let out long howls as they charged forward.
The distance to the enemy forces was about three hundred meters. Considering the Lycanslopes’ speed, they could close the gap in roughly thirty seconds.
Eugene’s eyes, flushed blood-red, locked onto the sole mounted knight clad in plate armor among the enemy ranks—a massive figure.
A large brown orc crest emblazoned on his breastplate.
The men gathered around him wore chain mail and plate armor bearing the same emblem.
“Target! The half-orc baron and his knights! The rest of those bastards—just smash through!”
Kroooar!!!
The Beowulf warriors unleashed their bloodlust in unison, accelerating. In that instant, a triangular formation with Eugene at the tip took shape.
It closely resembled the “lance charge” formation of heavy cavalry, the flowers of the battlefield.
Kwaaa!
The overwhelming pressure and bloodlust from thirty Lycanslopes was intensely powerful.
Added to that was the domineering aura of an Origin Vampire transformed into the Lycanslope King, crashing over the enemy lines a hundred meters ahead like a tidal wave.
Even the charge of heavily armored knights inflicted tremendous pressure on opposing infantry.
Let alone a charge led by Beowulf warriors—each the size of a mid-tier monster, clad in armor and helmets—and Eugene as the Lycanslope King.
“Ughhh...!”
“Gods... Ancestors...”
“N-No! I don’t wanna die!”
In the end, with dozens of meters still to collision, the front-line mercenaries succumbed to terror and scattered left and right, fleeing in panic.
Pushing, shoving, trampling, being trampled.
Eugene and the Beowulf warriors hadn’t even arrived yet, but the enemy lines were already in utter chaos.
Their triangular formation slammed into the pandemonium like a storm.
Krroooar!
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!!!
Roars and dull impacts erupted in succession.
Far more destructive and reckless than a cavalry lance charge, it sent dozens of mercenaries—limbs twisted and broken—flying into the air.
Before the assault of warriors clad in armor, the mercenaries armed with meager weapons and defenses were little more than wooden puppets.
Horrific screams and wails filled with agony followed immediately, and Baron Liwad’s army lines crumbled pathetically in the blink of an eye.
Eugene and the warriors didn’t slow down, barreling through, smashing and battering everything in their path. They were many, yet one—like a scorching tempest.
Unable to withstand that monstrous charge, a path finally opened in the direction they were heading.
In just over ten seconds after the initial clash, Eugene found himself face-to-face with Baron Liwad and his knights.
“......!”
The baron, helmet askew, eyes bulging wide.
Shock, regret, rage, fear, killing intent.
In that split second, Eugene noticed the baron’s face twisted in “conflict.”
Krroooarrr!
Eugene, red eyes blazing with fury, hurled his massive body forward—and almost simultaneously, the baron’s lips parted.
“Surren...”
The baron’s longsword drew a streak of light as he tried to speak. His inner conflict manifesting in contradictory action.
“Surrender? Bullshit!”
Blocking the sword strike with a magic shield, Eugene smashed the baron’s head with a hand twice the size of a normal Lycanslope’s.
Crack!
The neck of Baron Liwad—born of orc royalty, renowned for thick, sturdy bones and muscles—tore clean off.
The baron’s headless corpse slowly toppled backward from the saddle.
One blow!
In a single strike, the knight hailed as a Sword Master had perished.
“......!”
Indescribable shock and terror crushed the knights, who swiftly made their decision.
“W-We surrender!”
“We yield! We surrender!”
“Spare us!”
They hurled down their weapons, begging for their lives without hesitation.
“Krro?”
“What the hell!”
The Beowulf warriors, poised to tear into the knights, spat curses and halted.
Killing surrendered foes violated their ancient code and the honor of warriors.
“Have you ever seen such honorless scum!?”
“Hey, you cowardly bastards! All of you, lose your balls!”
The knights, hands held high, were mocked and jeered by the Wolfgan and Beowulf warriors.
The knights’ ashen faces flushed red.
Did they not know shame?
Yet the destructive power and intimidation displayed by Eugene—the monster—and the beastkin warriors were enough to make them forget honor and faith.
A Beowulf warrior transformed into a Lycanslope was a match even for a mounted knight.
But now, unmounted, they faced Beowulf warriors fully armed in sturdy plate and helmets.
In a word: hopeless.
“Pah! Filthy trash.”
Wolfgan spat thick phlegm and sidled up to Eugene.
“By the way, Dark Lord. That orc baron seemed about to say something.”
“Dunno. Probably his last words.”
“Hmm. Sounded like surrender...”
Whoosh!
“Ah, no. Must’ve misheard. Kahaha.”
Wolfgan backed away with an awkward laugh.
‘The lord was trying to surrender!’
‘He killed him on purpose. That monster knew the lord would surrender and slew him anyway.’
‘Nothing like the continent’s knights bound by chivalry!’
The knights near Baron Liwad could only sweat coldly, stealing glances at Eugene.
* * *
With the supreme commander Baron Liwad dead and his knights surrendered, the battle ended anticlimactically.
The mercenaries, their employer slain and contracts voided, gave up fleeing and meekly laid down their arms.
They could only kneel now, awaiting the victor’s mercy.
