Chapter 162
Chapter 162
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 162
Chapter Title: 51. Roaring Lions of the North (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Count Schrumhilde Shutgart had been recognized for his extraordinary talent with the sword since childhood. He joined the Royal Knight Order at a young age and, at just thirty-five, achieved mastery to claim the position of its youngest-ever commander.
Many knights praised his talent and accomplishments, but some dismissed him, claiming his life had been a smooth, untroubled path.
They mocked him as a flower bloomed in the king's garden, delicately nurtured in the palace without ever knowing hardship.
But contrary to popular belief, his life had been neither smooth nor free of twists and turns.
He had spent his youth battling the empire's covert schemes to turn the Leonberger royal family into puppets, and even in his later years, the empire's machinations left him not a single day of peace.
The times he had slept in a proper bed could be counted on one hand.
In those grueling years, he had slain hundreds of assassins and thugs alike—his spirit more than worthy of the title Silver Lion.
Yet even that unshakeable resolve wavered now.
The horde of monsters swarming the snowfields. The hideous beast mounted on a griffin.
Not a single one failed to exceed his expectations.
Monsters beyond counting. And the sheer presence of their leader...
His skin prickled.
The battle hadn't even begun. Tens of thousands of monsters lay crouched flat on the ground. The beast atop the griffin merely gazed down at the castle.
He couldn't so much as twitch.
It felt like the day he had first faced assassins—as if that same powerlessness had returned. The Old Knight felt it keenly.
But he quickly steadied his heart.
Just as the lord and knights of Winter Castle took pride in defending the north, he took pride in safeguarding the royal family.
He could not let that pride ring hollow before these monsters.
The Old Knight turned to the prince.
He had served as the boy's mentor in his childhood, but it hadn't lasted long. The prince's meager talent and disposition had soon driven him away.
He wasn't the only one. Everyone tasked with the prince's care had abandoned him in the same way.
Even his own father had hated the son, persecuting him and plotting to cast him out of the palace.
It would be no exaggeration to say the prince's youth had been defined by contempt and hatred.
They had feared that such a prince, raised in scorn and loathing, would bring disaster to the kingdom's future. The moment he ascended the throne, the hatred and rage of his childhood would sweep through the realm.
But that wasn't the case.
The prince had spectacularly shed that hatred and contempt.
He had subjugated the rough, hot-tempered lords of the north. He had even stolen the hearts of the kingdom's famed Iron Lions.
In the process, he had wielded the empire's key figures like his own limbs and purged the imperial shadows lurking throughout the palace.
The prince had become indispensable to the kingdom.
'It's not as if I'm trying to play father now. The kingdom needs that boy more than it needs me.'
The king had made that judgment and used it to persuade the Old Knight, who had stubbornly insisted on staying by his side.
'He is the kingdom's future now—the kingdom itself. Protect him. Make sure that reckless boy doesn't fall before he can spread his branches.'
As the king's plea resurfaced in his mind, the Old Knight's head cooled.
His heart, by contrast, burned hotter.
The king had commanded it. Protect the kingdom's future.
That was enough.
The Old Knight gripped his sword.
By his own judgment, his qi alone could not dispel the leader's overwhelming presence.
Before the beast's horrific aura, the four rings he had so proudly cherished amounted to nothing.
But a royal knight did not fight to win. Protecting was enough.
Clink.
The sound of a sword leaping from its sheath pierced his ears.
It wasn't his own. He hadn't drawn yet.
Flash.
A brilliant golden aura spread across the entire wall.
The Old Knight turned toward that auspicious light.
There stood the woman dearest to the prince.
Adelia Bayern, the kingdom's newly minted Silver Lion.
She didn't have even a shred of the bearing one might expect from a Silver Lion. He had thought her better suited to elegantly adorning the palace halls than standing on a battlefield with sword in hand.
She wasn't strikingly beautiful, but her gentle demeanor and poised grace matched the prince surprisingly well—or so he had modestly mused.
Yet that very frail woman was the first to draw her sword.
Hummm.
In that instant, another flash erupted.
This time, it was Arwen Kirguyen.
