The Strongest Knight (7)
“Well, if you want to stay even one night in our village, you have to listen to the story, right?”
Sisilia and her group arrived at the Dragon Knight's Village. Desperate to reach Greyslam as quickly as possible, they had pushed on without rest, leaving everyone utterly exhausted. But the village chief was a hardcore lore enthusiast.
“No, no. What’s a few gold coins compared to that? Knowing even one more story tied to this village is what matters.”
“……Sisilia. Looks like we have no choice.”
At Beatrice’s troubled words, Sisilia slumped and nodded limply.
Stories are usually skippable for me.
But skipping wasn’t an option here.
“Fine.”
At Sisilia’s response, the chief crossed his arms with a should’ve said that sooner look on his face.
“Do you know why our village is called the Dragon Knight's Village? Guess right, and I’ll cut the story time by thirty minutes.”
Skip possible? Sisilia’s head snapped up. She rolled her eyes thoughtfully, piecing together her deduction.
I’m a user who’s skipped more stories than anyone.
Underestimating a veteran like her? This NPC was in for it. She’d rob him of his joy in storytelling!
With that mindset, Sisilia declared confidently.
“Correct. It’s a village where a dragon knight lived long ago.”
The chief’s eyes widened.
“Impressive.”
“I got it right?”
“Whoa……”
Aiden was awestruck, and Beatrice blinked in surprise.
……Isn’t that obvious?
But it wasn’t obvious.
“Nope.”
Because she was wrong!
Sisilia deflated instantly, her shoulders slumping.
“To be precise, it’s where a Dragon Knight was from.”
“Aw, so close.”
Sisilia pouted, while Beatrice shot the chief a look full of unspoken words.
“……Isn’t that basically the same thing?”
“Ahem. Alright, then. I’ll tell you the tale. Long, long ago, there was a knight who triumphed over a dragon.”
The chief rummaged through his things and pulled out a cute dragon puppet. In his right hand, he held a knight puppet and made them clash.
“The dragon said, ‘Hey, human. What’s your name?’”
The chief was doing a ridiculous dragon impression. Beatrice’s enthusiasm cooled instantly.
Do we really have to watch this……?
But surprisingly, Sisilia was glued to it. Dragons were her favorite lore.
“The knight replied, ‘You wicked dragon. You tormented the villagers every day—did you really think you were worthy of knowing my name?’”
“Whoa!”
Sisilia’s eyes sparkled. So cool—she’d definitely use that line someday.
……Where exactly is the part to admire?
Beatrice couldn’t comprehend it.
Seeing Sisilia’s interest, the chief got excited and continued.
“The dragon was shocked—he had no idea he’d been tormenting humans. Truth is, this dragon was just a kid. He only visited the village often because he wanted human friends. The humans were the ones who got scared first.”
The chief shrugged.
Sisilia’s heart ached. How scared must that young, cute dragon have been?
“The misunderstanding cleared up, and they became friends. The knight rode the dragon back to the village and spread the news. Our ancestors apologized to the dragon for their misunderstanding and praised the knight. That’s how their friendship began.”
The chief shared various anecdotes of their bond. The story neared its end, and Sisilia was lost in it, oblivious to time passing. (For the record, Aiden and Raoul were already dozing off by now.)
“Time passed, and the knight grew too old to visit the dragon’s lair alone. His dragon friend was heartbroken.”
“So he asked, ‘My dear friend, I know a spell that transcends lifespan. Shall I cast it on you?’”
“The knight was reluctant but nodded under the dragon’s insistent urging.”
“And that’s when the tragedy began.”
Snap.
The chief turned off the light. Sisilia clung to Beatrice, trembling.
“?”
Beatrice was baffled but let it slide because it was cute.
“After the ritual, the knight opened his eyes and realized he was no longer a living human.”
“N-No way.”
“Yes, that no-way. The spell that transcended lifespan? It was black magic that turned the target into an undead. In truth, the dragon had planned it from the moment they met. Realizing he couldn’t win by force, he waited for the knight to age and turned him into a guardian for his lair.”
