Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 005
Chapter Title: The Lion in Need of a Heart
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It took about four hours on foot from the cabin where Shan was staying to reach Leaf Village.
Considering how all the villages around here were much farther apart from one another, it was fair to call them neighbors.
That was why the militia had stepped up when the neighboring village was massacred.
A good number of the people slaughtered in Shadow Village were friends or relatives of folks from here.
Thanks to that, Shan—who had set out early in the morning—arrived safely in Leaf Village by the time the sun hung high in the midday sky.
“Oh.”
The wheat fields stretching around the village still had some time before harvest, so they had an overall bluish-green tint.
But Shan could easily imagine the landscape dyed in gold.
He'd never been properly taught how to farm, but sowing seeds, plowing fields, and reaping harvests as ordered were things he'd done every year.
Curious about how ripe the kernels were, he cut a few stalks to check when an irritated shout came from off in the distance.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing? You're trampling our precious wheat!”
A young man who looked about five or six years older than Shan—right on the cusp between boy and adult—came storming over with a scowl.
But the moment he spotted Shan, half-hidden by the wheat, the man froze solid.
A boy armed with a sword, a mace, tattered leather armor in places, and a short spear...
“Hello. I need some— ”
“Gaaah!”
With a shriek of it's the little demon, the man bolted for the village without a care for trampling the wheat this time.
He didn't recognize the face from the last fight, so it seemed the survivors had spread Shan's notoriety far and wide.
Feeling awkward, Shan scratched his sideburns before heading toward the village palisade.
Whether the fleeing youth had raised the alarm or not, the villagers—men, women, children, and elders alike—had gathered, clutching anything that could serve as a weapon.
Wouldn't be too hard even if they tried something...
Shan picked up on the deep terror in the eyes fixed on him.
A few slashes at the front-runners, and they'd all scream and scatter.
Even a group of able-bodied men had crumbled before; with women, kids, and old folks mixed in, it was a given.
This held true even for those who hadn't faced him directly.
The survivors had exaggerated his power to justify their own panic.
Shan stopped at a spot where he wouldn't be too deeply surrounded and gave a slight bow to Orgo, the village chief at the forefront.
“Hello.”
“It's been a while, Sir Knight.”
The villagers murmured at Orgo's deep bow, but the chief paid it no mind.
He knew full well that no matter the boy's reason for visiting, things could go south and leave everyone here dead several times over.
“Might I ask what brings you to our village?”
“I need food.”
“We'll prepare it right away.”
Shan had been about to say he had something valuable he could trade when Orgo's response made him pause with an oh.
Did this not count as robbery since he hadn't threatened them yet?
But it didn't feel like the man was just giving it out of the goodness of his heart.
Forcing payment when it was offered freely felt like a loss, though, so after a moment's thought, Shan nodded.
Good things were good, right?
Being a big village, they probably had plenty left to spare.
Soon, a few villagers returned laden with several sacks bulging with foodstuffs.
Barley, wheat flour, dried meat, cheese and butter, vegetables, fruit, salt, and various spices...
Standing there watching, Shan pointed at the grains and spoke up.
“I don't know how to make bread, so bake the flour and barley into loaves instead. And does anyone here know how to start a fire?”
“A... fire?”
“Yeah. I've been trying, but it just won't catch.”
Anyone who wasn't a beast knew how to make fire—or so they thought, staring at Shan in disbelief.
But when their eyes met his green ones, a few flinched and looked away.
It was still midday, but thick clouds made the day dim, so Shan's eyes glowed faintly.
Orgo looked baffled too but kept it off his face.
“That's no trouble at all...”
Shortly after, Shan learned that fires weren't started by rubbing random stones together—you needed flint like quartz struck against iron, and tinder to catch the sparks.
Knowledge any farm kid would have picked up from their parents, but utterly inaccessible to an Altoin orphan.
“Oh, now I can roast the game I hunt. Thanks.”
“Don't mention it.”
“But there's so much food, it'll be tough to carry it all.”
Shan could exert greater strength than most by moving right, but that didn't make him some hulking brute.
Hauling the load that several grown men had strained to bring would take days of trips.
“Then we'll help transport it.”
“That'd be too hard on you guys. Just give me a cart or something.”
“A... a cart...”
A proper cart made by a skilled carpenter wasn't cheap, but Orgo couldn't dream of saying no.
