Crisis Comes Unexpectedly (2)
A wyvern came into view.
The first 'real' powerful monster I'd faced since transmigrating into this romance fantasy novel. The overwhelming pressure made my young body tremble uncontrollably, against my will.
No matter that my mind was that of an adult, or that I'd grown cocky from hunting weaklings like goblins and convincing myself I was used to this world. The moment I faced a true predator, that flimsy confidence shattered into nothing, like an illusion exposed.
I forced my chattering teeth and shaking body to still.
This was on a whole different level from goblins I could toy with even as a talented kid. A terror threatening my very survival crushed me from all sides.
"Young master, get a grip."
Kalia's low voice pierced through as she noticed my state. Her cool, steady tone gradually quelled the fear creeping in.
Right—Kalia's with me.
The title of squire wasn't handed out lightly. There might be differences in skill, but anyone at squire level should handle a single wyvern just fine.
And maybe I was overreacting since this was my first 'real' monster.
I steadied my ragged breathing and decided to trust Kalia. With fear somewhat eased from my eyes, I stared straight at the reality before me.
Suddenly, entries from the monster encyclopedia I'd seen in the mansion library flashed through my mind. In this dull romance fantasy world without even smartphones, I'd killed time flipping through the one subject that mildly interested me.
A world where legendary dragons actually existed—what red-blooded guy wouldn't be drawn to that?
So I'd read up, including clear details on their lesser kin like wyverns. That's why this felt so off.
The wyvern descending with the moonlight at its back was far larger and more grotesque than the illustrations. Coarse, tough hide, razor-sharp claws, and the ominous whoosh of wings slicing the air.
But on closer look, something was wrong. Its eyes were too bloodshot for a normal predator, and it seemed to fly straight at us from afar, like we were its target.
Did it really just get lost and come down here?
As doubt rose, Kalia spoke.
"Something's off."
She was eyeing the wyvern suspiciously too, sensing the same incongruity. Wyverns normally lived in the steep cliffs of the forest's central region, not here. They rarely left their territory, and even then, they didn't descend to the forest outskirts.
Dismissing it as bad luck didn't cut it—too many suspicious points. And crucially, wyverns weren't nocturnal.
But analyzing it now changed nothing. Here, only Kalia could face that beast.
She met my eyes, looking down at me from her much taller height, fully grasping the situation.
"Young master, retreat with the soldiers."
"……."
What she said was basically 'run away.' Powerlessness tightened my fists.
I knew it. There was nothing I could do right now, and throwing a childish tantrum would only hinder, not help.
"I'll finish it quick and catch up."
Unaware of my inner turmoil, Kalia just fixed me with resolute eyes, waiting for my confirmation.
Before her unyielding will, I finally unclenched my fists.
"……Yeah. I trust you."
The words barely left my mouth before Kalia drew her sword and shot toward the wyvern.
"Is that really a human body that can't use mana…?"
I muttered unconsciously, watching her receding back. The force of her leap and the way she cleaved the air made my earlier worries seem embarrassing—she was overwhelming.
I snapped to attention and ordered the soldiers to abandon camp and move out. Staying would do no good; it'd just hold Kalia back.
The best I could do was get the troops out intact.
Focus on what I can do.
A bit further down, we'd reach the barony where we'd left the horses. Requesting reinforcements there was far wiser for any contingencies.
The soldiers moved efficiently, escorting me along the retreat path.
But the column halted soon after. Excluding the rear where Kalia fought the wyvern, monsters poured in from both directions ahead, herding us like prey.
Escape routes sealed. Grotesque monster cries echoed from all sides, tightening the encirclement.
A terrified young soldier's shout rang out, but I'd already assessed the situation.
"Young master!"
I knew. There was nowhere to run now.
Better to hold here and face them head-on than turn tail like rats and get picked off one by one.
I swallowed my trembling breath and planted the tip of my drawn sword firmly in the ground. Though my body was just nine years old, my voice carried a chilling authority.
