Chapter 31
Chapter 31
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 031
Chapter Title: If You Don't Want to Get Hit, Keep Quiet
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Maya's words prompted Shan to lightly pinch his forearm and scrape it with his fingernail.
But despite his unusually keen senses, he couldn't detect any particular change.
Maya gazed at him with eyes like she was looking at something adorable.
"You won't feel anything yet. It's just a very slight change—extremely minor."
"Why did it suddenly get tougher?"
"Some of the cockatrice's physical traits have taken root in your skin."
The blue-haired girl nearby, Sheri, answered in her place, leaving Shan bewildered.
"Am I turning into a cockatrice?"
"Judging by the progression, it doesn't seem that drastic. At most, you'll just be a bit sturdier than others."
As she replied, Sheri shook the glass vial containing Shan's blood mixed with the solution, her face lighting up like she'd tasted some exquisite delicacy.
"Since ancient times, the cannibalistic notion has spread that devouring a powerful foe absorbs their strength. There are tales of heroes born with terrifying might or skin hard as steel. But systematically observing a phenomenon like this? This might be the first time."
The girl's once-pale cheeks flushed with intellectual ecstasy.
Chewing her lip, Sheri turned to Shan with a tone half-mutter, half-question.
"What on earth are the conditions? Is it because of the Demon Realm? Or because you're an Altoin? Did you eat it after killing it, by any chance?"
"No. I didn't try, but it seemed too tough to chew anyway."
The thing wasn't just tough-skinned—its innards were chewy as hell too.
To eat something like that, you'd need teeth hard enough to gnaw trees and jaws of steel.
"Anything else special?"
"I ended up covered in its blood after killing it."
"Well, unless you shot it dead with a bow from afar, that'd happen. Anyway, blood on your body could be a prerequisite too, so let's note that... Actually, I have a hunch. Plenty of people have hunted large monsters before, but mostly in groups. You, Beard Guy?"
"Yes, Pro—! Er, no. Yeah."
"You said you were there but didn't fight? How far were you when the cockatrice died?"
"Pretty far, I think. At least tens of meters, maybe up to a hundred...?"
"And you had zero reaction. Exactly. A regular monster's essence is too dilute to manifest even if absorbed by the hunter. With big ones like this, it gets split among multiple hunters, so it never shows. This is a solo monster slayer's privilege. If a cockatrice does this much, what happens if you solo something stronger? Or after personally killing thousands, tens of thousands? Not sure if that's even possible, but..."
Shan nodded along to the mumbling he only half-understood.
Unable to contain her excitement, the girl rattled on before clearing her throat and composing herself.
After scribbling notes with a quill alongside Maya and revising them repeatedly, Sheri adjusted her amethyst glasses.
"Good thing you came in person. I'd have kicked myself if I missed this."
"So, is there something wrong with my body?"
"Not yet. Of course, no precedents, so we'll need long-term observation."
Relieved at the assurance of no issues, Shan let out a sigh.
He couldn't help feeling uneasy amid all the complex jargon.
Then, peering at something round at her waist, Sheri jumped up with a start.
"Oh, time's already this late... Professor, I should head out."
"Sorry to drag you away when you're so busy."
"No worries. I got to see something rare thanks to you. Oh, you two?"
Sheri smiled softly at Shan, and for some reason, an eerie allure mismatched her age suddenly emanated from her—something absent just moments ago.
"You've got too much stuff. Mind helping carry some? It's not far."
Though inwardly annoyed, Shan nodded.
She was Maya's acquaintance who'd made time to examine him, after all.
"Sure, no big deal. Roden, you good?"
"O-Of course. Let's go."
A pretty girl had him acting lovesick since earlier; Shan sighed involuntarily.
He'd seen village boys do the same plenty of times—not surprising.
As the two emerged from the workshop carrying observation tools, the sword-bearing man and woman waiting outside rushed over in alarm.
Sheri gestured subtly from behind, and they froze before pretending nonchalance.
On the way, entering a less crowded alley, Sheri glanced at Shan beside her.
"So, how old are you, Shan?"
"Not sure exactly. Around fourteen now...?"
"You don't know your age? Why?"