Even days later, the image of that boy grinning like a ghost while cutting down villagers was still vivid.
As Orgo nodded inwardly in tears, Shan started to ask for an animal to pull it but stopped.
Horses or oxen aside, even a donkey was valuable livestock in these parts.
Truth be told, he lacked the confidence to handle animals anyway.
“Thanks! I'll eat well!”
“May martial fortune follow you, Sir Knight.”
Praying he'd croak fighting somewhere far off—but Shan, oblivious, just beamed and waved brightly.
Sounded like a fancy blessing, right?
With regular food deliveries from Leaf Village, nothing disturbed Shan's peaceful routine anymore.
One new hobby was practicing the fire-starting technique he'd learned—it was surprisingly tricky and demanded real patience.
“Hoo, haa.”
You had to scrape sparks from metal on flint straight onto the tinder, then feed kindling fast before the flame died...
Unlike fighting, you couldn't just wing it— that made it all the more fun.
Now that he could make fire, he hunted forest beasts more aggressively.
His archery practice paid off too; he could hit moving targets decently now, leading to mass slaughters in the woods and fresh-roasted meat for Shan.
“Whoa...”
The first time he ate roasted rabbit, Shan teared up in awe.
It blew away the scraps he'd scavenged as a village laborer, let alone the dried meat from Leaf Village.
Objectively, it was rough game slathered haphazardly with spices and poorly grilled—not tasty cuisine.
But the thrill of eating his own cooking for the first time made it taste like the world's greatest delicacy to him.
Naturally, he hadn't learned to ration or plan against shortages.
If food ran low, he'd just hit the village again.
Gorging whenever he pleased each day, Shan roamed the nearby hills and fields to burn it off, as always.
Most went to energy, but the rest settled into his body, sparking change.
The skeletal frame from when he'd first settled here had gained wiry, tough muscles like steel cables, and his height—which had been half a head shorter than peers—shot up.
This naturally boosted his physical prowess.
“Oh.”
Leaping a stream in one bound, Shan grinned at the leap in ability.
Just recently, he'd have splashed right in.
It wasn't just jumping power.
His stamina—which hadn't been great despite efficient movement—had multiplied several times over.
His body weight was half again as much, yet he could still climb trees like a monkey, his raw strength surging.
Meaning he could swing weapons harder and faster.
Bam—one axe swing toppled a tree thicker than his thigh, but Shan clicked his tongue at the chipped blade.
It was fresh from the village, too.
“Too flimsy...”
He hadn't noticed when he was scrawny and weak, but iron weapons weren't as sturdy as he'd thought.
The bandit leader's sword held up best, at least.
With a better weapon, he could probably cleave boulders.
Then even armored knights would split like melons.
“Maybe ask Leaf Village to get me one.”
As Shan sat pondering in the forest heart, treating them like a bottomless bag of handouts, the villagers were discussing him too.
“Chief, how long do we keep getting bled dry like this?”
“We can't keep taking these losses.”
For the past few months, Leaf Village had been exploited by a pint-sized demon from Shadow Village to the south.
Despite his small frame, the brat devoured more than three or four grown men—always the best quality stuff.
As time passed and he plumped up and grew taller from all that food, his demands ballooned.
Lately, he'd even started asking for tools like axes and sickles, bending the village's back when ten able men were already dead or crippled.
Orgo sighed deeply at the prominent villagers' complaints.
“What can we do? We can't rise up and say we won't take it anymore. Can't borrow the lord's army either.”
Two months back, a few battered vagrants had shown up near the village, babbling madly about the “Green-Eyed Devil coming.”
Under interrogation, they confessed to being mercenaries hired to wipe out nearby villages without a trace.
Baron Mahsel, the ruling lord, had them hauled off then holed up in his castle.
Pleas for troops to crush the Altoin thief got nothing but “stay put.”
Clearly, the bandits' identities had spooked him somehow.
What could the villagers do?
Tales of the “Green-Eyed Devil” who'd soloed a full merc band were everywhere; passing sellswords and fixers fled too.
Even accounting for exaggeration, butchering over a dozen armed pros put him knight-tier—a monster, understandably.
As the leaders sighed heavily, someone burst in.
“Ch-Chief!”
“What?”
“Someone's taken the demon-slaying job...!”
The village elites rushed to the sole inn-cum-tavern.
“Where's this person?”
“Right there.”
The man at one table screamed seasoned warrior.
