Chapter 88
Chapter 88
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 88
Chapter Title: Selective Mercy
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Eugene, who had won his first swordsmanship match using Wolfslaughter, switched to battle axe and mace for the subsequent bouts.
Even though Wolfslaughter was an exceptional named sword, it was hard to expect much against opponents clad in plate armor.
Of course, there were knights who stuck with longswords or shield and shortsword throughout, but properly trained knights considered that foolish.
Adapting and using various weapons appropriately depending on the opponent and situation was the basics of combat, after all.
Thus, what was called a swordsmanship tournament was in reality no different from one-on-one duels, and as time passed, weapons capable of destroying sturdy armor began appearing more frequently than swords.
And Eugene, who had made Galpredic his retainer and absorbed all of his combat techniques, displayed overwhelming skill even in such matchups.
However, the atmosphere was quite different from yesterday.
* * *
“Ugh!”
Free knight Firmino unwittingly raised his left arm and staggered back a few steps from the powerful impact transmitted through his shield.
Eugene closed the gap without missing the opening and swung his mace, prompting the flustered Firmino to thrust his shortsword on reflex.
Clang!
The moment the sword was blocked by the gauntlet, Eugene’s mace smashed into Firmino’s helmet.
“Gah!”
Firmino staggered with a short cry.
Whoosh!
As he barely managed to regain his balance, the mace came plummeting vertically toward his head once more.
An unavoidable strike.
“Ah!”
With a short gasp, Firmino squeezed his eyes shut.
Yet, even after time passed, he felt nothing.
Firmino cautiously opened his eyes. The mace, which had been falling with terrifying force as if to cave in his skull, had stopped right before them.
His body trembling, Firmino bit his lip and bowed his head.
“I yield.”
“The winner! Yaan Eugeeeene!”
Roooar!!!
As the announcer raised his voice, thunderous cheers and applause erupted.
But Eugene showed no victor’s salute to the crowd, instead extending a hand to Firmino.
“That was impressive swordsmanship, sir.”
“……!”
Firmino’s eyes widened before he let out a long sigh and clasped Eugene’s hand.
“Awesome!”
“He’s the best! Eugene!”
“Knights who know honor! Both fought well!”
The crowd grew even more ecstatic at the beautiful scene of the victor consoling the defeated after a fair fight, straight out of a romance tale.
Especially since the winner was the champion of yesterday’s jousting tournament.
“Sir, your ransom—I’ll collect it today…….”
“No need. I’m satisfied with having bested you in combat. Farewell.”
“Ah.”
Eugene gave a light nod to the surprised Firmino and turned away without delay.
“Kyat! Again? You’re really not taking it? Pennies make the demon king’s castle, you know.”
Mirian grumbled regretfully, but Eugene ignored him and headed under the awning of the waiting area.
“Master, quench your thirst!”
Luke approached with an excited face and offered a wooden cup.
“I’ll! I’ll make water to drink! Just wait a sec, milord.”
As Mirian actually dove into the leather pouch to ‘make’ water, Eugene quickly corked it shut.
Kyat! Kyeek!
He felt the creature thrashing about, but Eugene paid it no mind.
“That’s three now, eh?”
“Impressive. Knocking out three knights in a row without much rest.”
“But no one’s died, right? I thought he was some cold-blooded knight without blood or tears. Color me surprised.”
“And not taking any ransoms either. Truly a knight who knows honor.”
The other knights glanced at Eugene and whispered among themselves.
While not as deadly as the jousting, the swordsmanship tournament was plenty dangerous, with several deaths already.
Unlike yesterday’s jousting, however, none of the knights Eugene had faced so far had died, and he hadn’t exercised his right as victor to claim ransoms.
That was enough to change the attitudes of some knights who had envied or resented him.
‘I did well not killing them on purpose.’
“Congratulations, Sir Eugene. Already three straight wins.”
Lanslo, who had sneaked up at some point, whispered lowly, prompting Eugene to turn.
“No matter how little we like each other, shouldn’t you be over there?”
“It’s fine. Nobody cares what I do anyway.”
Lanslo grinned at the territory knights before speaking to Eugene again.
“But… did you deliberately forgo the ransoms?”
“They’re all poor. Unlike the knights quartered in the castle.”
Yesterday’s jousting participants were mostly titled or high-status knights lodging within Winslon Castle.
Plate armor or jousting gear was outrageously expensive, something impoverished free knights rarely possessed.
But the swordsmanship tournament could be entered with just chain mail or a plate coat.
The ransom was the same upon defeat, but fixed at 50 silver coins, drawing many free knights.
“As expected. Thanks to you, not just the tent village free knights but even those staying at village inns are seeing you in a new light. As an honorable knight who upholds chivalry.”
Lanslo looked at Eugene with newfound respect.
But Eugene wasn’t doing it for chivalry or honor.
“Then they might consider joining the unit I enter for the mock battle.”
“Even if their nature’s rotten, the village-lodged knights… Ah! Could it be?”
To the suddenly enlightened Lanslo, Eugene replied softly.
“More knights, the better.”
Eugene’s goal was to recruit not just the tent village knights but those staying in the castle town as well.
Unlike the jousting, where most were wealthy, he waived ransoms from swordsmanship losers.
‘Deep down, I want to fleece them all, but I’ll endure for the bigger prize.’
Hiding his regret, Eugene said.
