Chapter 9
The next morning.
The front lines, steeped in fatigue and tedium, suddenly had a spectacle. A duel between a knight dispatched from the capital and a Penal Corpsman who had survived ten years on the front.
The duel-now fought with ceremonial blades-was open for viewing by ordinary soldiers, officers, and even Penal Corpsn.
"Commander."
"Ah, Sir Cain! A rare bit of entertainnt, isn't it? Hahaha!"
The commander laughed heartily.
Seated in a tent prepared for high-ranking officers, he raised his cup, and his aides smiled as they poured the liquor.
'Liquor, here in the middle of the battlefield?'
It was a ridiculous sight, yet the man commanded the entire front.
Even a Commander of the knights could not take him lightly.
"To think they laid hands on a key asset from the excavation team-ti to re-evaluate the whole Penal Corps."
"It's still only suspicion. It may have been a misunderstanding."
"No, that rat once killed his superior. I rember it clearly."
The commander's gaze fixed on one spot: a man in a black uniform inspecting the dueling sword he'd received from Randel.
It was Yaan.
"At last I'll watch that cockroach die."
The commander ground his teeth.
Finding the unexpected detail amusing, Cain stepped closer and asked again.
"He murdered his superior?"
"Exactly. So I busted him from second lieutenant to private."
"Then his current rank is...."
"A field promotion. In a single year. A real piece of work."
A chill ran down his spine.
From soldier to noncom and in a single year from noncom to officer-even a low-ranking one-was a teoric rise in the Penal Corps.
"He must have racked up quite the record."
"His Majesty's law is supre, so my promotion was approved, but... tch."
While Cain and the commander chatted, Yaan quietly studied the sword in his hand.
A blunt dueling blade, rounded at the tip.
When he pressed the point with a finger it flexed like a spring.
"Corporal Yaan!"
Hearing the voice calling him, he turned around.
The second lieutenant who had first boarded Glaepnir and joined the elf-village sweep-Dandel Klaus-stood there.
"Second Lieutenant."
He'd fought in the last battle; lucky to survive.
Seeing the emblem on his chest, Yaan understood why.
"You were an artillery officer."
Dragging an artillery officer to escort the dig team-utter incompetence at command.
"I-I wanted to thank you. I heard the whole story from the Penal Corpsman who carried ."
The second lieutenant's face was flushed.
Fainting on his first mission and becoming a laughingstock for the Penal Corps-an unthinkable disgrace for an Imperial officer.
"Who told you? I gave strict orders to keep mouths shut...."
"It-it was who asked!"
Dandel answered hastily; Yaan might kill another innocent Penal Corpsman.
"None of the seniors speak well of you. But I'm different. They say you molested a lady-nonsense!"
"I didn't molest anyone. I shot every last elf they'd rounded up."
"N-no, that's not what I ant...!"
Recalling the incident again turned the second lieutenant scarlet. anwhile, Yaan watched Randel preparing for the duel opposite him.
Specifically, the sword Randel held.
"His blade is different."
"What?"
Hearing Yaan's low murmur, Dandel looked over: a cavalry saber, used by mounted knights, was in Randel's hand.
"Isn't that a live blade? Why would a knight...."
"Seems I'm fated to die here after all."
Seeing Yaan answer so calmly, Dandel felt more anxious than ever.
"Go and protest! That's a clear mistake-at the very least he should have the sa...!"
Dandel froze mid-sentence. Yaan had stabbed the blunt sword into the ground and was bending it with all his might.
"What are you...?"
"The blade snapped. Mind yourself."
The mont he spoke-
Clang-!
With a tallic shriek the middle of the blunt sword broke.
The sword now half its length. Yaan seed satisfied and sheathed it.
"What did you just do?"
In a duel where blade types differed, length was everything.
The longer the weapon, the smaller the opponent's range of movent.
Yet Yaan had just snapped his own blade.
Why on earth...?
"Now we're even."
Saying so, Yaan stood up.
