I Hope Your Dreams Lie Within That Path
The next day, in the underground prison.
The viscount's haughty demeanor from the previous night had vanished without a trace. Frank Leshold huddled inside the iron bars.
Thud—
Cael gazed coldly down at the viscount from beyond the bars. Behind him stood Oden, hands clasped together and head bowed in stoic silence.
"Hmph. For all your ambitions, you're clinging to your life like any common fool."
At Cael's low voice, the viscount whipped his head toward the sound and cried out.
"Y-Young Duke! Spare me, and I'll devote this body to your service with unwavering loyalty!"
"Your loyalty's worth less than Oliver's shit. But if you keep your mouth shut and listen well, I might just extend that worthless thread of life a bit longer."
Swish—
As Cael stepped aside, Oden the knight stood there. With a tilt of his chin, Cael gestured toward Oden behind him.
"Cancel the knight's oath you imposed on this man—right now, with your own mouth."
The viscount's eyes widened, and Oden's shoulders trembled ever so slightly.
The oath between noble and knight was a sacred vow. Unless the lord broke it first or excommunicated the knight, the knight could never escape its bonds in their lifetime.
The viscount smacked his lips regretfully. No matter how cornered he was, Oden was the territory's finest asset. Even the viscount himself found it odd that such a knight followed him.
But with his own neck on the line, what did a knight's oath matter?
"O-Oden! From this moment, I revoke your knighthood and all oaths to me! You are no longer a knight of House Leshold!"
The viscount shouted desperately. But Oden's expression, upon hearing it, wasn't one of relief—it was strangely subdued.
Cael tossed a sneer at the viscount and slowly turned away.
"You heard him. You're free now."
Oden remained silent, head still bowed. A complex swirl of emotions—loss from being discarded like a used rag by the lord he'd devoted his life to, or relief from shedding the oath's chains—flickered across his rugged face.
Cael lightly patted Oden's shoulder.
"Even if I forced you to submit through threats and blackmail, I know full well you wouldn't offer me true loyalty. If you want, you can leave right now."
"...Pardon?"
Oden finally raised his head and looked at Cael. Bewilderment filled his eyes.
An Expert-level knight who wielded the sword was the core of any house's power—a tremendous strategic resource. No noble could easily acquire such strength, so once gained, they bound the knight by any means necessary. That was the way of this world.
But the young duke before him was different. He was telling this precious asset—this capable blade who'd willingly offered his neck—that he could leave without regret.
"Exactly as I said. Don't let oaths bind you. Follow what your heart truly desires. Hide away in the countryside and abandon the sword, or seek another lord—it's your freedom. No need to stay by my side and walk a blood-soaked path."
Oden stared into Cael's eyes. There was no falsehood or bravado. It was genuine leisure and consideration, with no intent to chain him.
Oden swallowed dryly and asked carefully, his voice heavy.
"Young Duke... what exactly are you trying to achieve?"
At that question, a faint smile curved Cael's lips. It had been ages since he'd heard such a thing.
'My lord... with that overwhelming might, what do you seek to accomplish?'
Whether it was Woo-jin back then or Cael in this otherworld now, the answer remained the same.
"A world where humans can live like humans."
Oden's eyes quivered faintly.
"Humans... living like humans...?"
"Yes. A world where the strong don't trample the weak like insects as if it's natural. Where those who wield the sword don't swing their power recklessly, stripping others of their dignity. A world where, regardless of strength, just for being human, everyone receives at least the minimum treatment befitting a person."
It was an idea utterly alien and dangerous for a noble in this fantasy world ruled by the law of the jungle—one no noble would dare voice.
Cael chuckled softly and turned to leave.
"Figure out what that means by experiencing it yourself. If you're leaving, I won't stop you—just vanish quietly."
Cael began ascending the prison stairs.
Tap, tap.
His footsteps echoed alone in the silent underground stairwell.
Oden stood frozen, gazing at Cael's broad back.
He didn't flaunt his power despite possessing it, nor did he unjustly bind others despite holding authority. Instead, he severed the necks of corrupt rulers and upheld the dignity of the oppressed.
There was the back of the lord worth devoting his sword to—the one he'd sought his entire life.
Thud—
Oden dropped to his knees on the cold stone floor. His gruff voice boomed through the underground prison.
"I, Oden, though a flawed knight who once served the wrong lord and was blinded... if you permit it, Young Duke, I wish to offer my sword—and my remaining life—to your path toward that world where humans live like humans!"
