The Strongest Knight (3)
“……Who the hell are you?”
Aiden grabbed the suspicious figure by the collar. The “something” that he’d expected to effortlessly seize his hand instead spoke in surprise.
“You’re not slothful at all, are you?”
“There’s never been a single slothful day in my life. More importantly, reveal your identity.”
Aiden had no intention of letting this obviously shady bastard go.
Could this be one of those demons I’ve only heard about?
He’d never encountered a demon in his life. But even at first sight, he was certain this “something” in front of him wasn’t human.
Maybe—one of the ones who gave power to Lancaster.
The Hofen family had been the lineage of a former Sword Saint. Their swift downfall was due to Lancaster’s inexplicable power. They hadn’t been that strong originally. Yet at some point, Lancaster had grown mighty. And they all said—
“We received power from our lord.”
He’d initially thought it referred to Lancaster or York, but the talk of receiving power suggested a connection.
If that was true.
……I can’t let it escape.
“You’re more surprising than expected. You don’t seem slothful, but your desire to grow stronger is intense.”
“Strength that isn’t from my own power and will means nothing.”
“Hahaha! What an amusing human. Power? Power has no will. It’s merely an absolute standard. To cling to such illusions—you are slothful after all.”
Aiden sensed killing intent in an instant and hurriedly shoved the “something” away, leaping back. A trickle of cold sweat ran down his cheek.
If I’d been even a moment slower just now, I’d be dead.
It was a situation he’d faced countless times in spars with Sisilia. She’d stare blankly, doing nothing—then an invisible wooden sword would strike from a blind spot. With no visible attack, evasion relied on instinct alone. Aiden read it through the flow of air. Before a lethal blow—
The air’s flow felt subtly different.
That’s what the “something” had just done. For a split second, the air around him grew heavy.
Shing—
Aiden drew his sword and gripped it firmly with both hands.
“You asked who I am? Since you inquired, it’s only polite to answer.”
The “something” gave a leisurely smile and bowed politely.
“I am one of the Seven Deadly Sins, Sloth.”
“……!”
“I was drawn here by the scent of sloth wafting from afar.”
Sloth straightened from his bow. Crack— Bones shattered as his frame transformed. From an ordinary adult male build, he grew towering, forcing Aiden to crane his neck upward.
Gulp.
Faced with an unreal sight he’d never imagined, Aiden’s legs trembled.
“Now then, why don’t you die for me?”
Sloth extended his nails long and slashed.
Blocking that means death.
Aiden abandoned defense and rolled aside.
Boom!
Three lines scarred the spot where he’d stood. Could he have blocked with his sword? Aiden kept picturing himself bisected while holding it.
“Ho, dodging that? Your instincts are better than expected. Or is it just luck?”
Sloth tilted his head. Eastern humans were slothful compared to other regions. They usually tried blocking and got cleaved in two—a standard pattern. But this one was different.
“Doesn’t matter either way. Still, a favor: put on a good show. Thrash around enough for me to enjoy.”
Sloth clenched a fist. He pulled his right hand far back, left extended.
Aiden took a deep breath, eyes sharpened like blades on Sloth. Sword aimed, he circled warily, face grim. Sisilia’s advice flashed through his mind.
—In life, you’ll face foes far stronger than you, Aiden.
Exactly this situation.
—When that happens, don’t hesitate for a second.
Aiden twisted his foot.
And—
—Run.
He turned and bolted.
—Running isn’t shameful at all. What’s truly shameful is clinging to pride, throwing away your life, and forsaking the one path to victory.
“Wha—no way—”
Sloth stared dumbfounded at Aiden fleeing. The intensity had screamed epic battle, yet it fueled a full retreat. Not even out of fear.
“Sigh, humans, huh. How can they live such slothful lives?”
Sloth curled into a ball. He eyed Aiden’s direction precisely. Futile. With his body as the weapon, flight was meaningless—especially turning your back.
It was begging to die.
“Won’t change the outcome anyway.”
As Sloth surged forward—
“Hey there.”
Tap tap. Someone poked his shoulder.
“Sorry, I’m busy right now. Reports can wait—”
……I didn’t bring any minions.
The thought hit late. Sloth whipped around.
A silver-haired girl blinked at him. Gentle winds swirled nearby.
“No presence at all. Who the hell are you?”
Sisilia stared blankly at Sloth, then spoke.
“You’re Sloth, so why aren’t you slothful?”
(For the record, Sisilia rarely answered demons’ questions. Freya was cute, so exempt.)
“What the—”
“Exactly. The Seven Deadly Sins must stick to their concepts more than any demon.”
Sisilia’s hair and clothes whipped in fierce winds. Her silver eyes took on a blue tint. Overwhelming mana choked Sloth.
“Chasing a runner that diligently? That’s not—”
Sisilia shook her head slowly, incredulous.
“Sloth.”
Whoosh!
Her sword slashed like lightning. Sloth bent backward nearly in half. Trees in the forest sheared evenly where he’d stood.
“……!”
Sloth backflipped repeatedly, widening the gap. No big motion, yet his breath reached his throat. He wiped his mouth amid ragged gasps, then grinned.
