Chapter 24
Chapter 24
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 024
Chapter Title: I Will Become a Knight
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Th-this...!”
“That bastard!”
Shan’s sword dug into the knight’s helmet, and sighs and shouts erupted from those around them.
No matter how dangerous a duel with real swords might be, to blatantly drive a blade into the face of a subordinate knight right in front of the count—did that kid have two lives?
But Shan ignored the reactions around him and sheathed the sword embedded in the helmet.
The blade, without a single drop of blood on it, finally snapped with a sharp clang.
“Thanks to your mercy, I gained the upper hand.”
A moment of silence passed before the knight slowly removed his helmet.
His ragged breathing and the cold sweat streaming down were enough to guess the terror he had felt.
The sword tip had passed a mere paper’s thickness from his eye, so even a knight couldn’t help but be frightened.
Eyes were one of the body’s most complex structures, difficult to restore even with healing miracles.
The knight, who had nearly lost one eye out of nowhere, let out a deep sigh and said,
“Spare me the empty words. It’s a difference in skill.”
“It’s not empty words.”
Of course, there was a skill gap, but the knight’s strikes and the spirit infused in them had clearly been aimed at shattering Shan’s sword to subdue him.
If he had swung with the intent to outright cleave him down, the attack would naturally have been faster and stronger, forcing Shan into a far more dangerous counter.
In that case, it obviously wouldn’t have ended so lightly—he would have taken at least the eye.
If not for the fact that Count Shedil actively employed Altoin, he might have killed him outright.
The knight sheathed his sword and turned toward the count, murmuring lowly.
“Your master raised a monster...”
As Shan started to ask what that meant, the count seated in the chair atop the stairs clapped his hands.
“Ha, impressive! Even if he let his guard down, to subdue Sir Gowell so easily like that. At that level, even I in my youth wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
Unexpectedly, the count wasn’t displeased but seemed amazed, wearing an expression like he had realized something.
Considering his own knight, whom he had sent out, had been unilaterally defeated and his prestige damaged, it was an odd reaction.
The knight returned to the count and first politely offered the magic sword he held.
It seemed it wasn’t his personal possession but something the count had lent him just for this duel.
Taking the sword, the count murmured lowly.
“The world never quite goes as one wishes... though that’s what makes it interesting.”
Then he suddenly looked at Shan and asked,
“Have you had lunch yet, by any chance?”
Unlike the castle’s relatively modest exterior, the count’s lunch was splendid.
Freshly baked wheat bread, pies stuffed with meat and fish, duck boiled in low-heat oil, and a mysterious stew brimming with exotic spices.
The old Shan would have lost his mind at such a feast, but the luxuries enjoyed at the Webers’ mansion had elevated his palate, helping him maintain his dignity.
Seeing Shan eat with such refined manners, the count clicked his tongue.
“Your bearing could pass muster even among the capital’s nobles.”
“Thank you.”
His words were rough, but it was still praise for observing etiquette, so Shan replied in his trained tone.
The count had only Sir Gowell standing behind him as he sat across from Shan for the meal.
Considering he was one of the kingdom’s few high nobles, it was an overly generous seat for a mere Altoin boy.
Tearing roughly into a hunk of pork, the count glanced back and asked,
“So, how was it—a duel between fellow disciples under the same master?”
“To suppress him, I’d need at least three of me. Maybe even more.”
“So that old Darkal finally lost his marbles...”
Listening quietly to the conversation between the count and Sir Gowell, Shan finally understood the meaning of those earlier words—and why Shedil City’s greatest powerbroker had suddenly taken an interest in him.
“Are you perhaps Sir Darkal’s disciple?”
“I received his teachings fifteen years ago. Lifting those rocks was pure hell.”
Sir Gowell shook his head with an expression that was either nostalgic or exasperated.
That made Shan—and even Roden—fellow disciples.
He had known Sir Darkal had more than one or two disciples, but he hadn’t expected a connection like this.