A smile tugged at Cael's lips as he climbed the stairs.
"I hope your dreams lie within that path too."
The vast training grounds of the lord's castle.
Cael's subordinates, gathered to reorganize the troops before departing for the subjugation, eyed Oden with curiosity.
Of course, the first to start sizing him up was Weger, the former guard.
"Hey, new guy."
Weger swaggered over, arms crossed smugly.
"Ended up under us after all, huh? In this line of work, age and status don't mean shit. What matters is who served the Young Duke first—that sets the hierarchy. I'm your senior by a mile, so treat me like 'big bro' from now on. Got it?"
As Oden looked down at the burly Weger in bewilderment—
Thwack—!
"Gyaaah!!"
A flying stone struck Weger's occiput dead-on. He screamed, clutching the back of his neck and collapsing.
"Who the hell's trying to play senior and enforce discipline?"
Cael strolled out leisurely, lightly kicking Weger's rear in reprimand.
"This place respects skill and experience. Oden's wielded the sword far longer than any of you and stands at a proper Expert realm. Don't pull that moss-gathering shit on the new guy, or you'll get your ass handed to you—treat him with respect."
Weger teared up indignantly but bowed his head.
"Y-Yes, sir! I'll keep it in mind, Young Duke! P-Please take care of me, Oden... bro!"
Unlike Weger, Ella approached politely, lightly pinching her skirt hem in a curtsy.
"Pleased to meet you, Sir Oden! I'm Ella, the Young Duke's personal maid. I saw you in battle yesterday—you were amazing! Looking forward to working with you."
At Ella's courteous welcome, Oden relaxed his stern face and returned the knightly salute.
"You're too kind, Miss Ella. Though a sinner, I'll do my utmost for the Young Duke and all of you from now on."
And beside her stood a man eyeing Oden with sparkling eyes—Roben Banis, apprentice knight of the Blue Wolf Knights.
"No way... it's really Sir Oden! I wasn't sure from afar yesterday!"
Roben bounced excitedly, shouting.
"An honor to meet 'Sir Swift Oden,' the academy legend! Your fame as Vollex's fastest sword reached even my ears!"
Oden coughed awkwardly, waving it off.
"Haha, swift? Just an overblown nickname. My skills are nothing special."
Cael, overhearing, turned with interest.
"Oh? Fast sword your specialty?"
"Embarrassing, Young Duke. Forcing speed sacrifices depth—I've always felt my limits."
"Not at all."
Cael eyed the longsword at Oden's waist and stated firmly.
"Speed is the most basic yet trickiest principle of martial arts. Chase it too hard, and you lose weight; add weight, and speed dies. Perfect—I'll check your swordsmanship personally later."
A flicker of doubt crossed Oden's eyes. He'd trained decades to reach Aura Expert. Yet the Young Duke's energy felt a step below, per his senses.
Of course, yesterday's overwhelming prowess and mysterious aura defied common sense. Still, a lower-realm lord offering direct guidance felt odd by knightly norms.
But Oden didn't question it. If his lord said so, it was so. He bowed deeply.
"Thank you. I'll humbly accept your teachings, meager as my skills are."
That night.
Cael's group marched toward somewhere, the bound-and-gagged Viscount Leshold at the fore. Weger, Ella, Roben, Oliver. And now the newly joined Oden.
A bit further, faint torchlight and raucous noise began to filter through.
Legnum's main base—a massive underground black market and thieves' den—revealed itself.
At the murderous intent and murmurs of hundreds of criminals, Weger gulped dryly.
"Y-Young Duke... we're really charging in just like this...?"
"Why not? Door's open—reason not to go in?"
"No, I mean—it's a crime syndicate's lair! We're stronger now, sure, but why walk straight into the tiger's mouth!? Shouldn't we call reinforcements or ambush!?"
Ella and Roben nodded frantically, sweating bullets at Weger's desperate plea.
Even with Sir Oden, a frontal assault into the heart of enemy territory looked suicidal.
But Cael, hands behind his back, chuckled and kept walking.
He nudged the bound viscount's back with his foot, shoving him forward with a smirk.
"Just a pup den full of puppies. Let's go in."
"Uwaaaah... I ain't responsible."
"If anything happens, escape with the Young Duke right away. I'll secure the retreat."
Ella's fretting and Oden's reliable words rang in his ears.
Cael smirked and took the lead.
"Come on, then!"