The chief wagged his finger.
“But that underestimated the knight too much. He broke free of the contract’s bonds and pierced the dragon’s heart. By slaying the deceitful wyrm—who dreamed of world conquest—he protected the people!”
The story ended, and the chief turned the light back on with a satisfied nod.
“That’s the tale of the Dragon Knight—the value this village upholds, the story of the strongest knight.”
He quickly set up a table piled with dragon-themed merchandise.
“Dragon souvenirs, two gold each. Buy one, and you too can be the dragon’s friend!”
“I-I’ll take one!”
Sisilia wagged her tail and snatched a cute dragon puppet. Beatrice faceplanted right there.
It was all a ploy to sell souvenirs after all.
“……Um, but.”
Beatrice raised her hand quietly, sensing a contradiction.
“No matter how you look at it, that’s not a great story. Is selling dragon dolls really okay……?”
The chief grinned and pulled out a basket from below.
“That’s why we sell Dragon Knight souvenirs too. Get one, and protect yourself from that wicked dragon’s curse! Five gold each!”
“I’ll buy it!”
“Don’t!”
Thirty minutes after arriving. Beatrice wanted out of this scam village ASAP.
**
“I apologize for my earlier rudeness.”
Ashumar faced Gallerhead solemnly.
“You’re strong. Not a knight to be dismissed.”
Gallerhead’s blurry vision captured Ashumar. The demon hadn’t even lost his breath. Was it because he was undead, or—did this fight mean nothing to him?
One thing was clear: Gallerhead had reached his limit.
“Cough.”
Gallerhead spat up blood. His ears rang. Never in his life had he been cornered like this.
Too strong. Beyond strong—strong enough to make him doubt if the entire Windsor Knight Order could win.
“You’ve come for Sisilia?”
“Yes. I’d be grateful if you told me her whereabouts.”
“……To fight her?”
“Indeed. I meant to wait for the Butcher’s peak, but I couldn’t hold back.”
Gallerhead steadied his breath, scanning Ashumar. No gaps. Not just now—throughout the fight, not even the tiniest opening.
He’d never faced this before. Even the strongest foes showed momentary flaws in battle.
……Worst matchup. A transcendent being beyond human limits, with swordsmanship at its peak too.
“Caught your breath? Let’s resume.”
“……You knew? That I was stalling.”
“Human flesh is frail. It tires quickly, wounds don’t heal. We must account for that for a fair fight.”
They clashed again. Ashumar mixed blades with Gallerhead, clearly enjoying it.
Sloppy technique. But each move is razor-sharp.
Lightning-fast strikes exchanged, each carrying enough force to shatter a mountain.
Clang—!
But the faster the strikes, the more Gallerhead’s sword grazed Ashumar’s armor. Ashumar was starting to yield in pure swordplay.
The first time in two hundred years.
“Hahaha!”
Ashumar laughed joyfully, leaping back.
Excited, he said, “Human, join me. It’d be a waste for you to die like this.”
“……”
“Human bodies are weak! Lifespans too short to reach swordsmanship’s end, flesh with clear limits! Become a demon like me!”
“……If I become a demon, can I beat you?”
Ashumar’s smile deepened.
“Of course! I’ve waited for someone to surpass me! You, fighting on instinct alone, matching my millennium of swordplay! No human talent like yours exists!”
In truth, Gallerhead could barely hear him. Breath burned his throat. The world spun. Physical limits had arrived.
Strange. It doesn’t feel bad. Why?
This was his most hated scenario: an overwhelming foe.
Yet he felt oddly stable. Like mindlessly chopping logs back then.
—I’m done for, but my kid has to escape this damn tenant farming life, right? Go read books. Or pick up a sword. Talent? Don’t need it. Any free mercenary in the boonies is happier than a tenant farmer.
His mind eased. His father’s faint voice from the past rang clear.
Gallerhead gripped his sword and smiled bitterly.
