Chapter 110
“Giving up after just that much?”
“…No sir!”
“If you haven't given up, why are your legs resting?”
The rookie knight ground his teeth, looking at the man standing before him.
Hero? Knight among knights? Savior?
The man before him was not the person the world knew.
He was a devil who pushed people to the brink of death.
Jas, who had recently joined the Lighthouse Knights, felt dizzy from the taste of blood rising up to his throat.
‘I’m going to die like this.’
The rest of the mbers seed to be silently enduring the training, but wasn't he, after all, a newcor?
How could he possibly do things like the others from the very beginning?
Looking around, the faces of the others who joined at the sa ti were as pale as his own.
At so point, the eyes of the同期 (同期 - sa intake/batch) t each other.
- You're gonna die too?
- Yeah, I think I'm gonna die too.
- I'm dying! Dying!
The new mbers thought they were human and had the right to request at least a short break.
The gazes of such newcors gathered towards Jas.
‘? You want
to do it?’
Nod.
At his peers' gestures, Jas experienced internal conflict.
After brief deliberation, Jas’s hand shot up into the air.
“What is it?”
Karl’s gaze turned towards Jas.
He felt his body stiffen unconsciously under that gaze.
‘Still, I have to say what needs to be said. If things go on like this, I’ll really die.’
Swallowing the saliva that wasn't even left in his mouth, Jas, having fird his resolve, painstakingly uttered a single phrase.
“Commander… is there… no break?”
“Break?”
Suddenly, the surrounding atmosphere and air turned strange.
Jas intuitively sensed sothing was wrong. And at the sa ti, he felt the murderous glares of the other mbers focusing on him.
“A break is good. Take a 10-minute break starting now. Put down the gear you're carrying.”
“…!”
The mbers’ eyes widened as if they would burst. Why on earth would he grant a break?
“Since I gave a break, it should be fine to extend the training ti a bit more. Break ti is recovery ti, after all.”
“We don’t need a break! It seems Jas alone should take the break!”
“Do you really not need a break?”
“Yes, sir!”
Karl nodded with a pleased expression at the mbers’ voices, louder than ever before.
“I understand the enthusiasm, but simple abuse and training are different. For training purposes, take a 10-minute break.”
“….”
“I too will not spare my passion for today’s training. Then, see you again in 10 minutes.”
Karl left the training ground, and everyone’s gaze gathered onto the mber nad Jas.
Among them was Definir, now nearing 50 years of age.
“If you had just stayed quiet, the training would have ended in 10 minutes.”
The mbers flinched at the killing intent radiating from Definir’s eyes, and Kelvin, Diogo, and Rogério followed behind him.
The gazes of the other three, excluding Definir, were not much different from his.
Cold sweat trickled down the back of Jas, who caused this situation, under that sharp killing intent.
‘…I ssed up.’
The training of the Lighthouse Knights that winter was so intense that saying they had been to hell and back wasn't enough.
Thus, six months passed since Marquis Baltimo’s major defeat.
***
“Hoo.”
The man who quietly closed his eyes, then raised his sword, was Kelvin. He gripped the sword and thrust it forward.
His sword was straight, honest, and bright.
‘Back then… that was definitely Aura….’
The man put strength into his hand, replaying the mory of facing the red snake’s Aura in the past.
[Luntia Sword Style Ultimate Technique. Holy Light]
Kelvin’s sword beca dazzlingly fast, but the white light Aura, like in the battle against Oleg back then, did not appear.
“How can Aura respond when you doubt yourself?”
“…!”
He whipped his head around at the familiar voice from behind.
“How can you wield Aura, the power of conviction, while not even believing in yourself? You used Aura that day. And it shone with a truly brilliant light. I saw it too, so do not doubt.”
“….”
Watching the back of the man who nonchalantly threw out the words and disappeared, Kelvin cleared his head and swung his sword just like before.
Once, twice, three tis, Ten tis, hundred tis, thousand tis
By the ti he forgot even the fact that he was swinging the sword and swung it endlessly to the point of exhaustion, white Aura was emanating from Kelvin’s sword at so point.
***
Age of Chaos.
Age of War.
Age of Madness.
These were the words describing the current West Continent.
Wars frequently broke out across the continent.
Amidst this, so powers that grew in size declared themselves kingdoms.
In the midst of it all, news even arrived that different races had appeared from beyond the uninhabited lands at the edge of the frontiers.
Elves, Dwarves, even Beastkin.
Several new Master-grade knights, said to be extrely rare, erged.