As Shan inwardly congratulated himself on not stabbing the eye after all, the count chuckled and said,
“A man who’d never contacted me once in my life sent a letter not long ago. Said he had a disciple he raised in his old age, and if we ever met him as an enemy, to avoid clashing unless absolutely necessary...”
Sir Gowell, not one for dramatics, had heard a report about a boy matching the letter’s description exactly. Curiosity piqued, the count had summoned him.
“I thought he was fretting over a promising disciple getting crushed before he could bloom, but it turns out the old man cherished his earlier pupils. He was afraid they’d get shredded by the new monster he created!”
The count made a fuss about nearly losing a valuable knight by ignoring Darkal’s letter and staging a match anyway.
Shan’s brief surprise at his master’s unexpected thoughtfulness faded as his curiosity shifted: so why call him for a sudden duel and invite him to lunch?
Sensing the gaze, the old bear set down his utensils, half-drew the magic sword at his waist, and asked,
“What do you think?”
“Well...”
Naturally, it was temptingly alluring, hard to resist.
Even blocking the blade’s thickest flat with ample spirit, it had snapped his sword from the sheer force...
At that level, it could easily cleave through a large monster’s body without any spirit at all.
If Sir Gowell hadn’t tried to break the sword and had kept a defensive stance, it might not have pierced so easily.
“No need to say more! Your face says it all—like a starving beggar who’s gone years without a meal. Mission accomplished.”
“Mission?”
“The plan was to slice that rusty hunk of iron with this sword, then dangle it in front of you. ‘Look how fine this blade is...’ just to brag.”
Laughing as he spouted words unworthy of his noble station, the count grew serious.
“Want to take this sword and join my service?”
He’s giving me the sword?
Shan nearly nodded in a trance but snapped back to reality at the words that followed.
His service—nice phrasing, but vague and without substance.
“Does that mean you’ll dub me a knight?”
“No. An Altoin knight? Out of the question.”
The count flatly refused and devoured his food with gusto.
An attitude unlike someone who employed Altoin without discrimination.
After smacking his lips for a while, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and said,
“My demand is simple: be an invisible blade. Live freely day-to-day, then when orders come, go where sent and wield your sword. Simple, isn’t it?”
“An assassin, then.”
“Think of it as an exclusive mercenary. Sometimes you’ll escort someone or hunt monsters. The pay will rival any knight’s, I’ll select only the finest magic gear for you, and I’ll even grant a manor to support a beautiful wife and your old age.”
Considering Shedil City was the waypoint for every Altoin relic, he could acquire the kingdom’s strongest armaments, the count whispered snakily—quite unlike his bearish exterior.
A fearsome temptation: magic gear, money, women, land—everything but honor.
Listening silently, Shan shook his head to refuse.
“Sorry, but I can’t accept that offer.”
“Because you want to become a knight?”
“Yes.”
“Impossible. It’s implicitly forbidden to grant an Altoin a rank above knight.”
He’d heard there had never been an Altoin knight, but this was the first he’d heard it was outright banned.
Neither Roden, Kalion, nor even Sir Darkal had ever mentioned it.
As Shan’s eyes narrowed, the count snorted.
“Looks like those two old coots, Kalion and Darkal, didn’t know either. Or maybe they did and kept quiet... Becoming a knight as an Altoin is far harder than you imagine. Even if I wanted it.”
Count Shedil held the largest fief in eastern Pendia and controlled the lands between the Demon Realm and the kingdom—a great lord.
Geography limited his influence on capital politics, but his stature was undeniable.
Even he, having witnessed Shan’s prowess, said dubbing him a knight would be difficult.
“As you know, I employ Altoin. With so many living in my lands, I have to seem a fair lord to them. But just hiring them as guards or servants draws constant grief from the capital nobles. Get what I mean?”
“Even with achievements worthy of it, it’s still hard?”