She blinked in confusion, then realized with an "Ah."
"Sorry, forget I asked. So, how long have you been seriously training as a warrior?"
"Not sure where to start counting, but if I had to, about a year now."
Taking Willow Village's fall and his wild survival until meeting Roden as the mark, it lined up perfectly.
It was midsummer then; now it was spring.
"A year. I see."
Sheri chuckled, then turned to Roden.
He'd been staring awkwardly and quickly averted his eyes.
"What's your deal with Beard Guy? Guardian?"
"Friends. He's not much older than me, despite looks. Probably around your age."
Roden was nearing twenty, and the girl looked seventeen or so—close enough.
She covered her mouth in mock surprise, but Shan sensed she wasn't genuinely shocked.
Gazing alternately at Shan and Roden, Sheri narrowed her eyes and dropped a peculiar remark.
"And yet he didn't help at all during the cockatrice hunt? Harsh."
"It was the best approach."
"Still, just tossing weapons from behind? Anyone could do that. Claiming he hunted with you..."
"Hey."
Shan halted abruptly, glaring at Sheri with wide eyes.
Her earlier magical ramblings had been pleasant enough, but this snarky tone grated.
"Cut it out. Whatever your game, stop picking fights."
"But I'm not wrong. Everyone would laugh if a big lug like him just lobbed weapons while a little kid like you fought."
Her beaming smile screamed provocation.
Recalling knightly conduct from lessons with Roden and Darkal, Shan held back one last time.
Plus, she was Maya's friend...
"Shut up and walk. Unless you want a punch."
"I just felt bad for—"
"Hold it, Shan!"
Thwack. Sheri crumpled to the ground with the impact, staring blankly as she processed it.
Only after feeling the burning pain in Shan's fist and face—plus blood trickling from her nose—did she realize she'd been punched.
"Y-You hit me...?"
"Yeah. Keep yapping, and you'll get another—"
"Princess!"
"You little psycho!"
Urgent shouts rang out as swords were drawn from behind.
The man and woman who'd been tailing them charged in horror.
"Stop! Stand down!"
Despite Sheri's cry, they swung at Shan—lethally restrained per orders, aiming for limbs over vitals.
Holding back against an unarmed foe made their strikes sloppy.
That sloppiness saved their lives.
Poised for a Thousand Forms barrage, Shan dodged the male knight's attack and kicked his elbow instead.
Then, grabbing the female knight's wrist as she lunged, he twisted—crack.
Both strikes carried solid force; bones snapped audibly.
"Guhk..."
"Aaaagh!"
The knights dropped their swords amid fracture agony.
Having subdued them in seconds, Shan finally registered the earlier shout and turned to Sheri.
"...Princess?"
Still seated with a bloody nose, Sheri slowly rose, removing her amethyst glasses and untying her hair.
Blue locks cascaded, revealing sharp crimson eyes previously hidden—transforming her vibe entirely.
From curious chatterbox mage girl to decadent second princess of Pendia, dubbed the kingdom's witch.
Her congested sniffles from the nosebleed undermined it slightly.
"Beard Guy already guessed who I am, and we've met before, right?"
Sherin assumed Shan remembered her.
Her status and looks left unforgettable impressions—no exceptions.
She'd even used a pseudonym close to her real name as a hint.
But Shan, who'd fixated on her guards' gear back then, barely recalled her hair color, let alone her face.
Why's this girl spouting nonsense?
"No clue."
Is she pretending ignorance to draw attention? In this situation?
A familiar ploy, but Shan's face showed no deceiver's tell.
Sensitive to gazes and emotions, Sherin sensed the boy truly had no idea who she was.
Humiliation—rare for her—made her hand fly to her face instinctively.
"Ah, haha... This is embarrassing. You, Beard?"
"Yes, Princess."
Roden dared not correct her—"My name's Roden, not Beard"—and bowed politely.
He'd punched royalty in the face, after all.
She could order him stripped and cartwheeling, and he'd comply.
"We met then. My first magic academy visit."
"Ah!"
Enlightened at last, Shan scanned the scene and whispered to Roden.
"...Where should we bury her after?"