“You’re strong. Stronger than any human I’ve seen.”
“And a martial artist, no less. Martial artists symbolize effort. How’d you get the moniker Sloth?”
“State your name. You’ve earned the right to hear mine.”
“Change it. Not Seven Deadly Sins Sloth—Seven Deadly Praises All-Diligence.”
She’s not listening at all.
Sloth backed away. Sisilia advanced slowly, visibly pissed. He glanced around. Past severed trees, into dense forest.
No problem. In here, I won’t lose.
That was Sloth’s plan. Fighting her on open ground was suicide. Fortunately, the foolish human strode right into his domain, oblivious.
“I respect your strength in that frail human body and the judgment not to bandy words with demons. But—that’s it.”
Step.
As Sisilia entered the thick woods, Sloth launched. Whoosh—whoosh—
He bounded tree to tree at speeds no human eyes could track.
Sloth circled Sisilia at unbelievable velocity.
She halted, glancing around.
Done.
Sloth was sure she’d lost him.
Thud!
In that instant, he kicked off a massive trunk full-force, swinging a fist.
“!”
But just before impact, Sisilia turned her head slightly. Her eyes locked dead on him.
H-how—!
Sloth knew human bodies’ frailty well. That speed was beyond human specs. Even the strongest relied on instinct. Pinpointing and staring like that—impossible.
“Like a fly.”
“!”
Sisilia seized Sloth’s nape and slammed him into the ground with all her might.
Bam!
“Gahk—!”
As the tremendous impact bounced him up, she snatched and smashed him down again.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Boom—!
After countless repetitions, Sisilia hoisted him by the collar with expressionless eyes.
“Why are you here? And your connection to Four Heavenly Kings Ashumar—spill it.”
Sloth’s eyes rolled back, blood trickling from his mouth. His organs were mush, body limp. But Sisilia said coldly:
“Not a bear—why play dead?”
“Kuh, kuhehe—”
Crushed innards, severed tendons. A human would scream and die instantly—but demons, especially a Sin, were different.
“Impressive, truly. Such a strong human—he will be pleased.”
“Lady Sisilia—!”
Beatrice arrived late. Sisilia kept eyes on Sloth.
“Perfect timing, Betty. Activate your Extreme Art. But Valhalla’s target is a demon, not human.”
Then—
Sloth jerked his head up, grabbing Sisilia’s arm. She didn’t flinch, tightening her grip on his throat.
In that moment—Sloth swapped his head and hand positions.
Slice!
He severed his own hand and fled at speed. Sisilia had already ducked behind Beatrice to avoid blood.
“…….”
Drenched in demon blood, Beatrice glanced at her soaked blonde hair, then hurriedly invoked her Aura to pursue.
But Sisilia grabbed her nape, halting her. Beatrice’s lip quivered as she eyed Sisilia.
“Lady Sisilia?”
“No need to chase.”
Sisilia gazed Sloth’s way.
“More than interrogation, I want to check if Gallerhead’s sword has dulled.”
* * *
“To think such a brutish human existed.”
Sloth, barely clinging to life, confirmed Sisilia wasn’t following and clutched his severed arm’s stump. Losing an arm was no big deal for a demon—but his body was already totaled, and swapping head and hand was taxing even for him.
“Any slothful humans around?”
Fortunately, the Demon God seemed to favor him. In his view, a human chopped wood before a cabin.
“Perfect. Sturdy one. Won’t die from ordinary torture—plenty of emotions to devour.”
Closer, the stench of sloth poured in, healing him somewhat.
“Don’t you need power? Absolute power, no strings attached.”
Gallerhead, splitting logs, glanced at Sloth and sighed deeply.
“Can’t you just leave?”
“Hahaha! Afraid not. I’m famished right now.”
Up close, a knight. But this’ll do. Can’t even split logs properly.
Gallerhead’s split wood was cracked, but uneven. Anyone decent with a sword “slices” evenly, not smashes.
“Serious request. I don’t want to fight. Exhausted after playing with my mentor’s daughter.”
“Ho, overreaching with effort. But no worries. My power lets you live slothfully forever. No more striving.”
“Absolute power, no cost.”
Gallerhead smiled bitterly.
“Got plenty of that already.”
“……What?”
“Exactly.”
Gallerhead casually grabbed a midsize log splinter from the pile.
“Gonna fight me with that?”
Sloth went from absurd to enraged. But Gallerhead assumed stance with just the wood—sloppy, amateurish.
Fury boiled over. Sloth charged, thrusting at Gallerhead’s gut.
But.
“That’s it.”
“…….”
Sloth’s handblade halted just shy. His body froze.
Gallerhead’s splinter already touched his jaw.
“I’ve always seen gaps in everything. Strike them, and it’s always fatal.”
Gallerhead eyed Sloth calmly.
“Demon. Care to explain? Why the gap under your jaw—and why striking it leaves you helpless?”
But despite the words, no reply came.
Gallerhead muttered helplessly, face blank.
“Already dead.”
Sloth crumbled to ash.