While the men merely chewed their lips and groaned under the crushing presence, the knight probationers drew their swords and aimed them at the beast.
He could see the men twitching their brows and clenching their jaws.
"Damn it. The women are taking the lead."
Bernard Ilai, heir to the Ilai family, drew his sword and pointed it skyward.
A pale glow poured from his blade, spreading widely across the wall.
That was the signal.
Clink.
The Old Knight drew his own sword.
There was no more hesitation. If anything, the edge had returned to the blade in his heart, dulled by age.
The sword force of his entire lifetime gathered at the tip.
White light burst forth, enveloping the wall.
And so, four masters stood atop the wall, each leveling their swords at the beast.
The beast twisted its lipless mouth.
With its crushed face, the Old Knight couldn't tell what expression it was trying to make.
But the intensifying pressure told him enough: it did not welcome the lights and auras blooming along the wall.
His skin prickled with its rage.
The Old Knight spun his rings even more fiercely. The white light cloaking his beloved sword grew thicker, spreading farther.
The other three masters squeezed their hearts and rings in response, matching his momentum.
Taut tension. A balance on the verge of collapse.
The Old Knight drew forth his qi, resolved to die right here if need be.
Sweat soaked his back. The biting wind's chill assaulted his body. Yet rather than ward it off, he clenched his rings tighter, resisting the beast.
How much time passed?
In reality, mere moments—but it felt like hours.
The one the Old Knight had sworn to protect stepped forward.
Uttering words in a tongue utterly alien to human speech.
『......』
A savage growl, like an orc snarling.
The Old Knight had no idea what language it was or what it meant.
But he could tell it had enraged the beast.
The monster astride the griffin gaped its mouth wide.
But before a roar could burst through its jagged teeth—
"Cannon fire!"
Boom!
The lord of Winter Castle's bellow and the thunderous blasts echoed first.
The mysterious iron contraptions positioned along the wall spat fire.
Black trajectories streaked through the air.
The griffin caught in their path hurriedly beat its wings and ascended.
The shells plummeted harmlessly to the ground.
But in that moment, an arrow from somewhere pierced the griffin's shoulder joint.
The griffin shrieked and staggered. The beast clung to its neck, swaying wildly alongside it.
The monster's arrogant dignity looking down on the castle was gone.
It was merely a monster perched on a thrashing flying beast, struggling not to fall.
Kraaaaaargh!
The beast roared.
"All Winter Castle forces!"
The prince roared back.
The monsters crouched on the snowfields erupted in howls and charged as one. The rangers seized their bows and crossbows.
The iron contraptions clicked and roared, lowering their barrels.
Thud. Thud.
The ground trembled. Snow avalanched from the walls.
"Engage!"
Rough shouts rang out as the rangers loosed their crossbows and longbows.
Sssshhhhh.
Thousands of arrows blotted out the sky.
Pheee!
Amid the sharp whistles, a rain of death tore into the monsters' vanguard.
But the broken ranks were swiftly filled by others.
"Target the ones with ladders and ropes first!"
"Skip the big ones! They won't even stick!"
The rangers' shouts echoed nonstop along the wall. The twang of bowstrings filled the air.
"I'll take the west side!"
"Then I'll handle the east!"
New Silver Lions of the kingdom scattered brilliant lights as they dashed along the wall.
The knights of Winter Castle raised their shields and lined the wall's edge.
"Hah!"
In sync, all manner of objects soared up from below the wall.
Boom!
Explosions boomed from every direction.
But not a single spear or rock thrown by the monsters cleared the wall.
"Hah!"
The knights shouted again, swinging their shields.
Wolves and orc riders scaling the wall were battered back and plummeted.
Grrraaah!
Towering monsters several meters tall bellowed as they hurled axes and boulders.
The shield-bearing knights ducked as one. Knights from the rear leaped onto their backs and shoulders.
Whooo.
The glows clinging to their swords were no joke.
Sword auras worthy of at least three rings.
Boom!
Blasts rang out. The leaping knights blocked the monsters' assaults only to be flung back.
The crouched knights raised their shields again. Behind them, others caught their tumbling comrades.
The rangers didn't flinch as rocks exploded right in front of them or knights were hurled aside.