"Don't be insane. Kill Maya too?"
"Oops."
He could slaughter the princess and guards for needling him, but hiding it meant offing Maya too—no go.
Ignoring their life-or-death debate, Sheri wiped her nosebleed and addressed her knights.
"Let's call this incident nonexistent. I provoked him on purpose to gauge his reaction. It was... a bit over the top."
A tactic she often used to probe depths.
Gauging joys and rages revealed character.
To avoid backstabs, check ally bonds firsthand.
Even accounting for her disguise, getting punched bloody by a peer boy was a first.
Skeptical but relieved, Shan bowed formally.
Maya knew they'd come together; killing here meant relying on royal mercy.
Retaliate later? He'd scale palace walls for payback.
"...I greet you, Princess. I am Altoin Shan."
"Surprisingly well-mannered. Your doing?"
Roden knelt hastily at her query.
"My apologies."
"Enough—both of you, up. Don't want unnecessary attention. Aran! Kagon!"
"Yes, Princess..."
The knights approached, one with a shattered elbow, the other wrist—faces grim.
Their glares at Shan were murderous; if eyes could kill, he'd be shredded.
"Keep people away for a bit."
"But, Princess, with that thug..."
"Understood."
The male knight started to protest but yielded as the female bowed; he followed suit.
With the area cleared instantly, Sherin perched on the gear they'd carried.
"I wasn't lying about time—let's make this quick. I heard: the young Altoin who felled a cockatrice seeks a noble to knight him."
"H-How did you...?"
They'd approached discreetly, Elvin's circle only, no ties to her—how?
Roden gaped; Sherin smirked down smugly.
"Ways exist. Anyway, want knighthood? I can grant it. Cockatrice-slaying prowess at your age, plus Lord Darkal's letter... Personality's iffy, but passable."
Her sly grin evoked a schemer dooming the naive; Roden tensed instinctively.
Shan, listening quietly, spoke up.
"What’s the price?"
Crude to demand knightly terms from a princess, but post-nosebleed, manners were moot.
As expected, Sherin nodded without ire.
"Fifteen years. Serve me exclusively—no other lords. Pay won't be stingy."
"Fifteen years..."
Muttering the span longer than his life so far, Sherin murmured low.
"After fifteen, you'll be twenty-nine—prime knight age. With 'Princess's Knight' on your resume. Not a bad deal."
Knight divided into vassal (noble/royal bound, salaried, protected, powerful) and wandering (unaffiliated, proving worth via hunts, wars, tourneys for eventual vassalage).
Yet Sherin acted like it disadvantaged Shan.
Why?
Pondering briefly, Shan asked outright.
"Any downsides to being your knight, Princess?"
"Didn't expect directness. Fine. My knights face danger aplenty. I'll draw life threats galore—few strong allies, foes overwhelmingly mighty. Always fighting from weakness."
Boiled down: high mortality.
Knightly duty by nature, but odd for a princess soon marrying nobility or foreign royalty.
What threats?
Shan paused; Sherin pressed threateningly.
"Remember: no alternatives. No one else knights an Altoin. Not with Conrad and Elvin watching. They'd only if utterly crushed."
Her face chilled mentioning her brothers—like mortal foes.
She didn't mind questions, so Shan pressed.
"How can you promise a title then?"
Her eyes widened, then curved in wry amusement.
"Pendia's court has few my side anyway. Gaining a powerhouse knight? Cost is just one more grudge from those who despise me. Profitable."
Shan pondered, then eyed Roden.
"What do you think, Roden?"
"Your choice—why ask a friend? He'll prioritize his gain over yours."
Sherin scoffed like he was brainless; Shan glared again.
She flinched briefly.
"I suck at politics. I trust Roden knows more, sees clearer, judges better."
"Strong enough to bet your future—your life—on that trust?"
"Yes."
Her crimson eyes rounded at the unwavering reply.
Sighing, she beckoned her distant knights.
"True friendship's nice—if real. No rush answer. Contact via Maya when decided."
The knights reclaimed the gear—manageable despite injuries; Sherin took one herself.
Departing, she waved her free hand.
"Hope for a yes."
