Chapter 82
Chapter 82
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 82
Chapter Title: Encounter with the Holy Knight
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Boom!
“Gah!”
A powerful body slam sent the knight in cylindrical armor flying without even swinging his sword once, and he ended up plunging into the water.
“Lord Balzac!”
The other flustered knights raised their swords and shields.
Swish!
Battle axes, which required both hands to wield for any real destructive power, Eugene swung one in each hand.
Crash! Clang!
“Argh!”
One knight’s shield shattered to pieces from a single blow, his arm breaking as he soared backward. The knight beside him tried to deflect the axe blade with his longsword, but the overwhelming force snapped his blade, causing him to drop his weapon.
Eugene didn’t stop, spinning his body swiftly. His cloak billowed as the eerie sound of axe blades slicing through the air overlapped, like a black whirlwind descending.
Swoosh! Boom!
The moment the axe blade embedded into the thick breastplate, Eugene casually released the handle.
“Gurk!”
Thanks to the armor, the blade didn’t penetrate his body, but the knight took the full unimaginable force of the blow. His body spun twice in midair before flying back several meters.
Thud!
“...!”
The only knight untouched by Eugene’s attacks gaped in shock.
In mere seconds, three knights had been defeated without landing a proper hit. Whether struck or blocked, they had all been sent flying and crashed.
Eugene casually lowered his battle axes and glanced at the knight.
“Hup!”
As the knight flinched involuntarily, Eugene said in a low voice.
“Want some?”
With that short remark, the knight frantically shook his head.
“Lord Balzac! Lord Balzac!”
“Lord Balzac fell in the water!”
Soon, people came rushing from the castle.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes! Master!”
Eugene remounted Silyon’s saddle and leisurely passed them by with Luke.
At that moment, up ahead, a group of knights were just about to enter the main castle.
“...!”
Was it an illusion?
Eugene rubbed his eyes, blinked hard several times, then narrowed his gaze to stare at the spot.
Amid the chain-mailed soldiers stood three knights in silver plate armor beneath blue surcoats.
One of them, dismounting a dazzling white horse, was a figure Eugene could never forget, even in death.
‘Yung Dirhit...?’
The arrogant face of the holy knight who had beheaded him in his previous life burned into Eugene’s vision.
Just then, a fierce gust rode the river current.
Through his black seaweed-like hair fluttering in the wind, Eugene’s eyes fixed on Dirhit glowed crimson red. Long-forgotten memories of his past life churned in his mind.
The sensation of the silver sword piercing his flesh felt vivid.
The holy knight’s face, laughing as Eugene wailed, rose like a ghost, and his breath grew ragged without him realizing.
‘Should I kill him?’
As the rage and murderous intent etched into his soul surged forth, Eugene quickly steadied his breathing and suppressed it.
He had expected to face him someday, but seeing him in person suddenly stirred emotions he hadn’t anticipated.
Killing Dirhit in Count Winslon’s castle was impossible.
Unlike his previous life, the man had no idea who he was. Openly murdering a young, rising star beloved by the church’s higher-ups would bring a storm of backlash.
That didn’t mean he’d let him be.
The fact that Dirhit had killed him remained unchanged.
Whether Dirhit felt wronged because it hadn’t happened yet or not, Eugene had no reason to consider his side.
‘An opportunity will come.’
His growth far surpassed his previous life, not just in raw power.
Self-control and patience.
Having gained these two abilities as vital as any supernatural gift, Eugene barely reined in his fury and bloodlust toward Dirhit, turning his steps back.
“Let’s head back.”
The spirit of desire threw a fit in frustration.
“Kiek!? Wait, why aren’t we going into the castle!? Master? Master?”
Mirian had traveled many places since contracting with Eugene, but this was the first castle as grand and magnificent as Winslon Castle.
This was exactly the kind of place Eugene needed to reference—or steal!—when he became the Demon King Overlord Supreme.
‘Or just take it over! Kekeke!’
He was deep in such devious yet thrilling fantasies when this happened?
“Let’s go to the castle. Huh? We gotta meet the count with the letter of recommendation, right?”
“...”
But Eugene said nothing, simply turning his horse back toward the village across the bridge.
“Ma... kieek!”
As Mirian tried to press again, he suddenly shuddered, wings trembling.
Judging by Eugene’s chillingly sunken eyes and tightly pressed lips.
‘He’s in a super serious mood! Best to stay quiet now.’
Having learned from past beatings for being pushy, the spirit cautiously folded his wings and slipped back into the leather pouch on his own.
“Master. If I may be so bold, may I ask a question?”
Luke, who had been silently brooding, asked carefully, and Eugene nodded.
“Go ahead.”
“Those knights I glimpsed inside the castle gate earlier. It might be my imagination, but their surcoats’ emblem...”
“You saw right. They’re holy knights.”
“Ah. So it was them.”
Luke had seen a few paladins from monasteries, but this was his first time laying eyes on the central church’s very martial force, the holy knights known as the ‘Blood Star’—a five-pointed star.
Holy knights felt distant even to those walking the path of the sword.
Moreover, as a native of Brantia, Luke deeply despised them.
‘As expected, Master holds true faith. He wouldn’t even associate with rotten cardinals and bishops who cry out to God with their mouths, or their lackeys, the holy knights.’
The reason Luke became a slave was the continental church’s cardinals and bishops labeling Brantia’s lords as heretics and launching an invasion.
