Chapter 50
Chapter 50
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Mounted Combat (3)
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The moment Demian severed the troll's neck, Abel unconsciously clenched his fist.
It was such a bold scene that it excited even the ever-composed Abel.
Even as a low-class monster, trolls were no easy opponents.
With their feral savagery unique to monsters, endless regenerative abilities, and monstrous strength to boot.
One wrong move, and even low-class trolls could turn the tables on you.
Yet Demian had dispatched one with a single stroke.
“Abel, your brother…… he's truly remarkable.”
Even Lady Olivia stared at the arena with a face full of astonishment.
Seeing his brother earn such acclaim brought a smile to Abel's lips unbidden.
“Good heavens! In all my life, I've never seen such technique!”
Count Copperhead shot up from his seat, shouting.
“Abel! What breed is that horse? What kind of steed moves so lightly?”
Count Copperhead turned to Abel with the question. Abel felt his words catch in his throat.
‘……Come to think of it, isn't that a draft horse?’
If Abel's memory served, it was definitely one of the draft horses raised by the Viscount Haksen household.
Normally used for plowing fields or hauling heavy loads.
‘But how can it move like that?’
Abel couldn't string words together in his confusion. At that moment, Count Copperhead grabbed Abel's hand.
“You seem at a loss for words! Still, please convey this to Sir Demian: sell me that horse! I'll pay any fortune for it!”
“No…… that's…….”
“Or could you lend it as a stud? I beg you!”
Abel's eyes spun at Count Copperhead's pleading.
In the meantime, Demian succeeded in hunting down the remaining two trolls.
Thus, Demian concluded the first mounted combat with an overwhelming score.
* * *
“Brother! You were incredible today!”
The moment they returned to their quarters, Abel shouted at Demian.
It was unlike the usually calm Abel.
“I knew your swordsmanship was exceptional, but I had no idea you handled horses so masterfully!”
“Hey now, it was more than masterful. Riding up the troll's arm and slicing it clean off with one stroke! I guarantee even the half-human, half-beast centaur subrace couldn't pull that off.”
Not just Abel—even Victor chimed in excitedly.
Demian let out a chuckle as he watched the two.
“More importantly, did you get close to Lady Olivia?”
Abel made an awkward face.
He'd been so fixated on Demian's performance that he hadn't exchanged many words with Lady Olivia.
To change the subject, Abel recounted the day's events.
“By the way, Brother, His Excellency the Count wants to buy the horse you rode. If not, he asked to borrow it as a stud.”
“What? Why would he want that draft horse?”
“Pardon? So it really was a draft horse?”
Abel exclaimed in surprise.
“But how did it move so nimbly? Everyone thought it was some premium breed.”
“That's because this brother's skills are that superior.”
Demian pointed to himself as he spoke.
Abel shot Demian an incredulous look.
The horse's movements in the arena were beyond what any rider's skill could achieve.
What draft horse in this world could run along a monster's arm?
“……Yes, I understand.”
But Abel chose not to press further.
Demian just might be capable of it, he thought.
“Shall I explain it that way to His Excellency the Count?”
“No, that won't do.”
From what Demian said, the Count seemed desperate for the horse.
Their relations with the Count were at a peak right now. There was no good reason to refuse such an earnest request.
“I can't sell the horse, but tell him I'm willing to lend it as a stud.”
The horse had moved that way purely thanks to Demian.
Selling it outright would expose the truth immediately. But lending it as a stud posed no issue.
If a mediocre foal resulted, it would be the Copperhead household's fault for failing to raise it properly—not Demian's.
“Make sure to emphasize that he pays a fair price, though.”
It would also help fill the family coffers.
* * *
The next day, the second mounted combat took place.
-Krurrruk!
-Krurrr.
Today's monsters were orcs.
Over three dozen orcs snarled from behind iron bars.
The knights eyed the orcs with tense expressions.
Compared to trolls, orcs weren't particularly formidable monsters.
But their terror emerged in group battles.
The heat of battle, the deaths of kin, the enemies' killing intent.
When those converged, orcs unleashed their savagery and went berserk.
A berserk orc fought on heedless of severed limbs, slaying foes.
Hence their nickname: berserkers.
“Then begin!”
With the Count's shout, the iron bars opened. The orcs charged the knights en masse.
The knights prepared to charge the orcs in turn. But someone surged ahead first.
“It's Sir Demian!”
“Demian! Demian!”
The nobles who recognized Demian Haksen erupted in cheers.
Demian ignored the knights and plunged straight into the orc horde.
As he passed through them, a flash gleamed. Three or four orcs had their necks slit in the blink of an eye.
-Krurruk!
The orcs swung clubs to seize Demian.
As if anticipating it, Demian yanked the reins.
Incredibly, the horse sidestepped, evading the orc attacks.
“Th-that…….”
“A horse can move like that?”
Ordinary horses could only charge forward.
Moving laterally by crossing legs required exceptional talent—and couldn't be taught through training.
The horse dodged clubs this way and that at Demian's command.
Demian swung his blade in sync with the horse's movements. Each swing claimed an orc's life.
-Krurrruk!
An orc leaped at Demian's back, resolved to die taking him down.
Demian didn't even glance back, issuing a command to the horse.
The horse twisted, lashing out with its hind legs. The hooves crushed the orc's jaw.
Its jawbone shattered, sending the orc flying far away.
-Krurruk!
-Krurr…….
In the blink of an eye, nearly twenty kin lay slaughtered. The orcs no longer charged Demian.
They only retreated warily, faces full of caution.
“Charge! Annihilate the orc scum!”
