Chapter 35
Chapter 35
When the twin axes finally bit deep into the knight's seemingly impregnable full plate armor—
Thud!
More than a dozen enraged brutes immediately rushed forward, smashing heavy warhammers against his helmet with all their might.
Crash!
Blunt weapons, axes, spears, and swords followed, striking from every direction and tearing into the knight's body.
As the relentless assault shook him back and forth, even his warhorse, no longer protected by his aura, finally collapsed.
The knight was a wounded lion.
The invaders were hyenas that had found an opening.
This old monster could cut down a dozen men with a single swing of his sword.
If they failed to tear him apart now, they might never get another chance.
The knight's body fell upon the blood-soaked earth, unable to move.
To the naked eye, he appeared defeated.
But after losing nearly half their comrades, the invaders had no intention of showing mercy to an old man.
Bang! Bang! Crack! Boom!
The black armor was gradually reduced to twisted scrap metal.
His flesh was shredded apart, becoming little more than torn meat.
Blood streamed down from the countless arrows embedded throughout his body, painting crimson trails as it dripped.
The pain he endured alone was beyond imagination.
A sword pierced his shoulder.
Another slashed into his leg.
A different weapon drove into his side.
Dozens of blades descended upon a single body at once.
The hyenas who had finally found prey after a long famine showed no restraint.
Blue aura flared together with blood.
Only for a brief moment.
Even that tiny opening was not afforded to the defeated.
His blood never even reached the ground.
It splashed across the skin and armor of the barbarians crowding around him instead.
The beasts, blinded by killing intent, shoved each other aside in their eagerness to land another strike.
Who could stab deeper?
Who could scream louder while carving into his flesh?
A grotesque competition had begun.
This could hardly be called a battle anymore.
It was a ritual.
A madness.
A chaotic outpouring of hatred.
As Reckun's consciousness slowly faded, countless memories flashed before his eyes.
He wondered where everything had gone wrong.
Beyond his dimming vision stood Bellarc's shabby castle.
Though he had always tried not to show it, every time he looked at it, feelings of sadness and regret inevitably surfaced.
The downfall of the family he had served for eighty years also meant the futility of the life devoted to it.
He had fulfilled his duty as a man.
He had upheld his convictions as a knight.
He had given even his soul—not to a demon, but to a human.
Why had an orphan like him fought so desperately to survive?
He wasn't sure about many things anymore.
But one truth remained.
Back when he had been too weak to pluck even a small fruit from a tree.
Back when he had been less significant than a pebble on the roadside.
A single man had saved him from death.
Everything since then had been for that man.
The great will of Bellarc.
Raden Con Bellarc.
A lord worthy of every ounce of loyalty he received.
Reckun had never doubted it.
He had been born to become a part of that endless glory.
To stand beside the Great Black Lion.
But now...
What remained?
The towering walls that once reached the heavens.
The magnificent banners that fluttered above them.
The Black Brotherhood who had stood shoulder to shoulder with him.
The countless citizens who laughed together in the capital.
And the lord who had ruled over all of it.
None of it remained.
Not a trace.
Only fading memories of a glorious past.
What was left to him now?
A hollow ideal of knighthood.
That shabby watchtower.
And the young squires crying atop it.
Among them—
The most troublesome brat of all.
"...?"
The old knight's fading gaze drifted upward.
"You bastards!!!"
A girl was screaming hysterically from atop the walls.
She shouted about killing them.
About putting down her sword.
About fighting them herself.
About what kind of cowards surrounded a single old man.
A child who could barely kill a wild boar yet somehow never lacked confidence.
"Let me go! LET ME GO!"
The squires who had gathered around her desperately tried to restrain her.
Yet despite her small frame, she was absurdly strong.
Even their combined efforts were beginning to fail.
Just as the girl was about to throw herself from the wall—
!!!
Lightning struck through the old knight's fading consciousness.
"You foolish little idiot!!!"
The thunderous roar silenced everyone gathered around the castle.
No one could have imagined that a man being beaten into a bloody pulp could still produce such a voice.
"I told you to stay put and behave yourself!"
Even Sera froze instantly.
The girl who had been crying and screaming became silent under the overwhelming scolding.
"Do my words mean nothing to you!?"
The sheer force of her master's rebuke robbed her of the courage to take another step.
Crunch!
Using that brief opening, Reckun grabbed two mercenaries by the neck and rose to his feet.
