Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Orphin de Riofing
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Orphin de Riofing.
She was a knight in pursuit of honor.
Like most children in Karpe, she grew up hearing tales of House Jerban's renown.
And so, she became a knight and knocked on Jerban's gates.
A woman who showed promise despite her gender, she easily swore her oath of loyalty and offered her sword to Jerban.
She pledged her life willingly to the North, to Jerban.
With that vow, she devoted herself.
But the North was merciless.
Magical beasts swarmed without respite, and enemy forces lay in wait for any opening.
Yet that was precisely what made it honorable.
It was the duty of protecting House Jerban at the smallest scale, the kingdom at the largest. Pride took root in her heart.
Even born a woman, she had chosen to live as a knight.
What could be more honorable than this?
She was content with her choice.
Of course, that was before meeting House Jerban's wastrel.
Kallias.
"Urk!"
Clang—clang!! Rumble!
Tremble.
*Heavy.*
Each swing of his blade carried unnatural weight. Her hands trembled from blocking his strikes. Before she knew it, her gauntlets were torn, her palms soaked in blood.
Drip, drip.
Red blood flowed from her mangled hands, seeping into the frozen snow.
"Haa, haa..."
Cold air filled her lungs.
Yet her body poured out hot sweat in contrast.
"Hoo—"
She had heard the rumors that he had become a pilgrim.
She had even held some expectations.
But the moment Orphin laid eyes on Kallias, she was deeply disappointed.
His divine power was paltry, and his visible aura unimpressive.
Even if he was a pilgrim now, Kallias was still Kallias. The notorious wastrel. A worthless lump of trash.
A being whose mere existence was almost a sin.
And so she sighed.
She pitied him.
He was still utterly useless.
She brought up the old story.
If he showed even a hint of remorse toward her.
If he apologized, said he was sorry.
She decided to forgive him, calling it a childhood incident. Even if he had tarnished her honor, wasn't it just a tale from their youth?
An old memory, but if he apologized with all sincerity, she would forgive him.
But.
He was indifferent even to their shared past. As if he didn't remember it at all, he showed no interest whatsoever.
She had resolved to forgive him, but a heaviness lingered in her chest regardless.
*As expected,* she thought with secret relief.
He was still irredeemable garbage, and Orphin preferred it that way.
So she drew her sword.
"But why!!"
Clang—!
Why! How could someone with such a speck of divine power swing a blade this heavy!
Orphin couldn't comprehend it.
Before her stood her former lord, expressionless, sword in hand.
Kallias von Jerban.
She began to doubt if he was truly the hopeless fool she had known.
*He's different.*
Not the man she remembered.
Not the immature noble brat who couldn't even hold a sword properly.
His eyes were sharp.
Yet his face held no emotion.
An utterly impassive expression.
"......!"
That infuriated Orphin.
It felt like utter dismissal.
As if he had no emotions to waste on the likes of her. His proactive sword belied that indifference toward her.
Yet it steadily parried her attacks, redirecting their force into even stronger counters.
Clang—!
She had clearly thrust at him, but in an instant, her blade tip faced the sky, then the ground.
What she thought would end in a few exchanges stretched into dozens, nearly a hundred.
"Haa—haa—hup!!"
Her muscles screamed with fatigue, her breath rose to her throat, her heart felt like it would burst.
She exhaled white puffs endlessly, but the wastrel before her merely gazed with quiet ashen eyes.
Crunch.
Frustration filled her throat.
"Hraaaah—!"
She squeezed every ounce of strength from her body since infancy, channeling divine power into her blade.
The sword aura bloomed in light, slicing through knee-deep snow.
*This will do it.*
*This will surely reach him.*
Whoosh—!
But then.
Swish—clang—!
In that instant, a silver sword path flashed, blinding her with light.
Whirl, thunk!
Her sword flew from her hand, embedding in the ground.
Simultaneously, his sword aura shredded hers, scattering like petals in the air.
"Ah."
Sword aura petals swirled.
The silver petals sparkled in the shattered sunlight, breathtakingly beautiful.
Realizing her knees had buckled, Orphin let out a hollow laugh.