The moment Eugene and the Beowulf warriors shattered the enemy camp, the Count Krollmarin forces and mercenaries—who had charged in high spirits—were stunned to see the foes surrender so quickly.
Still, a victory was a victory.
And with zero losses on their side, a resounding triumph.
The Count Krollmarin troops and mercenaries excitedly collected the knights’ and mercenaries’ weapons and gear.
“Kekeke! Milord, milord. Just the weapons and armor alone is a huge haul. Keek? Those knights are in plate mail?”
As Mirian said, some of Baron Liwad’s knights were equipped with plate mail—spoils from continent knights during the Codex War.
The armor on the slain baron was also a reassembly of gear from highborn continental noble knights.
“Master. What now?”
Luke asked, his face still flushed with the thrill of perfect victory.
Eugene, who had planned the aftermath before the fight even began, scanned the seated knights and mercenaries watching nervously and replied.
“Absorb the mercenaries. Drag the knights to Liwad territory. We’ll ransom them.”
The baron was dead, but his spawn lived on.
Eugene intended to extract not just ransoms from the Liwad knights, but more.
“You mean invade Liwad territory, sir?”
“They struck first. Time they paid the price.”
“As expected! You plan to unify Brantia, Master!?”
Luke, unable to hide his excitement—like Eugene had already become king—asked eagerly.
Eugene shrugged at the count’s subordinate.
“Maybe not king yet, but yeah, that’s the plan for now.”
“Yes, sir! I’ll follow you to the end!”
Despite being a count, Luke ignored decorum and galloped excitedly toward the Krollmarin nobles and soldiers.
“Pitamoras. Guide us to Liwad territory.”
“No reason not to. But you really plan to take them all? The first mercenaries we recruited might get jealous.”
To the druid’s probing question, Eugene nodded casually.
“Doesn’t seem like an issue.”
“Hmm?”
Pitamoras turned toward where Eugene looked.
The two mercenary captains who had sworn loyalty to Eugene were earnestly lecturing the other captains—who, until days ago, had served Baron Liwad alongside them.
“The dead are dead. Swear loyalty to Sir Eugene if you want to live. He’ll give you a place.”
“No way...”
“The half-orc baron tried to surrender, and he still lopped off his head?”
“Obviously. Kill the employer, or these guys won’t submit quietly? Leave the baron alive as a prisoner—who holds command? Think he’d look out for you?”
“No...”
“He’d have fled alone, ransomed out, or whatever.”
“So swear loyalty first. Sir Eugene says work for him unpaid for just one year as ransom. But he’ll share the spoils.”
“Huh!?”
“I-Is that true?”
“Of course. Why else would those expensive, troublesome Beowulf follow him? Vampires and Beowulf are notoriously at odds. And Pitamoras joined him too.”
“......!!!”
The captive mercenary captains gaped at Eugene and Pitamoras.
Amid awe and fear, undisguised ambition began burning in their eyes.
“They’re selling me out?”
“That’s why I kept you around. Didn’t know? Anyway, fetch my gear quick.”
“......”
Joy or annoyance?
Pitamoras reluctantly handed over Eugene’s armor and weapons, face full of regret.
* * *
After slaying Baron Liwad and routing his army, Eugene set course for Liwad territory.
The Count Krollmarin vassals and their troops returned to their posts.
Their combat strength wasn’t great, and with Count Luke absent, they needed to defend the lands.
Of the mercenaries hired by Baron Liwad, some two hundred—excluding the dead and wounded—joined Eugene’s service.
The rest were taken by the shrewd merchant Odd to the city where they’d contracted with the baron, sold into slavery along with the seized gear.
Word of Eugene and the Count Krollmarin house thus spread instantly to the city of Brighton.
The tale of the famed Baron Liwad of Brantia perishing, his army utterly crushed, shocked the populace.
In the end, the city expelled Odd and his group, barring the gates.
“Can you believe those bastards? We’ve traded plenty before. No business ethics at all!”
“Money? Supplies?”
Odd grinned broadly, anger vanished.
“Who do you think I am, milord? Sold the slaves and bought food first. Here’s the remaining coin.”
At Odd’s signal, caravan workers carefully set down chests brimming with money.
Baron Liwad’s sizable force yielded hefty spoils profits.
Moreover, the baron’s and knights’ armor—from the continent during the Codex War—fetched high prices despite hasty sale.
“By the way. Is Brighton turning hostile?”
“Doesn’t seem so. They’d have detained me and seized everything otherwise. They’re just scared of you, milord.”
Fair enough.
A high vampire noble commanding over two hundred mercenaries and Beowulf warriors.
One who slew even the Sword Master Baron Liwad—fear was inevitable.
“Hmm. Sir, planning to take Brighton?”
When Pitamoras asked, Eugene shook his head.
“Heard Liwad territory’s not far from here. Handle that first, then decide.”
“Brighton wasn’t on bad terms with the late Baron Liwad. They might invoke loyalty and hit your rear. And Liwad castle’s never fallen. Sieges take time—could get pinched front and back?”
The druid sage’s advice was sharp and apt. Normally, Eugene would heed it gladly.
But...
“No siege will happen.”
“Hm? What’s that mean?”
Eugene bared his fangs in a grin at the tilting-headed Pitamoras.
“Far as I know, the best knights after me are already there.”
(To be continued)
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