“I hear the Holy Knights and castle-quartered knights have already formed their mock battle unit?”
“Yes. It’s common for similarly ranked knights to band together.”
“Hm. Roughly forty, then. They’ll hire mercenaries for the rest?”
“They’ve got money to burn. They even look down on free knights, thinking only they’re true honorable knights.”
Eugene sensed mockery in Lanslo’s gentle tone.
As he said, ‘noble knights’ from good families, thoroughly trained with top gear, shunned free knights.
Noble knights believed only they were honorable, refined true knights.
To them, free knights were arrogant, stubborn illiterate peasants.
Thus, noble knights formed units with fellow elite like Holy Knights.
“Then with squires and mercenaries, their actual force will be sizable.”
“Indeed. Plus, siding with the winning side is human nature. No matter how merciful you are in the tournament, I doubt the knights will join your unit.”
“Maybe not. But after the swordsmanship finals, plenty will change their minds.”
“Yes?”
Lanslo blinked.
Eugene was strong, might even win the swordsmanship championship after jousting.
But what did that have to do with mock battle unit choices?
“Master. Next opponent’s set. Starts in 30 minutes.”
At Luke’s hurried report, Eugene nodded.
“Right. Who is it?”
“Baron Aindolf, lord of Kolben, they said.”
Eugene turned to Lanslo.
“Baron Aindolf—staying in the main castle?”
“That’s right.”
“Then he’ll be in the Holy Knights’ unit for the mock battle?”
“Most likely.”
“Good.”
‘Good? What’s good about that?’
Lanslo’s question was answered 30 minutes later.
* * *
Boom!
Baron Aindolf flew back, battle axe embedded in his breastplate.
“Grah! Hack!”
Thanks to his expensive plate armor, he’d barely survived, but with shattered ribs, he writhed, coughing blood.
“M-Master!”
“Milord!”
His pale-faced squire and servants rushed to support the baron and load him onto a stretcher.
“The winner! Yaan Eugeeeene!”
Amid the announcer’s call and cheers, Eugene approached Baron Aindolf.
The baron’s retainers paused, expecting the honorable black knight to console their lord as he had all day.
But Eugene’s words after removing his helmet were utterly unexpected.
“You owe ransom.”
“……?”
“You’ve got a title, lands. Even hired mercenaries to join the Holy Knights’ unit? Pay up.”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
The squire hastily counted silver coins into a leather pouch and offered it politely under Eugene’s chilling gaze.
Eugene told Luke to take it and strode back under the awning.
The knights whispered watching him.
“Why take ransom this time?”
“Who knows?”
“And he didn’t kill, but left him half-crippled. That injury’ll keep him bedridden ten days even chugging mana crystals daily.”
“Hm. Trying to bench him for the mock battle?”
“Nah, no way.”
Overhearing, Lanslo narrowed his eyes.
‘Could it be……?’
Lanslo hurried to the announcer and asked about Eugene’s next opponent.
“Baron Ferren of Belmart.”
“Staying in the main castle?”
“No, the annex, I believe.”
“Hm.”
Annex knights were titled or commissioned, likely joining Holy Knights too.
‘This, this.’
A sly smile crept onto Lanslo’s lips as realization dawned.
And 30 minutes later, Eugene vs. Baron Ferren unfolded as Lanslo predicted.
* * *
“Gaaah!”
Baron Ferren collapsed into the mud, screaming dramatically and flailing.
“Uwaa! Uwaaa!”
“M-Master!”
His retainers swarmed the baron, arms grotesquely twisted, tears streaming.
This time, Eugene had subdued the baron barehanded and said flatly.
“Ransom.”
“Pardon?”
“Hand over the ransom. Title, lands. Hired mercenaries to join the Holy Knights’ unit?”
“……!”
Hearing the exact same words as the previous match, Ferren’s retainers gaped.
Anyone not an idiot could now grasp Eugene’s intent.
‘He’s half-killing only knights going to other units!?’
They caught on perfectly.
* * *
“T-That vile heretic! Crippling only the knights set to fight with us?”
Holy Knight Iod gnashed his teeth after Eugene’s five straight wins.
He’d shrugged off Baron Aindolf’s broken ribs, but after Ferren and two more knights got similarly mangled, conviction set in.
Only prestigious noble knights allied with Holy Knights suffered severe injuries and ransoms.
“Hmph! Thinks that’ll make our knights betray us? Disgusting and stupid. Right, Sir Dirhit?”
“True. I doubt our committed knights will betray us. But…….”
“Hm?”
Dirhit gazed gravely not at Winslon’s main castle but the castle town knights and said.
“They’re rallying to the heretic out of vicarious satisfaction.”
“……Must deal with him in the finals.”
Realizing the gravity, Iod told his squire.
“Bring my holy sword.”
“Yes, sir!”
Iod, belting on the church longsword, checked his gear.
Both longsword and tucked rondel dagger contained silver.
Excellent on their own, supreme against mana stone-bearing monsters or undead.
His plate armor was silver-inlaid, infused with high priestly holy power.
Iod drew the longsword.
Zing!
The blade symbolizing the Holy Knight’s faith and church honor rang purely, revealing its sleek form.
“Even if you don’t kill, you must wound him, Sir Iod.”
“Leave it to me. I’ll expose that heretic’s true nature to all.”
Achieving his purpose here, Iod strode confidently to the finals arena.
(To be continued in the next chapter)