He used their corpses as shields to weather the renewed attacks before tearing the lance from his back.
The sight was horrifying.
The old man who had looked no different from a corpse suddenly stood again as if possessed.
Even the invaders were stunned.
"...Hah."
Reckun laughed quietly.
Now that he thought about it...
Hadn't he once faced armies even larger than this by himself?
The reason he had fallen was because he had grown old.
Because he had lost the guiding star of his heart.
But his shoulders still carried burdens too heavy to abandon.
If he was going to lie down, it should be in his wife's embrace.
Not here.
"I have no right to blame anyone."
His weakened heart had briefly resented the heavens.
But the regret buried deep inside him belonged solely to a man who had failed to stand beside his lord when it mattered most.
When the Great Black Prince had been betrayed by his own blood...
Reckun had already retired.
He had been spending peaceful days with his wife and children by a riverside.
That cursed moment remained a wound that would follow him into death.
"I almost made a mistake."
He knew that better than anyone.
And yet he had nearly repeated it.
Because there was someone nearby wearing the same expression he once had.
That little girl who barely reached his waist.
He had nearly forced upon her the same despair he once suffered.
The despair of being unable to do anything while someone precious fell before your eyes.
Such a burden was too heavy for a child.
Especially for a child already carrying so much.
Even now, Sera constantly worried about the debt she owed her lord.
If guilt were added to that weight, it would crush her day after day.
And if this crude castle fell, even that miserable future would disappear.
"Your Majesty."
His gaze shifted.
A young man had emerged from the castle.
Though born without the black hair and crimson eyes expected of his bloodline and treated as defective because of it—
"You have grown magnificently."
To Reckun, that young man was a far greater ruler than anyone else.
Kind enough to be compared to a messiah.
And even that supposedly unimpressive potential...
"There may be nothing left."
"But there are new things worth protecting."
A knight should never allow his lord to take up a sword personally.
That much was certain.
He had rested long enough.
There were more than enough reasons to burn away his life here.
The things he had been given were far too precious to cast aside.
The moment a black-haired lord had welcomed a ragged orphan into his home—
Crunch.
It was a debt he could never repay, even in death.
"Hoo..."
Reckun steadied his breathing.
His grip tightened around the lance so hard it looked ready to snap.
"Wearing human skin, yet not even worth as much as a rat."
Kraxion sneered.
"How does it feel?"
"To die at the hands of the vermin you looked down upon?"
Perhaps he truly believed the old man had reached his limit.
"The old fool has finally gone senile. I'll put an end to this before you embarrass yourself further."
The mercenary leader laughed mockingly.
At the same time, he genuinely couldn't understand.
Why had the old knight picked up a cavalry lance?
Without a mounted charge, it was an incredibly inefficient weapon.
"If you can..."
Reckun's reply was calm.
"Then try it."
He cared little for the man's words.
"You damned brat."
The old knight pulled his arm and shoulder as far back as possible.
Then inhaled until his lungs could hold no more.
"HRAAAAH!"
He aimed directly at the center of the enemy formation.
And—
BOOM!
He threw the lance.
"...A throw?"
The sheer force behind it tore through the air.
When a knight—essentially a living weapon—performed a feat that ordinary men used against elephants—
THUD!
By the time Kraxion raised his twin axes—
It was already too late.
"Ghk—!"
To be more precise, Reckun's desperate throw pierced straight through both axes and exploded the beast's skull.
BOOOOM!
And even then, the lance still retained momentum.
It continued flying.
Tearing through dozens more mercenaries before finally embedding itself into the earth.
"..."
In the blink of an eye, the mercenary army lost its leader.
Many warriors lost their courage at the impossible sight.
But they would not be given time to recover.
Nor would they be granted the right to leave this land alive.
"Where do you think you're going?"
The berserker, consumed by fury, was not merciful enough to spare those who had pointed blades at his lord.
Blood poured endlessly from the wounds covering his body.
Yet the aura he had cultivated for decades was no illusion.
"Didn't I tell you?"
Aside from the deep wound at his waist, none of his injuries were truly fatal.
"I would tear every last one of you apart."
And now that the great knight had regained his fighting spirit—
There was no reason not to take up his sword once more.
Soon, towering aura blades erupted beyond the castle walls.
Again.
And again.
Each flash triggered massive explosions across the battlefield.
Before long—
Silence descended upon the blood-soaked land.