Before her, Kallias's merciless ashen pupils gleamed.
A perfect defeat. Orphin's defeat, beyond any excuse.
"Kill me."
Her bowed head exposed her nape in utter vulnerability.
Shing.
Kallias's sword turned toward Orphin.
She sensed death.
But.
Slash—!
She flinched.
He had not struck her.
It was a massive white serpent.
The enormous white serpent's head rolled across the snow like a python's.
"Guess the blood drew them in."
Sheathing Lucien at his waist, Kallias calmly headed somewhere.
"Where are you going! Without finishing it!! Are you going to tarnish my honor again!"
She screamed, but his response left her mind blank.
"It was just a spar. Do you take your opponent's life in a mere spar?"
With that, he leisurely vanished into the white forest.
Staring blankly in the direction he left, Orphin soon rose and gripped her sword.
"...Just a spar, was it."
She smiled bitterly, then joined the knights who had come searching for her.
"Has he gone?"
"Yes."
"What happened? You look unwell, Captain."
"It's nothing."
Just...
"A little spar."
Various emotions flickered across Orphin's face.
But his swordsmanship—his swordsmanship alone—lingered in her mind.
*He was... hiding his skill.*
Puzzled, Orphin led her knights toward Jaybarshu Castle.
* * *
A dark night.
After half a day hunting magical beasts in the white forest, Kallias arrived at a small inn near the border.
He sought Bernard, but he was absent.
He had only crossed paths with the troublesome Orphin.
Snore—!
The snoring echoed from outside the room.
Bang—!
Opening the door revealed Brans snoring on the bed.
Kallias's eyes grew icy.
The white forest was dangerous enough; he had told Brans to rest here to avoid complications.
But seeing him so comfortably asleep was irksome.
While he had fought blood-soaked battles in the blizzard-swept white forest, his squire slept so leisurely.
It grated on him.
"Brans."
A heavy voice called.
But no response.
Instead, louder snores signaled deeper sleep.
Kallias's patience snapped. He kicked Brans sprawled on the bed.
Thud—crash!
"Ugh! Who the hell!"
Startled, he yelled, but before him stood Kallias, snow piled on his head and shoulders.
"Oh, my lord! You've returned!"
Brans bowed hastily.
Kallias's gaze pierced like ice.
Brans bowed to the floor and sidled away.
"Why only one bed."
"Uh, well. Th-there were no other rooms available."
"No rooms near the border?"
Rooms should be plentiful. Why?
At his question, Brans scratched his head, nodding in understanding.
"Yeah. I asked too—it’s because tomorrow's hunting day."
"Hunting?"
Thud—
Sitting on the bed, Kallias stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"I see. Must be that time."
"You know of it?"
"Nothing major. It's breeding season approaching."
Magical beasts' breeding season.
Birthing requires vast nutrients, and most beasts supplement by devouring humans.
Thus, large-scale hunts with troops prevent them from descending on settlements.
"It's one of the few opportunities for wandering knights in a year, so rooms are scarce."
Wandering knights, of ambiguous origin or chasing honor, often end up in the North.
But House Jerban, pinnacle of sword houses, accepts only the elite.
Hence the hunting tournaments.
For House Jerban, the gains outweigh any losses.
"How shall we dine? Considering your portions, my lord..."
"We'll eat in the dining hall. Is it prepared?"
"Yes, I informed them in advance."
"Then let's go."
"Right away! I'll guide you."
No need for guidance.
A three-story inn, not vast. Down to the first floor was the dining hall.
"Innkeeper, bring the food as discussed!"
"Coming right up."
A Northern inn, perhaps.
The innkeeper's face was scarred, his bald head and muscled arms imposing.
Kallias scanned the diners briefly and sat.
*Troublesome.*
Most here were knights for the hunting tournament.
Thus, needless posturing filled the air.
His hood hid his hair and eyes, so they saw him as another rival knight.
The cramped hall brimmed with their auras, wearisome.
*Not knights, but thugs.*
Overflowing energy, it seemed.
Already like this.
"Ah, our meal's here."
"...Not bad."
