Caw! The Black Knight Revealed
“Caw!”
[Master! Someone’s following us!]
“A knight?”
[What’s a knight?]
“Did they have armor on?!”
[What’s armor?]
“You goddamn birdbrain!”
Ian first gave Oberon a good scolding before explaining the situation. No matter how smart a crow Oberon was among birds, he still hadn’t fully grasped human customs and lifestyles. But since he’d traveled with the Santiago Knights before, explaining what a knight was wasn’t too hard.
[It was a human with beautiful black like my feathers and Master’s hair!]
‘...The Black Knight, then.’
Ian quickly pieced it together. Honestly, he was shocked. He hadn’t expected a medieval local to ignore religious pressure and chase after him like this...
‘She said she was from Baekguk... Do they not believe in the Church of Heaven there?’
If she was a heretic, it made sense. But even with pursuit on their tail, nothing changed. Ian spurred his horse onward to rendezvous with the fleeing count.
“Damn it...!”
And then Ian saw it. Some power-hungry knight getting hunted like a beast, pierced by arrows. And amid the chaos... the count collapsing too!
Ian easily spotted Lucy sniffling near the count.
“[Darkness!]”
Ian instantly summoned shadows to blanket the area in pitch black, snatching Lucy up and bolting away.
“Lucy! The count?!”
“...He’s gone!”
“Fuck, I really hate this shit! Goddamn it!”
Lucy’s confirmation sealed it. The count was dead.
‘What the hell is going on?’
Ian plunged into confusion. All his knowledge of war came from movies and games—pure fiction. And in those stories, they never showed what to do when your commander got sniped and you had to flee. Heroes always won. No need to worry about losing. Defeat was a foreign concept to him.
‘But...’
Ian glanced at the trembling Lucy. The count was dead. But he had another noble right here. Lucy Talian. If she survived, she could be a new rallying point.
Ian focused on the moment. First things first—get Lucy out safe!
“The Black Knight’s on our tail right now!”
“H-huh, Black Knight?”
“Yeah! We gotta shake ’em—head for the river!”
But Ian had no time. Shouts from the pursuers already echoed behind them.
“Stop, wizard!”
“...This is insane. For real!”
Ian gritted his teeth and whipped the horse faster. Getting caught by the Black Knight meant game over. Glancing back, he saw her and her men closing in fast. Targeting Lucy, specifically.
‘She’s persistent as hell!’
One thing was for sure—he had to respect the Black Knight’s grit. Taking on Greim’s army solo? Mercenary legend material.
“Running’s pointless! Surrender and save us the trouble!”
This was the pivotal moment deciding the war’s fate. Ian didn’t stop.
‘Just a bit more...!’
His horse leaped forward, clearing a rough path to reveal a wide, shallow river. Ian halted midstream and turned to face the pursuers. They stopped too—because he’d engaged.
“No long talk. Hand over Talian, wizard.”
The Black Knight’s voice was deep and resonant.
Ian sneered. “No idea how much that usurper paid you, but you know your boss is a total scumbag, right?”
His jab hit home; the soldiers bristled. Facts hurt.
“What’d the captain ever do to you?!”
“Yeah! It’s that Talian baron’s own damn fault for being such a prick! Captain’s innocent!”
Ian felt Lucy shaking behind him. Cold truth: the baron wasn’t blameless. Hell, he’d tried playing Greim first and it backfired. But in this medieval fantasy world where war was daily life, did right and wrong even matter? Victors made the rules. Scream justice, win, done.
“Hey, Miss Talian. Give ’em a piece of your mind.”
At Ian’s nudge, quivering Lucy exploded.
“Shut your mouths, you peasants! Greim killed my parents! Stole my land! He deserves to die!”
Ian glared at the Black Knight. “Hear that? Your usurper boss slaughters innocent nobles and seizes land by force. Scum of the scum. Worth dying for?”
“...”
Ian held his breath, watching her reaction. In war, cause mattered—a lot. It fueled the will to fight. Why bleed? No answer, no fight.
‘I fight for this land’s children!’—cool as hell. ‘For its pedos!’—idiot vibes. Same logic. Your boss is a dishonorable shit—still fighting?
“Got some favor from Greim or what?”
After a beat, she replied. “No. Just happened to get hired.”
“Then no loyalty to uphold?”
She shook her head slowly. “I’m a free lance, wizard.”
“...?”
Like he gave a shit if she was salaried or freelance? Ian shook it off. Here, “free lance” meant wandering knight selling swordplay—not desk jockey.
Actually, the term came from those very knights.
“Took the coin, so Greim’s my lord till the job’s done.”
“Fuck, then what’s the difference from a merc?”
“...None, really. I just act without shame.”
Clear answer. Sure~ Job ends, we’re strangers~ Paycheck’s all I care~ Peak freelancer mindset. Medieval pro.
She leveled her spear coldly. “Last warning. Drop Talian and withdraw.”
Ian grinned. “Or what?”
“...Why? You owe her a debt? Reason to die for that girl?”
“Same as you. Got something owed to me.”
“Hm. I see.”
She got it—fellow freelancer empathy. She poised to throw.
Same stance meant: for the goal, death’s fine. No hard feelings, but she’d kill Ian for Lucy.
Ian moved first.
“Then!”
He clapped sharply. ‘Shit! Magic again!’
She tensed to strike before spells flew.
But Ian expected the javelin.
“[Rampage!]”
His Maronius words boomed. Pursuers’ horses went berserk!
Hiiiing!
“U-uaack!”
She abandoned aim, leaping off barely.
“What cheap trick!”
Level 3 Summoner Ian effortlessly imposed his will on the horses. Unhorsing riders? Child’s play.
Pursuers splashed down. River shallow, but calf-deep. They could run and kill the wizard...!
But Ian’s magic continued.
“[River!]”
The river’s mystery had sensed Ian lately. It eagerly responded.
[I’ve been waiting, human. You seek the mysteries.]
It wanted deep chat, but Ian was rushed. Ancient mystery, it grasped his urgency.
[Those trouble you? Right?]
“[Currents!]”
[Yes. Clear them first, then talk.]
Kurrr!
Black Knight and men gaped. Spell ended—river writhed like a living beast!
“S-save me!”
Water lumped like giant slime, swallowing pursuers and flushing them downstream.
Ian watched in awe. Whoa. Fucking fun-looking. Flatland water slide? Irresistible!
Pursuers would’ve raged if they read his mind, but no telepaths here.
“You were amazing, Ian!”
Lucy cheered wildly post-magic. But Ian had no time—thanking the river first.
Curious spirit, it peppered questions. Ian wasted time replying. By departure, sun dipped.
Camp overnight, find count’s mercs at dawn. Fetching water, Ian spotted corpses onshore.
“...”
His flushed pursuers. Duh—medieval waterslides didn’t safety-test like modern ones.
Some rides? One-way tickets. His was that type.
Ian prayed for their souls, paused at Black Knight.
Up close, armor pitch-black. Special metal or treatment? Unknown. Pricey stuff—leave it, thieves’d loot.
Why let them? Ian’d take it.
World travels taught: wizards or not, armor good. Lunatics swing swords anytime.
Too conspicuous black? Better than none.
‘...Kinda small, though.’
Stripping revealed smaller size. Hard to gauge in black, but slimmer than Ian. Petite even by scrawny medieval standards.
‘Can I even wear it?’
Half-worried, half-hopeful, Ian stripped her. Worst case, sell to Lucy.
Then, removing helmet—blonde hair spilled long.
“...?”
East knight, yet uncut hair? Confucian?
Face revealed, doubts cleared... and shock hit.
‘A woman?!’
The Black Knight was a woman.