Dandel tried to ask what he ant but gave up.
The duel's starting horn rang out.
"Kneel now and I'll spare your brother."
"No need. I've done nothing wrong."
"Such insolence...!"
Randel's anger flared at Yaan's calm face.
Shing-!
From his scabbard ca a cavalry saber-an antique etched with floral patterns.
"Draw."
Randel took his stance.
After a brief look, Yaan drew his own sword.
"Don't complain the swords differ-you-hm?"
Randel, mid-speech, realized sothing odd about Yaan's blade.
"What did you do to the sword I gave you?"
A blade snapped in the middle.
Yaan scratched his head and answered innocently.
"Sorry. First ti holding a sword; it broke while I was swinging it."
Impossible. A practice blade wouldn't snap after a few swings.
Randel clenched his teeth but let it slide; after the duel the insolent brat would be dead anyway!
Beeeeep-!
"Hraaah!"
As the horn sounded, Randel charged Yaan.
Channeling the mana used to move a colossus into the body granted inhuman strength.
In one bound Randel reached Yaan and slashed diagonally.
A strike faster than the blink of an eye.
A normal person wouldn't even see the afterimage!
Yet what followed was no scream from Yaan.
"What!?"
As if he'd known the slash was coming, Yaan sidestepped.
Randel, never imagining the blow would miss, left his torso wide open.
Crack!
"Guh!?"
Yaan's kick exploded into the exposed solar plexus.
A kick so powerful it lifted the body clear off the ground for an instant.
Even with mana reinforcing the body, the impact was no light thing.
"You little...!"
Yet he was still a knight trained in proper combat.
Shaking off the lapse in vigilance, Randel glared straight at Yaan and began circling him.
'What the? At a glance he looks full of openings....'
Yaan, standing in place, not moving an inch.
The stance, the gaze... it was a form one would never expect from soone who had studied the sword.
Yet the gloomy aura Yaan exuded, his eyes, and the broken sword in his hand kept drawing Randel's gaze.
"Sir Randel is cautious even when catching a rabbit."
The commander spoke thus, raising his cup with interest.
But Cain at his side watched them with a dark expression. Or rather, he stared at the broken sword in Yaan's hand.
The tip of the broken sword was as sharp as glass shards.
It looked more like a dagger than a practice sword.
'He snapped a practice blunt and sharpened the edge, shortening the length too. No way... Corporal Yaan is after Randel?'
The mont he thought that, Randel, unable to endure the continued standoff, charged again.
Before weighing the pros and cons, he was furious that a mana-user like himself had to watch his opponent's mood.
"You bastard!"
Clang!
This ti, sword t sword.
The fact that their blades had truly crossed made Randel smile triumphantly.
"Guh!?"
Just one clash, and his body reeled.
An overwhelming difference in strength.
This must be how an Imperial colossus feels facing an Elf Kingdom colossus.
Clang! Clang!
Yaan barely blocked the wave-like strikes from Randel's sword.
Even as defeat lood, Yaan's eyes had not lost their light, and Randel shouted at his face.
"You rat bastard!"
Randel rushed in imdiately, locking blades.
As he focused mana, the sword pressing against Yaan's began to bear down on him in an instant.
If Yaan tried to pull away rashly, his shoulder would be sliced clean off.
"I'll carve your whole body apart like this...!"
Randel, already harboring murderous intent, poured more mana into his sword hand.
Before long, the blade touched Yaan's chest.
If it had not been a blunt sword, the chest would already be wounded.
"Do you intend to kill here?"
"Of course. I hated you from the mont I first saw you!"
Seeing Yaan's struggling face was like watching his old grudges lt away at once.
"A mongrel from the Penal Corps, just because he lucked into a colossus, gets promoted, gets a private audience with the Commander, and gets the girl! Anyone else is fine, but bastards like you shouldn't live like that! You're parasites of the Empire!"
Drunk on euphoria, Randel poured out all the resentnt he had built up.
