Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: The Bandit Purge
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Now able to wield a sense of smell surpassing that of animals even during the day, Eugene had detected the presence of uninvited guests long ago from the scents of metal and oil.
There was only one reason why dozens of troops armed with spears and swords would be hiding in the hills beside the road and the bushes below.
An ambush.
And the best counter to that kind of ambush was a preemptive strike.
“Kill them! Take out the knights first!”
A man clad in fairly decent chain mail bellowed viciously.
But there was no way to stop the fully armored knight rampaging right in the middle of their formation.
Every time Eugene and Galpredic's spears swept through, two or three men collapsed, spraying blood.
A few bandits tried firing crossbows, but in the chaos of melee, they saw little effect.
Even the occasional hit failed to pierce the knights' plate mail.
Clang!
“Hoh?”
Galpredic narrowed his eyes as his spear was slightly deflected.
Most wore leather armor, but a few had chain mail or plate coats. Proof that these were proper soldiers.
Whoosh!
“Gahk!”
Galpredic hurled his long spear like a javelin, skewering another man's gut. He then grabbed the two iron bars slung behind his saddle.
“Hraaah!”
“Die!”
Seizing the brief lull in attacks, a few shouted and charged.
Clank!
Having discarded his spear, Galpredic's choice was a flail—iron bars connected by short chains to metal weights.
Swish! Thud!
A man struck square on the helmet by the lumpy metal ball toppled backward without even a scream.
Clang!
The flail on the other side wrapped its chain around a bandit's shortsword.
“Huh!?”
The bandit lost his grip on the shortsword from the brute force, and the metal ball crashed into his forehead.
Splat!
The bandit with the caved-in skull dropped dead.
“Kra ha ha ha!”
Perhaps thrilled by proper combat after so long, Galpredic laughed maniacally, more ferocious than usual.
Swinging the two flails caked in blood, flesh, and brains, he cut a truly gruesome figure.
In contrast, Eugene was committing his murders relatively cleanly(?).
Making full use of Silion's superior agility compared to ordinary warhorses, Eugene tore through the bandits' formation like an acrobat, ravaging them at will.
Crack! Thud!
Be it leather or chain mail, it all tore and pierced like paper before Wolfslaughter.
The result of a master sword, peerless technique, and superhuman strength beyond mortal limits.
Meanwhile, the bandits' attacks did no real damage to the knights and their armored mounts.
On top of that, cowed completely by the vampiric presence Eugene exuded, the bandits floundered in terror.
As a result, in less than a minute, over twenty lay dead or gravely wounded.
“M-Monsters!”
“Run!”
Only then realizing whom they'd provoked, the bandits had but one choice.
Real, top-tier knights, rarely seen.
Their plate mail had looked so ornate and pristine that they'd assumed they were noble brats out playing knight.
A foolish mistake.
Uwaaaah...!
Screaming, the bandits scattered in small groups.
But escaping mounted knights was as impossible as surviving a starving ogre.
Of the dozen or so who fled, not a single one escaped alive.
Nearly thirty troops massacred by just two men.
The few survivors, with only minor wounds, trembled in fear.
One of them, the leader, stood frozen with a deathly pale face before finally dropping his sword.
Clunk!
“I-I surrender! Spare me! I'm Karu of Leobin. Tell my family and they'll pay ransom...”
Thud!
Karu of Leobin's words didn't finish.
Galpredic's kick spun his jaw around; he foamed at the mouth and passed out, eyes rolled back.
Clop clop.
“Well fought, Master!”
Mark rushed to Eugene, face alight with excitement and awe.
“Mm.”
Eugene handed Wolfslaughter to Mark and approached Beron and his men, who gaped slack-jawed.
“Beron.”
“Yes, sir!”
Beron, his attitude utterly transformed, snapped to attention and barked a response.
“You hear that bastard's name? Know him?”
“Karu Leobin is the head of a wanted bandit gang. The ones you just took down are definitely his crew.”
“Figured as much. Head's all we need then. Galpredic.”
Muttering softly, Eugene nodded to Galpredic.
Who promptly lopped off the unconscious leader's head.
Even if his claim was true, a wanted man wouldn't fetch ransom.
No noble would pay a fortune for a son who'd sullied the family honor.
“Sir Eugene, what about the wounded?”
“Any need to keep 'em alive? Kill them all...”
“Slaves! We'll be slaves! Spare us! Please, mercy!”
The lightly wounded bandits, no threat to their lives, wept and snot-slinging begged.
“Hmm.”
Eugene pondered.
Using scum like this as slaves felt distasteful.
“Sir Eugene, the young sturdy ones'll fetch a good price.”
“Fine then.”
Partek offered cautious advice, and Eugene agreed at once. Pocket money was always welcome.
“Th-Thank you! Truly merciful!”
“May the gods' blessings ever be by your...”
“Shut your traps and strip.”
“Yes, sir!”
The four surviving bandits—no, slaves—hurriedly shed their gear.