"Everyone, draw your swords."
The escorting soldiers' gazes snapped to me. Bewilderment in their eyes sharpened into the keen edge befitting Valenvalt troops at my firm command.
I'd wondered if anyone would take a nine-year-old kid's orders seriously in a crisis, no matter how close we'd grown. But it was just my unfounded worry.
The soldiers drew in unison.
"Orders received!"
They responded instantly to my voice. No hint of doubt in their eyes. They saw me not as a helpless child to protect, but as the true commander leading them through life and death.
To them, perhaps the name 'Valenvalt' was more than a surname—like a religion.
After a split-second silence, the soldiers exhaled roughly and formed ranks. The dull thud of shields clashing shattered the forest's quiet.
Looking at the backs of those who'd trusted me and drawn steel, I swallowed the bitter saliva in my mouth.
Past-life memories and this body's genius talent. Right now, I had to pour everything I had into it.
With scraping sounds, soldiers began cutting down monsters. Outnumbered, but the Valenvalt troops' momentum had hardened far beyond before.
I gripped my sword tighter, glaring at the monsters closing the noose.
If they believed in me, I had to live up to it.
Honestly, my modern sensibilities screamed to run in terror. But I couldn't.
If I fled, this fragile chain of command would collapse.
A novel protagonist might ditch them and bolt—extras weren't worth risking for, after all.
But I couldn't. These guys had approached me despite the class divide, during that boring week after transmigrating.
I couldn't abandon them and save myself. And solo survival wasn't guaranteed anyway.
So why not pool our strength? Could be self-justification. But I'd chosen.
"Not one step back from here!"
I shouted like self-hypnosis, channeling mana into my palm. Cool mana surged through my veins.
My young body hadn't fully formed a mana core, but the instinctively summoned power wrapped my hand in blue light.
"Of course! A resolve worthy of the Valenvalt name!"
Hans reacted first to my cry. It sparked a strange vitality through the deathly formation.
"Haha! Then I need a resolve too. If we make it back, I'll confess to Mary for sure!"
Ron's pure 'death flag' utterance made me flinch involuntarily. Every webnovel reader knew that taboo.
'I'll confess after this battle.'
Too late to take it back, and dousing the hard-won morale wasn't an option.
Fearful soldier faces now glimmered with faint hope.
"Hahaha! That's romantic. Ron, you've got one more reason to survive now!"
Their rough laughter echoed through the silent woods. Clichéd to some, but in this death trap, it was the strongest survival fuel.
Protecting Ron's modest dream of confessing to Mary and beating the death flag—that was my real resolve as their commander now.
His age being close to my pre-transmigration one tugged extra at my heart.
I steeled myself and extended that razor-sharp mana sense toward the monsters closing in.
Their crude movements etched into my retinas like slow motion.
A silver wolf burst from the pack, lunging for my nape. My body reacted before my brain, cloaked in Valenvalt dignity and the obsession to protect my people.
I twisted sideways like paper, dodging its fangs.
"Hup!"
No hesitation in the follow-up. I drove mana-infused, glowing blue sword into the silver wolf's exposed flank.
Slice!
A chillingly precise sensation traveled up my wrist. Blood droplets scattered midair from the blade that severed its waist in one stroke.
A nine-year-old's strength couldn't have traced that arc, but mana fused with innate talent sliced through tough hide and bone like butter.
One dodge and breath: silver wolf down.
No time to savor the rush or adrenaline. My mind already calculated the next target; my body moved mechanically.
No shake for the bloodied sword—I charged the goblin lurking nearby for an opening.
"KEEK?!"
It flailed its crude dagger in panic, but to me, it was a stationary bullseye.
The weighted sword carved a cold arc through the air, slitting its throat.
Two strikes. In that brief instant, I'd felled a silver wolf and goblin back-to-back. Unlike before, I thought, This is doable.