Chapter 105
Chapter 105
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 105
Chapter Title: Night Visitor
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"Guhk... Guh..."
In the dead of night when everyone was asleep, the only ones guarding the manor were a soldier dozing off at his post and an officer snoring beside him. No one else was around. After all, no one in the territory held a grudge against Kyle anymore.
But that complacency had now become poison. Arthur, who had been silently watching the drowsy soldiers from the shadows, vaulted over the wall like a hawk.
Thud!
Even though his massive frame—over 190 centimeters tall—leaped and landed on the ground, the only sound was a soft thud. It was ghostly balance and agility.
'Lucky. If security had been tight, I might've had to kill one or two.'
Arthur was the illegitimate son of Count Osland—and the son of a slave at that. Things might have been slightly better if his mother had been a commoner or low noble. But as the son of a slave, he received no care or protection.
The only reason he'd survived this long was his innate talent for combat. Before even reaching adulthood, he could thrash six ordinary soldiers at once. That prowess caught the count's eye, and Arthur was raised as the count's hound.
Kill when ordered to kill, abduct when ordered to abduct—he was the count's loyal dog. He could have run away anytime. But he believed himself to be the count's true son and rightful heir, so he served quietly, building his foundation from the shadows.
Sure, he couldn't win over knights or nobles, but the bottom ranks had their own advantages. He was popular among the soldiers, respected for his skills and charisma.
And today, after clashing with Kyle, Arthur thought he'd found a potential patron: a man from lowly origins who had risen through martial might alone and overwhelmingly defeated him.
Logically, he should request a formal meeting. But to maintain his cover as Count Osland's faithful hound, he couldn't approach openly. Besides, he wanted to show the full extent of his abilities that he hadn't displayed in their earlier duel.
'I want to fight him all out one last time.'
Using his main weapon and giving his all. If he lost here too... and if Kyle proved magnanimous enough to embrace him...
It would be enough to claim the Osland family and serve him as lord. That's what Arthur thought. Sure, it was laughable for a count to follow a viscount, but so what? Viscount Lucas Kyle had the potential to rise even higher.
Creak—
The lord's bedroom window was deliberately left unoiled, a precaution against potential assassins. But Arthur, experienced with such measures, opened it silently.
The moment he stepped inside, a sword slashed at him from the darkness.
****
I woke at dawn. The moon was hidden behind clouds, plunging everything into pitch black. Sensing a presence outside the window, I grabbed the sword I'd kept by my side.
Creak—
As I gripped the hilt and stared toward the window—which I hadn't latched—it opened quietly. The fact that the unoiled window, which always squeaked, opened without a sound meant the intruder was an expert. A professional thief or assassin.
The intruder had likely acclimated his eyes to the dark beforehand. Focusing my vision to adjust, the faint outlines of the room gradually sharpened. Then I spotted the man climbing through the window.
The intruder was huge. As he ducked to clear the frame, I sprang from bed and swung at him as he raised his head.
Clang!
Sparks flew as metal met metal, illuminating the dark room. In that flash, I recognized the face.
"Viscount Aston?"
"Lord Viscount Lucas."
"Not a viscount—a rat."
He shook his head at my scornful words and shouted,
"Please hear me out!"
"What do you have to say?"
"...My name is Arthur. Viscount Aston is just a false identity. I came to speak with you, my lord."
Arthur—no, Aston—had barged in at night and immediately asked me not to light any lamps. He seemed so desperate, and he'd set down his axe first, so I held off attacking.
I crossed my arms in a "let's hear it" gesture. He bowed his head and began spilling his story into the darkness.
A bastard. Common as dirt in this world. Nobles normally had two or three. But most died young, eliminated to avoid future threats during succession struggles.
He claimed to be Count Osland's bastard, surviving only as the count's hound. Few knew his true identity, but he said there was someone who could vouch for it.
"Who?"
"The head maid. She cared for my mother until the end."