Soon after, weapons and gear stripped from the dead were all loaded onto the wagons.
“So, Beron. This the general vibe around here?”
“More or less, yes.”
“Might happen again before Beogalan Barony then.”
“Yes. Probably.”
“Knights and mercenaries?”
“You could say that. Though cases like this are rare; usually, you pay a modest toll.”
“That thing you mentioned?”
“Yes.”
“But you said real nobles are rare anyway? No issue refusing?”
“N-No, none at all.”
“Thought so. Got it.”
Of all the 'got its' Eugene had said countless times, this one felt the most chilling; Beron swallowed hard.
* * *
Thud!
A corpse with its head smashed to pulp by a mace crumpled.
“Partek, scout the area.”
“Yes, Sir Eugene.”
As in the previous fights where he'd barely lifted a finger, Partek took Raban and vanished swiftly.
Glad naturally took charge of the slaves, sweeping up the dead's gear and possessions.
“This the fourth time?”
“Yeah. All of 'em seem half-mad. Ugh! Armor’s filthy again.”
Galpredic removed his helmet and shook off the blood.
The plate mail that had gleamed spotless upon arriving at Mopern was now a mess.
“Hey! Anyone know armor polish?”
“I do!”
One of the new slaves shot up his hand and ran over.
“Show me your skills.”
“Leave it to me, sir!”
The man diligently cleaned and polished Galpredic's plate mail as he lounged on the wagon. Until yesterday, he'd been somewhat notorious around here.
“Damn Carlsbargin Peninsula bastards got no honor whatsoever.”
“Mm. Definitely different from Maren's knights. And they're all dimwitted too.”
“They don't know their place. Gotta crack skulls to wise up. Hey, you too—you'd be dead if you'd kept playing knight. Count yourself lucky.”
“Yes! I swear never to overstep again. I pledge full loyalty to Master Eugene and Sir Galpredic.”
Rudrian, once called 'Dimoss's Silver Flash,' nodded vigorously, his bruised black face earnest.
The fake knight, a mercenary who'd claimed lordship over Dimoss village with fifty men under him, had his shield shattered and been unhorsed by one of Eugene's spear thrusts.
Then came the merciless beating; invoking false honor, Rudrian confessed he wasn't a knight and begged to be enslaved.
Distinguishing real from fake knights was surprisingly simple.
A true knight, raised with rigorous training, never denies his station even facing death.
But fakes like Rudrian reveal their true colors at once, lacking pride or conviction.
‘That said...’
Eugene looked around.
Too many people cleaning up now.
“Beron.”
“Yes, Sir Eugene!”
“How many slaves now?”
“Including those, thirty-four.”
From just over twenty when leaving the city, now over fifty in two days.
“Won't today's food run short?”
“We have some spare, but it'll need attention.”
“Hm.”
Eugene inwardly clicked his tongue.
He'd planned to sell the initial few slaves for extra coin.
But fights piled up, and taking survivors as slaves each time had ballooned the numbers.
‘Just kill 'em all?’
His crimson eyes swept over them with a chilling glint; the slaves shuddered as one.
“W-We’re fine!”
“We don’t need food! No sleep either!”
“Sir Eugene! Mercy, please!”
Infamous local bandits and mercenary captains lording over dozens all knelt, heads bowed.
“Master, how about heading to that village he ruled? Sounds big—no food worries.”
At Galpredic's whisper, Eugene glanced where he pointed.
The corpse whose skull he'd pulped with the mace moments ago.
Come to think of it, he'd boasted of Paranan village as his own.
“Beron. How far to Paranan?”
“Not far. Just a few klicks.”
Beogalan Barony was three or four days off, but at this pace, tomorrow.
“Once we're done here, head there.”
“Yes, Sir Eugene.”
Though only known for two days, Beron and his men bowed as if to a long-time liege.
And rightly so—the past four fights had showcased Eugene and Galpredic's overwhelming, merciless might.
Not that they'd killed on sight.
Unless ambushed or attacked first, they'd talked, calmly refusing excessive demands.
But once battle began, the knights turned fiends without pity or tears.
In truth, the attackers were at fault for charging despite the knights' restraint(?). Smashing assailants was innocent.
Moreover, Carlsbargin Peninsula held no ties for the knights, and attackers weren't true nobles.
No need for mercy or connections.
‘Monsters, both of 'em.’
Beron stole glances at Eugene and Galpredic chatting side by side on horseback.
‘Wait! Could it be?’
A thought struck him.
Slaves had grown in two days' fights, but the dead outnumbered them several times over.
And the crushed groups were the most notorious and powerful.
‘Hasn't this stretch of road been completely cleared?’
Others remained, but those slain or enslaved were the strongest, by Beron's knowledge.
‘If Sir Eugene aims for a lordship here?’
Beron realized.
A chance to serve an exceptional knight highly likely to become a lord stood before him.
(To be continued in the next installment)