So many things changed rapidly that Tarantula’s presence faded.
Groups worshipping demons also ford factions.
Occasionally, genuine magicians appeared, revealing mysterious powers, while witches uttered ominous prophecies and disappeared.
Only traces remained of the continent created by the first unified Emperor, and the world was changing rapidly.
***
“Liquor, bring more liquor!”
Clang!
“Please stop drinking, Your Lordship. You’ve already had plenty.”
“Well, who might this be? Isn’t it our strategist Mikhail? Why, have you co to mock
too? As the head of a failed warlord?”
“My lord is cutting his own lifeline. There are still plenty of opportunities.”
“Opportunity? What opportunity? The knight order barely retains its shape with just about 100 n left, and those northern noble bastards have already insulted
and scurried off to attach themselves to that Ellenhower fellow. What opportunity is left for ?”
“….”
Mikhail sighed looking at Baltimo and left the office.
Exiting the Marquis Baltimo's castle, he slowly walked sowhere.
His steps led towards an ordinary mansion, neither large nor small, unique in no particular way. Despite it not being his known residence, his entry seed natural.
Flash.
Upon entering the mansion's interior, his eyes began to glow red.
As he walked into what appeared to be an office, figures clad in robes prostrated themselves towards him from the quiet surroundings.
“Glory to the Forest Clan.”
With a short greeting, Mikhail nodded, and the figures within the robes rose and threw back their hoods.
Revealed were the figures of handso n, all with red eyes.
They had golden hair, ruby-like shining red eyes, and pointed ears.
“Let’s talk while eating.”
The pervasive sll of grilling at filled even the office.
Mikhail led the n towards the dining hall.
In the stories passed down on the West Continent, Elves primarily ate fruits and vegetables and had blonde hair with green or blue eyes, but these ones now looked different from those in the books.
“We thank you for our lord’s grace.”
“I am only sorry that I can offer little right now. When our world cos, I will not forget a single point of your toil and will reward you.”
“Thank you. But we do not do this seeking reward. We only strive for the glorious world of the Forest Clan.”
After the brief conversation, their al resud.
After a long, silent al, he wiped his blood-stained mouth and opened it.
“Baltimo has served his purpose. We have obtained all we could from here. Use him to divert attention, and we will relocate.”
“Who should handle the finishing touches?”
“Leave it to Einar. It’s unlikely, but if by chance that Knight of the Lighthouse cos to rescue Marquis Baltimo. Avoid confronting him head-on.”
“…!”
There were 10 Elves present, all of whom could be called strong by human standards. Furthermore, they could use different shamanistic powers than humans.
They didn't wield powers like spirits, but they used shamanistic powers that looked like magic.
The power of spirits, which the ignorant vaguely knew, belonged to the Druids.
Since both Elves and Druids lived in forests, their stories got mixed up, leading many to believe so, but they were far removed from spirits.
In any case, Mikhail, their lord who could use shamanism, was telling them to avoid battle.
It ant he considered the human nad Karl yer that dangerous.
“Oleg taking the potion and still being defeated was definitely not a coincidence.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
The Elf called Einar bowed his head.
Thus, their banquet ended, and the Elves vanished as if they had never been there.
Mikhail, separated from them, entered the forest, took out several vials from his robe, and began pouring them onto pre-prepared corpses.
Flash!
The mont the potion from the vial flowed into the corpse's body, the corpse's eyes suddenly opened, and then it abruptly sat up.
“Krrrrrr.”
A sound like a beast roaring flowed out from the human corpse.
Tremble, tremble, tremble.
Beside the risen corpse stood a person, but the man couldn't speak, perhaps his tongue was cut, and only trembled violently.
“Uuuuh! Uuuuuuh, Uwaaaaah.”
Listening to the man’s groans, which clearly conveyed terror even without words, Mikhail, who held him with shamanistic power, gave a chilling smile.
“If you succeed in escaping, I will let you live. Go on. Try your best to escape.”
Click!
As Mikhail snapped his fingers, the shamanistic power holding the tongue-less man released. From then on, the man began to flee frantically.
Mikhail, watching the man flee, released the corpse’s bindings.
“Kuooooooar!”
Simultaneously with Mikhail snapping his fingers, the corpse, clad in rusted scrap tal that might have once been armor, began to run at trendous speed.
“Uwaaaaaaaaah! Aaaaaaaaaah!”
Soon, screams echoed through the forest.
Thus, corpses began to rise in various places throughout Marquis Baltimo’s domain.
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