Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Collision
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The night city was a place where light and darkness coexisted. Especially in Cligrove. With its massive defensive structures rivaling the capital, stable public order, and prime geographic location, it had grown as a trading hub. That's why the main roads and markets of Cligrove were brightly lit even at night.
But as the saying goes, where there's light in a city, there's also shadow. The alleys, blocked by buildings, were places where even moonlight and starlight couldn't reach. They had devolved into dumping grounds for filth and hotspots for thugs' crimes.
And in one such alley lived a boy. He was just an ordinary slum-dweller selling wilted vegetables he'd grown in a small plot. But at that hour when the bright moonlight ignored the alley, the extraordinary came to him.
"Ugh... Ack..."
The boy, who had been watering his plot even at night, heard a groan while carrying water through the alley. It was a death rattle signaling the end of life, but he didn't know that. Worried someone might be dying in the alley, he headed toward the sound.
"So, what's the conclusion?"
Kyle furrowed his brow at Sir Willum's rambling tale, full of unnecessary details. He'd just asked for a straightforward account of the incident, so why was he reciting witness testimonies like this? Kyle thought the man might have more talent as a novelist than as a guard captain.
"W-Well, just throwing out raw testimonies makes it hard to follow, right? So I added some story to it..."
"Sir Willum... Sorry, but please just stick to the facts."
Willum's face flushed red at the words. It was his old habit—turning explanations into full stories.
"Ahem... The first witness, a boy, said he saw a human figure glowing silver in the alley. The moon was bright, so he could make out the shape."
"I see... And the second witness?"
"My age is getting to me... Ah! A thug. He said he saw the silver wolf from alley rumors."
"A silver wolf, huh..."
As Willum spoke up to that point, he suddenly remembered something he'd forgotten: the perfume his wife had told him to buy. It was a limited edition—you had to line up for it. He hurriedly rummaged through his pockets.
"Sir Lucas, sorry, but something urgent just came up. Look at me, forgetting this."
What he pulled from his pocket was a notebook. It compiled all the testimonies so far. Willum handed it to Kyle.
"This has all the testimonies recorded. You seem interested in the case, so take a look. No need to help—just return it later."
After Willum rushed off, Kyle was left alone in the corner of the garden, notebook in hand.
"I can't read."
The next day, Kyle was buried in deciphering the notebook from Willum. He could ask someone literate, but the people he knew were knights—who were equally illiterate—plus maids, servants, and vanguard swordsmen who couldn't read either.
So he had no choice but to rely on the scraps of knowledge he'd picked up shoulder-surfing while working at the mansion.
"This is 'servant'... wolf... hmm..."
A shadow fell over him.
"What are you doing?"
Edward, commander of Cligrove's knight order—the territory's number three after the count and Lenia—looked down at Kyle with cold eyes.
"Ah... Sir Edward, isn't it?"
A lowly mercenary punk who didn't know his place and was catching the lady's eye. Edward's gaze burned with jealousy and hatred toward Kyle.
"I asked what you're doing."
From his tone, Kyle instinctively sensed Edward harbored no goodwill toward him. He had no idea why— he'd never even met the man before.
The rude, clipped speech grated, but the man before him was one of Cligrove's top power players. Kyle lowered his posture and replied politely.
"I was studying letters, sir."
"Letters?"
"I'm still lacking, but I'm working to live up to the noble name. Sir."
"Does that change your blood? A noble who can't even read."
It was the kind of insult that would make most nobles demand a duel on the spot. But it was far from enough to rile Kyle. He was an Earthling tempered by all sorts of abuse. You'd need at least some family-jab to scratch him.
Still, if the provocation continued, he wouldn't just take it.
"Does that mean you need to read to be a noble?"
"Obviously. If a noble can't read, how's he different from the lowly rabble?"
But there were ways to counter even a superior. Rank against rank, status against status. Crush him with it. And Kyle knew the knights' weak spot.
"If I'm unfit for nobility... then the ancestors of countless houses lacked the qualifications too. Some of them were illiterate, weren't they?"
"What?"
Edward grimaced, realizing he'd just insulted other families' forebears. But hadn't Edward started the provocation? Kyle met his eyes squarely.
Unfortunately, he'd picked the wrong opponent. Edward frowned and drew his sword slightly.
"Are you saying I just insulted other houses?"
"I didn't mean it that way, sir... But if you've taken offense, I apologize."
Kyle bowed with a face that showed zero remorse. Edward's expression twisted.