Dad, I still don’t get it. Even as a knight, I don’t see the difference from tenant farming. Both mean doing what you hate.
“I refuse. No dream lies there.”
“Truly regrettable.”
Slash—!
Gallerhead glanced sideways. His left arm lay severed cleanly.
“……”
He tried swinging his sword right-handed without hesitation. But he couldn’t.
A chill pierced him as Ashumar’s blade impaled his gut.
“A fine fight.”
With a strangely sorrowful tone, Gallerhead vomited blood and sank to his knees.
“I’ll spare you. If you change your mind, seek me again.”
Ashumar turned his back and walked off. His destination was obvious: toward Sisilia.
……Armor and wind don’t mix well, no matter how you slice it.
Gallerhead chuckled. Moments later, his expression hardened, pupils dilating.
—You must dream. A man forges ahead with grand ambition as his compass.
Why had his father, enduring such hardship, insisted on dreaming? Gallerhead had chased that meaning his whole life but failed—until now.
I see. Dad wanted to entrust the future to the next generation.
That wish came true. His greed bought land, sending a tenant farmer’s son to the Windsor Knights.
But if he’d become a mercenary instead? Would Dad be disappointed?
No. He’d smile and say, ‘That’s better.’
It wasn’t the outcome. The act of entrusting the future to the next generation held meaning. That’s why Dad was happy amid hardship.
His foggy mind cleared. Gallerhead’s thoughts were sharper than ever.
The dream’s meaning he’d sought lifelong. He couldn’t dream no matter how hard he tried. No desires, and if any, they were thirty years gone.
But now he knew. He admired his father. If he chose someone to become, it was Dad.
Thus, making Dad’s choice—
Was the dream Gallerhead had sought so long.
I die here and entrust the future to those who come after.
Giving the future to someone. Gallerhead was certain.
I’ve lived for this moment.
“Human.”
Ashumar halted and turned slowly. Gallerhead— one arm gone, gut pierced, alive by miracle alone—approached.
“Why make such a foolish choice?”
Ashumar sighed regretfully. One future pleasure lost.
“You can’t beat me now. You know that. But with time, recovery— who knows? Why discard that chance?”
Gallerhead ignored him. Or seemed unconscious. Sanity frayed.
Ashumar truly regretted it, raising his sword high.
“Very well. I’ll send you off painlessly.”
As he swung—Gallerhead hurled his sword.
Ashumar flinched at the unexpected move, barely blocking.
Clang—!
Ashumar’s massive frame tilted back. Gallerhead had poured every ounce of mana into that throw. Terrifying power—unbelievable he had it left.
But it was blocked. No upset.
Regaining stance to finish him—
Where’d he go?
Gallerhead vanished.
Below.
Ashumar looked down. Gallerhead gripped his ankle fiercely.
The giant toppled. Gallerhead yanked an axe from a nearby log and smashed down.
Bam!
Ashumar hit the ground. Gallerhead pinned his neck with a knee, striking the same spot repeatedly.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
After three hits, Ashumar gritted his teeth, flicking a finger downward. His sword flew up, piercing Gallerhead’s back.
“Urk.”
But Gallerhead summoned his last strength, swinging the axe.
Boom—!
Ashumar shoved him away from the shockwave.
Thud!
Gallerhead crashed through a hut. Ashumar rushed ahead, blocking him.
“……”
Ashumar steadied his breath, wiping his mouth. Gallerhead’s remaining right arm was twisted grotesquely.
Yet Ashumar watched tensely a while longer, then sheathed his sword upon realizing he was spent.
He bowed deeply, formally.
“I salute you. Without this demon god’s breastplate—I’d have lost.”
But Gallerhead stared fixedly. At a clear line in his vision.
A faint crack on Ashumar’s armor side. Sisilia’s wind could enter there.
Please, Sisilia.
Gallerhead closed his eyes peacefully.
Take down Ashumar.
Feels like I’ll have a good dream tonight.