Thus, his fervent loyalty and reverence for Eugene burned even hotter, albeit for somewhat misguided reasons.
Eugene’s choice regarding Yung Dirhit elicited unexpected reactions from others as well.
* * *
“Eugene? Never heard of him.”
“Some backwater family holed up in the boonies?”
“Sounds kinda imperial from the name.”
The knights, wiping sweat after sparring and chatting idly, reacted indifferently.
“So one’s dead and two got smashed? Who died?”
“Lord Balzac, Master.”
“Who’s that again? Oh, that bumpkin in the barrel armor?”
Hahaha!
The knights burst into laughter recalling Balzac’s cylindrical armor.
But the squire who had witnessed the bridge fight by chance didn’t laugh.
“Lord Balzac flew about five meters from a single body slam and drowned in the river.”
“...”
The knights’ laughter faded.
Not tackled, but sending a heavily armored opponent flying several meters?
“There were three lords total. One had his shield shattered and arm broken. Another’s longsword snapped in two, then an axe bit into his breastplate—the impact cracked his ribs.”
“Hmm. Impressive divine power, but what’s hard about handling a couple country knights?”
“Yeah. They couldn’t even get in anyway since spots were full. Nameless freelance knights are usually worse than decent merc captains.”
Slightly surprised but still relaxed, the knights heard the squire continue cautiously.
“Lords. Lord Eugene faced all three knights at once.”
“...!”
The knights flinched.
Confident in their skills, even they would hesitate at facing three freelancers simultaneously.
“How long? At least ten exchanges each, right?”
“He must’ve taken some wounds even if it was that long.”
“Decent skill, but short on brains. Tournament’s in two days—injuries now?”
“It took less than ten seconds.”
“What!? For real?”
The knights’ eyes widened at the squire’s reply.
“Yes, truly. And Lord Eugene wasn’t injured at all. Not a scratch on his armor.”
“...”
Heavy silence settled over the knights.
After a moment, a knight with a hardened expression asked the squire.
“So. Where’s this Lord Eugene now? Outer castle? Annex? Not the main keep, surely.”
“No way! Never heard of his family.”
Half entry to Winslon Castle was first-come-first-served, but knights without connections stayed in the outer areas.
This annex housed those with regional fame or knights of titled lords.
True nobles who were knights stayed in the main keep—impressive lineup, mostly titled, even rumors of holy knights.
“Gotta befriend him if he’s in the annex.”
“Yeah. Rivals in jousting and sword fights, but more strong knights help in mock battles.”
“Won’t the guys from Antinori snag him first? Where’s he from again?”
As questions poured in, the squire scratched his head awkwardly, baffled himself.
“He... just turned back.”
“...What?”
“Not certain, but seems he went to the tent village outside Winslon’s walls for freelance knights.”
The shocking tale of the knight who stirred a storm before the tournament even began, yet didn’t enter the castle, spread through Winslon Castle within a day.
Naturally, it reached Count Winslon, the castle’s lord.
* * *
Eugene set up a temporary camp in a remote spot of the tent village made by freelance knights attending the tournament.
He pitched a tent with beast hides bought in the village, added two simple beds and chairs, making it livable.
Unable to leave his precious bloodbred horse unattended, he brought Silyon and Luke’s horse inside too.
‘Felt a bit bad then.’
Whinny!
Pleased by Eugene’s touch, Silyon nickered softly.
‘But if it happens again, no choice.’
“Good boy.”
Recalling when he’d loosed Silyon to lure the griffin, Eugene smiled coldly.
Silyon shuddered as if struck by a chill, his glossy coat rippling—but probably just imagination.
“Kie... Holy knights or whatever, just go into the count’s castle. Master staying in this dump in such a fine place? Ridiculous.”
Eugene thoroughly ignored the grumbling lump of desire with its odd phrasing.
He never cared for lavish lodgings with servants attending, so he felt no discomfort.
With taciturn, perceptive Luke serving diligently, it even felt more comfortable.
‘Hmm. Take Luke as a squire?’
No rule limited knights to one squire, so he pondered.
Unlike Pellid, formalizing Luke, who traveled often, risked exposing his vampire identity.
‘Then I’d have to kill him.’
Useful, yes, but Luke differed from Galpredic or Romari.
Not fully trustworthy yet; if he learned the truth, killing him was wisest.
Yet Eugene didn’t want to. Paradoxically, liking him made it so.
‘Watch him a bit longer.’
As he thought that, noise erupted outside the tent.
“I’ll check, Master.”
Luke, belted only with his shortsword, swiftly exited.
Less than ten seconds later, he rushed back.
“Master, you should come out.”
“Hm? What’s going on?”
“Visitors. But...”
Seeing calm Luke flustered, Eugene tilted his head and stepped out.
“Isn’t that a knight from Count Winslon?”
“Real deal. Why’s he here? For that guy?”
“Saw him earlier—armor and gear looked pricey. Nothing else special, though.”
Eugene stared at the approaching knight in helmet as freelance knights from various places whispered.
Recognizing the leisurely approaching knight, Eugene’s eyes widened slightly.
Seeing Eugene’s expression, the knight grinned and removed his helmet.
“Sharp eyes you have, Lord Eugene.”
The knight with a smooth face and refreshing smile was Ranslo Dulac, the guard they’d met at the gate.
(To be continued in the next installment)