Not even when wolves crested the wall, jaws snapping.
They simply loosed arrow after arrow like machines.
And the knights shielded them.
"Ah..."
The Old Knight watched in admiration.
It was an unfamiliar sight.
He had never heard or seen precious knights charging the front lines like common soldiers. Knights throwing themselves to protect soldiers was even more unheard of.
Their exemplary leadership left a deep impression.
But at the same time, it worried him.
At this rate, the knights would tire and fall first.
Knight orders had to preserve their peak strength at all times—to step in when needed and fulfill their role.
That was common sense.
But shattering that common sense took little time.
The knights of Winter Castle showed no sign of tiring.
They were like men of iron.
At that moment, the prince approached and explained as if reading his mind.
Winter Castle's knights, who fought battles lasting anywhere from weeks to months once underway, had no choice but to master efficient qi usage and rapid recovery.
The Old Knight let out an exclamation.
They said nothing grew knights faster than real combat—and Winter Castle was living proof.
But no matter how efficiently they managed their qi, knights' mana had its limits. Once they fell, a gap in firepower would open.
"In fact, the frontline knights' momentum has already waned considerably, hasn't it?"
The prince chuckled at the Old Knight's words and glanced back.
"Right on cue for a rotation."
The prince's incomprehensible mutter.
"Frontline, rotate!"
The lord of Winter Castle bellowed at that exact moment.
"Hah!"
The knights locked in fierce combat with the monsters swung their shields hard and fell back as one.
And as if waiting, another wave of knights surged forward, shields and swords at the ready.
The Old Knight's eyes went wide.
He hadn't counted personally, but there were nearly four hundred knights retreating in unison. Yet no gap formed in the line.
That meant an equal number had rotated in.
It was incomprehensible to the Old Knight.
He had heard that even gathering every knight in the north yielded fewer than five hundred—and many had fallen in the recent unrest.
The second prince had confirmed as much.
Yet a knight force nearing a thousand...
"Did you underreport your strength, Your Highness?"
The prince replied nonchalantly.
"Imperial spies were everywhere."
At the prince's words, the Old Knight stood stunned for a moment before bursting into laughter.
Venerable knight orders had crumbled one by one under imperial pressure, leaving the kingdom a lion without teeth.
The day the lions of the north would roar again would never come.
Everyone had said so.
The Old Knight had quietly believed it too.
But no.
In this frozen wasteland unknown to all, a new chapter in the kingdom's history was beginning.
And unlike the humiliating defeats of the past century, this new history would be one of glory and brilliance.
His face flushed with emotion, the Old Knight gazed at the prince.
"It's not over yet."
No sooner had the prince spoken than heat gathered in the air.
It began as a tiny spark.
The spark grew into a fist-sized lump, then ballooned into a fireball larger than a man's head.
The fireball plummeted onto the monsters.
Boom!
The small blaze erupted into an inferno meters high.
Flames surged everywhere.
Ignited monsters screamed and rampaged.
"Looks like quite a few of the nobles' sons they sent had decent talent as mages."
The Old Knight stared wide-eyed at the flames.
Combat magic, unseen for a century since the empire sealed the magic towers.
As the Old Knight marveled at the flames of revived magic, the prince drew his sword and stepped forward.
The three masters who had been slaughtering scattered monsters along the wall fell in behind him.
These young Silver Lions had reached mastery years—even a decade—ahead of him. The Old Knight watched them with thrilled eyes.
Oblivious to his gaze, they whispered among themselves.
"It'll show up any moment now."
"Already?"
Bernard Ilai, the young heir of the Ilai family, tilted his head at the prince's words.
"We just put on a fireworks show in front of a beast that freaks out at fire. It won't be able to stay away."
The words were lost on the Old Knight—and apparently on the others too, judging by the puzzled looks on their faces.
Bernard Ilai suddenly spoke up as if remembering something.
"But what did you say back there, anyway?"
How else could a beast strutting so arrogantly charge in like a wild boar lit on fire?
The prince answered flatly.
"Told it that a scrap spat out by the Fire Dragon has some nerve acting so high and mighty."