Maybe thirtyish.
Tall, broad-shouldered, muscled bulk, a thick beard blanketing his sideburns to jaw, rugged heavy features—the picture of a battle-hardened vet.
No knightly plate, but chainmail armor, metal gauntlets and boots, a mace at his belt, and a strangely tipped long rod on his back.
Skipping blades probably meant total confidence in brute force.
Orgo cleared his throat a few times before sidling up.
The man scowled.
“What?”
“Pardon the intrusion. I'm Orgo, the village chief. I hear you've taken the bandit extermination request...”
“Yeah.”
“May I have your name and house?”
“Dunno how that other guy phrased it, but I'm no knight. Just a wanderer from Pendia. Call me Roden.”
Pendia lay east of their Libert Kingdom homeland.
This far northeast dulled the distance, but solo traveling a foreign land meant real skill.
His armor's quality screamed pro, not some rookie haul—and tailored to his build, not stolen.
Orgo brightened, smiling.
“Understood, Sir Roden. So, you'll take our request...?”
“Just one kid, from what I heard.”
“As you've heard, not just any kid. An Altoin. Wielded demonic power to wipe a merc band. Hurt plenty of our people too. They call him the Green-Eyed Devil around here.”
To haggle fees lower, downplay the target—but Orgo laid out the full truth.
Having faced him, he knew the boy's looks lulled foes into complacency... which hit like a hammer.
What if this wanderer lost, named the village, and brought hell down?
“Fine. Altoin demon powers are bullshit superstitions. I'll take the job anyway.”
“Then the reward...”
“Chasing off one brat—what reward?”
This guy was a true knightly paragon, unseen lately.
His gear screamed wealth, so maybe just generous.
Saving the thirty gold coins scraped from thin purses was a godsend.
One snag: he clearly dismissed the demon power talk.
So Orgo risked rudeness, hammering home the kid's strength repeatedly.
Defeat and exposure would doom them all.
“I'll be off.”
As Roden left, Leaf Villagers shut their eyes, hands clasped in prayer.
Goddess, bless this knight to vanquish the wicked Altoin demon.
Shadow Village outskirts cabin.
After a full day of fun and lounging, Shan perked up at an unfamiliar sound from afar.
A rhythmic metallic clank, like gears meshing—never heard before.
Stepping out revealed the source.
A burly man clad head to toe in metal armor—a real knight, straight out of tales.
Gazing down silently, the knight spoke low.
“You're the Altoin boy terrorizing and looting the locals around here.”
“No.”
Shan denied it flat out—not from fear, but genuine ignorance of any looting.
“I've thought about turning bandit if I couldn't get by, but luckily the nearby villages send food, so I'm surviving.”
“Taking supplies without payment is theft.”
“Then is the church thieving too?”
“That's donations—a different matter...”
The knight trailed off with a heavy sigh.
“Don't waste time with idiot excuses. I don't buy this demonic Altoin power crap. Surrender your arms and come quietly, and I'll show mercy. I'll protect you from the villagers and even find you honest work.”
“Can't do that.”
To Shan, disarming meant regression to powerlessness.
A life of enduring insults and beatings without dignity or freedom.
If anyone tried dragging him back, even his birth parents wouldn't get mercy.
Drawing his sword, the knight scowled and gripped his back rod two-handed.
“Made your choice... Last warning. My flail won't stop mid-swing.”
The weapon resembled a farm flail.
Long staff with a chain ending in a metal-weighted short bar—meant to whip around for attacks.
First time hearing it called a flail, but Shan saw its duel value.
Far longer reach than his sword or axe, and that build promised bone-crushing hits anywhere.
Tense...
First real knight fight ever.
How strong were the realm's elite warriors? Shan felt nerves—and excitement.
Would his skills measure up?
Sharpening focus, his heightened senses caught the knight's every micro-twitch.
Faint tremors from feet up through his body.
Maybe a secret knight technique.
Tension gripped him briefly, but Shan peered at the knight's blank face.
His eyes weren't on Shan—locked on the sword tip.
Testing, Shan flicked the blade; the gaze jittered wildly.
That piercing stare from moments ago now looked like a rabbit before a predator.
No way...
One step, two.
Closing in casually, Shan halted just shy of flail range, then stamped one foot and thrust.
“Whoa!”
“Guhk!”
Crash—the knight dropped the flail and fell flat on his ass.