At last, the belated knights attacked the orcs.
The orcs, already broken in spirit, fell with ease.
Demian sheathed his sword. He'd already slain more than enough.
Thus, the second match ended in Demian Haksen's overwhelming dominance.
* * *
“Demian! Demian!”
When the second match concluded, the nobles chanted only Demian's name.
The remaining knights withdrew from the arena with frustrated faces.
‘Damn it.’
Jackson Cutter was among them.
‘That spoiled brat I beat and who bawled like a baby…….’
Jackson Cutter had come here to gain fame.
But far from achieving his goal, he was being shunned by all.
He was furious. The rage was unbearable.
Yet what stung Jackson Cutter more was the sense of defeat budding in his heart.
Demian Haksen's feats yesterday and today were astounding.
Even Jackson Cutter had to admire them.
He honestly felt he couldn't even imitate Demian Haksen.
‘Impossible. That worm stronger than me?’
He refused to accept it.
But deep down, he already knew it was true.
That only fueled his rage further.
“Where's Sophia?”
Jackson Cutter vented by mentioning Sophia.
Yesterday, she'd come to greet him right after the mounted combat. Today, she was nowhere to be seen.
Jackson Cutter headed to the stands to find Sophia Russell.
“Waaah! Demian! Demian Haksen!”
He spotted her immediately—Sophia Russell, cheering Demian Haksen's name.
“…….”
In that instant, something snapped in Jackson Cutter's mind.
* * *
Sophia Russell couldn't tear her eyes from Demian Haksen.
He'd looked dashing beheading the troll on the first day, but today was even more impressive.
Massacring over three dozen orcs single-handedly was something no one else could do.
“Sir Demian! Look this way!”
“Sir Demian! Sir Demian!”
The other nobles seated nearby also fervently chanted Demian Haksen's name.
Watching the crowd, Sophia Russell felt a surge of pride.
If only they knew.
That Demian Haksen had been so obsessed with her.
“Haa…… Sir Demian…… where did such a man come from?”
“I've made up my mind. I'll ask Father to arrange a marriage proposal with the Viscount Haksen family.”
The voices that followed soured her mood instantly.
‘A marriage proposal? Ridiculous. Who does that ugly girl think she is?’
Since yesterday, the number of women showing interest in Demian Haksen had been growing.
Fortunately, none here matched Sophia Russell's beauty.
But it wasn't a situation to relax in.
Objectively, she and Demian Haksen shared no real connection yet.
Demian Haksen could abandon her and choose another at any moment.
Sophia Russell pictured another woman at Demian Haksen's side.
The mere thought filled her with fury and made her tremble.
‘……No. I can't allow that.’
The old Demian Haksen might have been different, but the current one was far too valuable to yield to anyone.
The silver lining was that Demian Haksen still harbored feelings for her.
‘But I have Jackson…….’
As Sophia Russell agonized over the two men,
She felt a gaze and turned. There stood Jackson Cutter in the stands.
Only then did she realize she'd been so engrossed in Demian Haksen that she'd forgotten to greet Jackson Cutter.
“J-Jackson!”
Sophia Russell jumped up hastily.
Jackson Cutter turned and descended from the stands. Sophia hurriedly chased after him.
“Jackson, wait! Jackson!”
Sophia Russell grabbed Jackson's hand. Jackson Cutter shook her off.
“……Sophia, what the hell are you doing?”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“You're cheering for Demian Haksen when you have me? Are you insane?”
Jackson Cutter's accusations flushed Sophia's face with shame and humiliation.
“……What did I do wrong? Isn't it natural to cheer for a knight who shines in the matches?”
But Sophia Russell refused to admit her fault.
“What did you just say?”
“Jackson, don't be petty. You're just jealous because Demian Haksen is stealing the spotlight.”
Veins bulged on Jackson Cutter's face at her words.
“Sophia……!”
“And do you even have the right to be jealous of Demian? You haven't shone once in these mounted combats.”
Sophia Russell thought she should stop there.
But once the words started flowing, she couldn't hold back. She had plenty of pent-up grievances too.
“Jackson, what did you always tell me? That you're the best. That no one your age can beat you. So what's this?”
When Jackson Cutter had insisted on entering the mounted combats, Sophia Russell had been excited.
Excited for Jackson Cutter's grand performance.
And for sharing the crowd's attention and cheers at his side.
“Instead of yelling at me, worry about how you'll perform in tomorrow's match.”
Sophia brushed past Jackson Cutter and left.
Jackson Cutter stared blankly at Sophia Russell's retreating back.
“Th-this…… thiiis…….”
Soon rage boiled over, surging to the breaking point in an instant.
Just as fury threatened to shatter his reason, a voice came from behind.
“The match is over.”
Surprisingly, hearing Jacques Noire's voice instantly quelled his anger.
Jackson Cutter bowed his head toward his master.
“……Master.”
Jackson Cutter couldn't lift his gaze.
Jacques Noire had ordered him to win the mounted combats.
Not only had he failed, he'd accomplished nothing.
“A pathetic showing. Yesterday and today.”
Jacques Noire offered no words of comfort.
“My judgment was spot on, as expected. With your skill, you can't beat Demian Haksen.”
Jackson Cutter bit his lip at his master's words. But they rang true—he had no rebuttal.
“Good thing I prepared in advance knowing this. Otherwise, we'd have jeopardized the grand plan.”
Jacques Noire turned as he spoke.
“Follow me.”
“Pardon? Where are you going?”
At Jackson Cutter's question, Jacques Noire replied matter-of-factly.
“To finalize your marriage to Olivia Copperhead.”