Ordinary soldiers and officers cheered at once.
They too seed displeased with Yaan's rise to commissioned officer from ordinary ranks.
"Yeah!"
"Parasites of the Empire!"
"Ungrateful wretches, forgetting His Imperial Majesty's grace!"
"Just fighting alongside these lowly bugs makes sick!"
As the mood turned, even the Penal Corps mbers watching began hurling curses.
"Fucking pricks, flapping your loose mouths!"
"You want us to make you the sa way!?"
"You were the first to run with your tails between your legs in the last battle! I was the only one left alive in my squad!"
"I only ca here for stealing bread...!"
"They dragged here without even a trial! I was just a farr!"
The ripple that began with Randel's shout spread among the soldiers.
The usual resentnts, grievances, or hatred they ignored because of constant battles.
Before long, this duel was no longer just between Yaan and Randel, but a proxy war between the Penal Corps and the regular soldiers.
"I'll kill you and make those bugs who don't know their place face reality!"
The mont Randel shouted that, he poured strength into his sword hand.
"Ha, shit. Nothing's changed at all."
Yaan's curse, muttered low.
Buried under the soldiers' yells and curses, no one but Randel seed to hear it.
Shhrik!
Yaan twisted his body sideways, tilting the blade.
Caught off guard by the sudden move, Randel's sword slid downward. It grazed Yaan's arm, leaving a long cut, but unfortunately it was not deep enough to kill.
And in that brief mont.
Splat!
"Gah!? You bastard, blood-"
Yaan flung the blood that welled from the long cut straight into Randel's face.
When Randel, startled by the sudden loss of sight, hesitated, Yaan dove straight into his arms.
Crack!
Gripping the blunt sword in reverse, Yaan smashed the poml into Randel's face. A precise strike to the temple. It happened in the blink of an eye.
"Aaaargh!"
Randel staggered back a few steps, wiped the blood, and looked ahead.
He was wrong. The blow to the temple had rattled his skull. His stomach churned, and mana wouldn't flow properly.
Thwack!
This ti, the guard of the sword slamd onto the crown of his head.
With a scream, Randel lost balance and collapsed.
Yaan imdiately mounted him and seized his throat with his left hand.
"You started it."
What he held in his right hand was the sword hilt, gripped in reverse.
What followed was not a duel, but ruthless violence against Randel.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Using the sword guard, Yaan struck the face again and again.
As Randel, dazed by pain, tried to block with his hand, Yaan swung the hilt like a madman, as if to pierce straight through the palm.
Before long, Randel's unconscious body slumped. His nose was broken, bruises and blood covered his face, a miserable sight.
"...."
"...."
The square that had been noisy with cheers and curses monts ago was now wrapped in complete silence.
"Damn...!"
Even the commander watching could only stare wide-eyed. The cup he had held was already on the ground, liquor pouring out.
"First one down."
Yaan quietly gripped the sword properly again.
Randel lay unconscious.
With the tip of the broken sword aid at Randel's throat, Yaan was about to deliver the final blow.
Clang!
"Enough."
The descending sword was blocked by a silver sabre and would move no further. Had it gone even a bit lower, the blade would have pierced Randel's throat.
"...."
"Stop here. I cannot stand by and watch a knight be killed."
Cain's sabre blocked his sword.
A powerful mana incomparable to Randel's coiled around his body.
"Tch."
Yaan clicked his tongue once and let go of his sword. Leaving the blade clattering on the floor and Randel behind him, Yaan straightened up.
"As you can see, the victor of this duel is Corporal Yan Verkut!"
As he shouted that, Cain raised Yaan's hand high. Those who saw Yaan's face shuddered at the sight of it, sared with Randel's blood.
"With this! All charges brought against him are declared not guilty! This is the law of knighthood safeguarded by His Imperial Majesty! I, Cain Lorenz, so guarantee!"
The result of an imperially sanctioned duel. And the guarantee of the Silver Knight. No one here could dare raise an objection.
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