“Even if you became a knight stronger than the Protector Duke—or if one of your parents were Pendia nobility—fat chance. Dream on. No one but the king himself would dare dub you.”
Hearing that the racial barrier was far thicker than he’d vaguely imagined, Shan felt a sense of futility and set down his utensils.
The shock was greater because Roden had said Count Shedil was one of the most likely to dub him.
“So forget your pipe dream and just work for me? Among this kingdom’s nobles, I’m the one who discriminates against Altoin the least—and treats them the most generously. I promise treatment befitting your skill.”
Was it truly impossible to rise to knighthood on skill and merit alone, no matter the effort?
If knighthood was off the table anyway, wasn’t it better to enjoy comfort wielding his blade than wander aimlessly chasing hollow fame...?
Lost in thought for a moment, Shan caught the count’s smile.
A mocking look, as if to say it was all futile anyway.
The moment he saw that infuriating expression, the words burst from his mouth on their own.
“Thank you for the offer.”
“Usually that’s followed by a ‘but,’ right? I’m not a man accustomed to rejection.”
As if he’d guessed the answer from the first sentence, the count wiped the smile from his face and grumbled.
Of course, that wouldn’t make Shan change his mind out of fear.
“Even if it’s hard—even impossible... I will become a knight.”
A dream half-instilled by Roden back then.
He could eat finer food now, just like he’d wanted at the time.
As the count’s assassin, he could live even more effortlessly, without striving.
But Shan’s desires were no longer so simply sated by material things.
During his travels, a longing for honor, power—or something even more noble—had quietly taken root within him.
“Do you know what it means to refuse me here in Shedil?”
“Yes.”
At the count’s chilling words, Shan gradually tensed his muscles.
The instant he issued a hostile order, Shan planned to grab a table knife and take the count hostage.
The fully armed Sir Gowell at his side was irrelevant.
If he believed that duel had only been possible thanks to a single longsword like a lump of scrap, then the count would pay the price.
After Shan’s reply, the table fell utterly silent—not even breathing could be heard.
Breaking that tense hush came an unexpected burst of laughter.
“Uh, hahaha! Cocky little shit! You’re fun! Yeah, fearless types who don’t listen annoy me, but they’re entertaining... Docile bootlickers are useful but boring.”
From glaring with triangular eyes moments ago to suddenly howling with laughter—Shan stared blankly, unsure how to react.
To him, the count laughed and said,
“Fine. Employment failed, but you amused me, so you deserve a reward. Name it.”
“That magic sword...”
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
The count’s face hardened instantly, as if his prior laughter had been a lie.
After leaving the count’s castle and returning to the inn, Shan spotted Roden pacing anxiously in the stable right beside it, his face tense.
With luggage piled high on the saddles, he looked ready to depart at any moment.
“I’m back. What’s all that?”
“You went to see His Excellency the Count! Nothing happened?”
“Well...”
From embedding his sword in Sir Gowell’s helmet during the duel to refusing the count’s offer and implicitly bracing for a fight.
Recalling the events, Shan replied nonchalantly.
“Nothing much.”
“Looks like plenty happened. Spill it all, quick.”
As expected, lying to Roden was no easy task.
A short while later, after hearing the full story, Roden let out a sigh so deep it seemed the ground might cave in.
“Haa...”
“Relief or despair?”
“Beats me. At least His Excellency won’t be sending an army after us right away, right?”
“Mm, probably.”
He wasn’t much of a judge of character, but it didn’t seem like the count would come chasing them immediately.
If he intended to, wouldn’t ambushing them on the way back be better than letting them leave fully armed?
The two unpacked their bundled luggage in the room and lay on their respective beds, chatting.
“Did you know about Sir Gowell, Roden?”
“No clue. You think Master’s the type to chat about his old disciples?”
“Fair point.”
Even so, a count’s guard captain was quite the success story, yet Darkal never boasted about training any knights.
“Oh, Sir Gowell mentioned something too. With Master’s letter, some might resent or envy me, so watch out.”