A head maid was treated almost like a retainer. Her testimony would make proving his lineage much easier. Not ironclad, but helpful.
And on top of that, he revealed Count Osland was teaming up with Viscount Wayne to target my magic beast ranch.
"So... Viscount Wayne picked a fight on purpose? To create a pretext?"
"Yes. And there's someone else pulling the strings."
One name came to mind at "pulling the strings." The merchant leader I'd fleeced recently—the woman called Baroness Cassia. I'd suspected as much.
"That merchant, Baroness Cassia?"
"You knew?"
"Roughly. Her eyes weren't innocent. I let her go because she was a noble, but her grudge runs deep, it seems."
Arthur promised to repay any help. He even offered connections to Viscount Wayne's people.
But why trust him? An unofficial bastard with no noble backing—could he really claim the count's seat with my support? And even if he did, what proof would he remember my favor?
Sensing my doubt, he hurriedly added,
"I haven't just been the count's dog. As I mentioned, I've been working the ranks—the soldiers support me. In skill and popularity..."
"Skill? Frankly, yours was average. At that level, the count's house must have dozens."
Calling a knight "average" was harsh, but objectively, this bastard son was just a standard knight. Cligrove had dozens; he'd fit right in without issue.
To my blunt words, he paused, then pointed to the axe he'd set down earlier.
"I can prove my skill here. If you give me the chance..."
****
Click!
I donned my armor. Arthur put on the suit I'd had a soldier fetch at his request—but without revealing his presence. I'd just said I needed armor for an experiment. Then, in the dim room, our duel began.
Boom!
Ax and sword clashed with an explosive roar. Had he taken some drug? His power and speed were worlds apart from the earlier fight. Even his technique was flawless. Wielding the axe with mastery, as if declaring it different from his prior poleaxe style.
Clang! Kang!
His axe moved fluidly. Smoother and far more domineering than with the poleaxe. Using his whole body flexibly, he chained attacks with endless variation. It felt like he was truly out for blood, not sparring—though still far below that elf.
Krunch!
I dodged the blade by a hair's breadth; the axe demolished my bed. Damn it... that was expensive. Voices called urgently from outside at the noise.
"My lord! May we enter?"
"No! Stay out! Keep everyone away!"
I paused the fight to send the soldiers off. Arthur halted his swings and bowed.
"Thank you. For honoring my request."
"No need for thanks. Once this ends, you'll need to show me proof I can trust."
"You won't be disappointed!"
The axe whistled through the air, slashing viciously at me. I parried, sparks scraping along the blade as it met my sword.
But by slightly raising the hilt, the axe blade riding my sword was caught. The parrying hook, designed to protect the hands, performed perfectly.
With the blade snagged, his relentless chain paused. In that split second, I kicked his exposed knee.
"Kuhk!"
I didn't kick full force—his knee would've shattered. But the impact staggered him back.
"Impressive strength indeed. I've never been outmatched in power anywhere else."
He humbly downplayed himself. His claim meant exactly that—no one but me had ever overpowered him.
And right now, my mental ranking of the strong was shifting.
Previously: 1st, the elf captain in red armor; 2nd, Lenia; 3rd, Edward. Now, Arthur took 3rd. I wasn't sure of the gap between true Edward and Arthur.
Each block sent heavy shocks through my sword. Axe strikes flowing like water. Regardless, Count Osland must have gotten plenty of use from this man. That's why he'd kept him alive.
"I see why Count Osland spared you."
"That'll be his mistake."
With that, he raised his axe again and charged with a massive step. The blade whooshed coldly through the air.
Missing, he twisted into a horizontal sweep. The edge grazed my gauntlet, jarring my arm. But a miss exposes an opening. I lunged into it, swinging hard.
Clang!
"Ngh!"
He blocked the overhead strike, bending his knees to absorb the impact. But as he extended to counter, Arthur staggered, letting out a dismayed grunt.