Brans knew his appetites well.
The innkeeper piled dozens of large platters on the table.
Varied meats by cut.
And the main dish.
Boom—!
A whole roasted beast dominated the center.
"Northern specialty: earth dragon roast!"
"Ooh—!"
"Hm."
He worried a small inn might lack fare, but unfounded.
Earth dragon roast.
Not a true dragon, just lizard-like, but still.
Kallias's lips curved.
He sliced the hind leg with fork and knife, biting in.
Splash—juices burst in his mouth.
The earth dragon's hind leg, dubbed ground dragon, seemed chewy with muscle, but wasn't.
Tender and chewy, sauce deeply infused, flavorful like pork hock.
"Not bad."
Kallias elegantly sliced and ate the roast.
"But fellows, you can finish all this? I don't like leaving food."
"Who do you take my lord for! He eats like a cartload of beggar brats in his gut! We can order more, so brace yourself, innkeeper!"
"Brans."
"Yes, my lord! More?"
"Shall I rip your mouth or pull your tongue? Choose."
"Or I could just shut it..."
The innkeeper chuckled.
"Sorry, hold off. We're out of ingredients with that."
"This suffices."
"Good! Haha!"
The innkeeper laughed heartily toward the lobby.
Creak...
"Innkeeper, a meal please."
A customer.
A hulking man with a greatsword on his back.
Evidently skilled, his armor bore battle scars, aggressive.
"Sorry, kitchen's closed."
"Then what's that."
"Last one. Too late. No ingredients left."
The innkeeper sounded regretful but wasn't.
The man's eyes shifted from him to Kallias's group devouring their feast.
Step, step. Creak.
Floorboards groaned under his steps.
Thud.
"What are you? Can't you see my lord is dining!?"
"Squire, butt out."
"What!"
Thwack—!
The knight's fist whistled through air.
"Oof!"
Crash! Brans smashed tables, unable to rise.
But Kallias ate on unperturbed.
He daintily finished the hind leg; now forelegs, special neck and breast remained.
Last, the cheek.
The head's cheek was the earth dragon roast's prized cut.
His favorite.
"I'm starving, see. Might as well share."
Crunch.
The brute tore the dragon's head by hand, bones and all.
Kallias's fork halted.
"Oh, innkeeper! Fine work! Delicious! Especially this cheek—outstanding!"
Murderous intent gleamed in eyes fixed on him.
The giant knight, hooked on the flavor, stripped the head clean and reached again.
For the foreleg.
Kallias's fork flew.
Thunk—!
"Gah!"
It pierced the knight's hand.
"You crazy bastard...!"
"Pull it if you want death. The moment you do, your head flies."
Chilling ashen eyes bobbed the knight's throat.
He stared at his hand pinned to the table, awkward, unable to pull the fork or draw his greatsword.
But pain overrode fear.
"You dog!"
Pop! He yanked the fork, reaching back for his greatsword.
Kallias was faster.
His knife moved.
Clang—!
Thud—the knight's armor fell.
Stunned, he froze, hand on hilt.
Kallias aimed to slit his throat but stopped.
"......"
He merely severed armor joints, dropping the massive plate.
A cause: an old man behind yanked his arm.
Thud—!
The knight fell on his rear, cold sweat beading.
"Tsk tsk—still hot-tempered as ever."
"Y-you think this funny! I nearly lost my head thanks to you, old man!"
"It didn't fly off, did it?"
At that, Kallias halted eating too. The irksome meal turned irrelevant.
Thud.
The seated elder faced Kallias, clucking at the laden table.
"Still need to gorge like this to feel full? Got money again? From Volibian house's daughter this time?"
Instantly, Kallias's sword flashed like a whip across the table.
Clang—!
Spark, sizzle!!
Sparks flew brilliantly.
"Hoh, famed sword!"
The elder's sword met it atop the table.
A red blade symbolizing spirit sword.
Blue lightning crackled fiercely along its edge.
"Only as good as the one you're holding."
He was the master of Thunderclap Sword—Rakan, the North's sole paladin.
"Bernard."
The Bernard of blue lightning.