“Still weird thinking back. Doesn’t seem like him to write that.”
After exchanging a few words on Sir Darkal’s training philosophy, Roden gazed at the ceiling and murmured lowly.
“Altoin becoming knights is impossible, he said...”
“Yeah. Think it’s true?”
“Who knows? I’m no expert on nobles’ unwritten rules. But with zero Altoin knights in history, it tracks.”
In truth, among the famous Altoin mercenaries Roden knew, a few rivaled average knights.
He’d thought they simply hadn’t been knighted because nobles had no reason to pick Altoin at equal skill, but on second thought, it was stranger that no Altoin as exceptional as Shan had appeared in Pendia’s long history.
As Roden sank into thought, Shan rolled around on the bed and grumbled like a lament.
“His tone made it sound like no matter how incredible my feats, it was absolutely off-limits.”
Of course, if a dragon appeared like Roden once joked and he slew it, maybe—but realistically, no true dragons had appeared since the empire’s fall five hundred years ago. Subdragons didn’t count.
“So, still set on it?”
“Yeah.”
Just as he’d told the count, Shan intended to become a knight.
If nobles blocked the path with their customs, he’d just become big enough that the benefits outweighed their rules.
Worst case, amass a fortune, hire hordes of mercenaries, overthrow Pendia, found a new kingdom.
Then proclaim himself Knight King—knight either way.
“The count wasn’t all bad, though. Gave a gift and everything.”
“Oh, right. This... should be pretty useful.”
At Shan’s words, Roden pulled out the booklet he’d received.
It was the count’s gift in lieu of the magic sword—for putting up with his whims all day.
A compilation of reliable info sold by registered explorers in the guild: only provided to teams with high contributions from repeated info-sharing. Money alone couldn’t buy it.
For their upcoming long-distance expedition, it was a true treasure.
Two days after that stormy encounter with the count, the Green-Eyed Devil expedition team gathered again on the first floor of the explorers’ guild.
The usual clamor filling the guild fell silent at Shan’s appearance.
“Hey, that’s the kid?”
“Yeah... I said don’t call him ‘kid,’ he’ll hear!”
“Doesn’t look it.”
Shan sensed a strange sense of disconnect from the people whispering toward him.
He’d drawn stares after toppling people in the plaza or during the first expedition, but this felt different in nature.
Even explorers who hadn’t witnessed the plaza incident gazed at Shan with awe.
He learned why after meeting Vent and Jerpo.
“We heard the rumors. You had a one-on-one duel with a knight and overwhelmed him?”
“Rumors spread?”
“The whole guild was buzzing about it yesterday.”
Shan’s eyes widened in surprise at their words.
He’d assumed they’d keep it secret since news of an Altoin boy defeating a knight would tarnish Sir Gowell’s honor—but how had it leaked so thoroughly?
Then again, there had been over a dozen soldiers and servants present; sealing all those lips was impossible.
Short of killing them all, someone was bound to blab carelessly.
Should’ve won flashier, without jamming the sword in his eye socket.
The thought crossed his mind, but pressing the blade to his throat or another vital wouldn’t have been much better.
Besides, if Sir Gowell had ignored the threat to his vitals and pressed the attack, Shan would’ve had to thrust before his sword broke.
Feeling uneasy about the unintended fallout for a moment, Roden shifted the topic by unfurling the map he’d drawn up.
“Here’s the plan for this expedition. Please review it together and suggest changes to any issues.”
“Ooh...”
“The route’s crazy detailed now?”
“Even marks places farther than we’ve been? Neither I nor Vent’s been there.”
Both wondered how they’d gotten such info but didn’t pry further.
Info-gathering methods were a mutual hands-off zone to respect.
After debating a few policies, they gathered in a circle like a ritual, clapped hands, and rose.
Now it was time to venture into the Demon Realm’s depths and unearth the ruins slumbering somewhere within.