"Lowly scum..."
He kept dragging it out, needling Kyle in a way he'd never experienced. Finally, he drew his sword fully. Not a formal duel, but time to teach the clueless punk some manners.
"Get on the training ground. Today I'll show you your place."
"I'm a noble too, so that's a bit much, don't you think? Did your parents never teach you?"
At Kyle's words, Edward removed his glove. Mentioning parents was as good as insulting him and his entire house.
"Get up here! Today I'll teach you your place!"
What the fuck is this? Kyle gripped his sword, cursing inwardly. He'd just arrived early for training to study letters—why was he fighting the knight commander?
Honestly, the idiot who'd picked the fight and then charged like a maniac when Kyle snarked back was the real moron. That's what he thought. But the situation was set. He didn't know how it'd go against a knight, but with all the swordsmanship Lenia had taught him, he could at least scrap.
"I'll praise you for not running. Decent courage for a mercenary. Last chance—kneel before me."
"I've done nothing wrong, so why kneel to you? If anyone's kneeling, it should be you, sir."
Edward assumed a stance with his sword. He'd just maim a hand or ankle—no need to kill. That'd snag the lady's attention...
"Sir... now's the time to stop."
Kyle's final warning fell on deaf ears. The training ground filled with savage intent. They stared silently sword in hand for a moment—then Edward moved first.
Clang! Scraaape!
His longsword clashed with Kyle's, scraping fiercely along the blade. An upward sweep from low to high targeted Kyle's gap viciously, but compared to Lenia's, it was lacking. Kyle parried easily and stepped back.
"I'm not holding back anymore."
Sensing Edward's sincerity, Kyle shifted gears. He didn't know why, but real intent deserved the same. He rested his sword on his shoulder and shortened his stance.
Shing! Clang!
Stepping forward, his swing targeted Edward's upper guard with ferocious momentum. In under ten seconds, their blades clashed seven times; they'd shifted feet over ten. Wearing only training clothes—no armor—one mistake meant a fatal wound.
"...What the hell are you?"
After the exchange, Edward glared at Kyle with a stiff face. That massive two-hander moved like a twig.
His skill was mediocre on defense, but speed and power exceeded human limits—enough to fluster Edward. He rotated his numb wrist and bit his lip.
And while he'd called the skill mediocre, Edward knew Kyle had learned Cligrove's style less than two weeks ago.
Had he reached this level in that short time? Attacks were clumsy, but he wielded reach and weight freely, footwork was skilled, defense knight-level perfect.
If he knew Kyle was holding back his strength, he'd suspect a devil's pact.
"Baron Lucas Kyle, sir."
"That's not what I asked. That swordsmanship..."
But a cold voice cut between them.
"What is this?"
It was Lenia. Arriving at the training ground, she hardened at the tense atmosphere and eyed Edward. Both sheathed hastily.
"I asked what this is about, Sir Edward."
"...Sir Lucas insulted me."
"Insulted you? Is that true, Kyle—no, Sir Lucas?"
Why was he 'Sir Edward' and that punk just 'Kyle'? Edward ground his teeth. No matter the scum's talent, he was the loyal one.
"Lady, I was here early for training. Since it wasn't time yet, I was studying letters to build noble refinement. Then Sir Edward... mocked my illiteracy and brought up my origins."
Kyle's aggrieved face screamed victimhood. Edward boiled at it but held his tongue, thinking.
"Sir Edward! Is Sir Lucas telling the truth?!"
"...Yes. But..."
"But what? Answer honestly on your noble honor."
"........."
Noble honor. It sealed Edward's lips. He hated admitting it, but he'd started it. Lying now would stain the honor he prized.
"Edward!"
"I misspoke to Sir Lucas."
He couldn't lie. Edward bowed before Kyle.
"Sorry about that, Sir Lucas. I must have slipped."
No remorse in his voice. Lenia frowned, but Kyle smiled and offered his hand.
"Even you must slip sometimes, sir. I understand."
"........."
"Let's end it here. It wasn't that big a deal anyway. Better for both of us, right?"
"Tch..."
Face lost, Edward stormed off the training ground without a word.
"I'll discipline Sir Edward later. Who knew he'd act so unnoble."
Alone with Kyle now, Lenia spoke with disappointment. He'd never been like this before. Why only show this side lately?
"Haha, everyone slips sometimes."
But Kyle laughed it off. He knew fretting every minor beef meant a short life. Whether clashing blades sincerely counted as minor was another matter.