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A Mercenary’s Rebirth Among Nobles Chapter 110

Chapter 110

Norvek​ only wanted Lucian’s‌‍‌ life. However, Lucian,​‌ as commander-in-chief, was⁠⁠​ protected by layer​​ upon layer of⁠ escorts.

Even‍‍ if he suffered⁠⁠ a crushing defeat​ in battle, it​ was normal for‌ a commander-in-chief to‌ survive and retreat.‍

Even​‌ if they provoked‍‌​ chaotic combat, it⁠ was doubtful they’d‍ get close enough‌‌ to reach him​ with a blade.⁠⁠

‘And​‌ even if they​ did, that wouldn’t​⁠⁠ be the end‌ of the problem‍ either. It’s not⁠‌ like his personal⁠​ strength is pitiful;‍‌ wasn’t he the⁠‌​ one who defeated‍‍ Harald head-on?’

He​ didn’t resort to⁠ trickery or make‌‍ up for lesser⁠​⁠ strength with technique.⁠⁠⁠ He simply, in‍ a direct clash​‍ of power, emerged‍ victorious, throwing the‍⁠ axe and demonstrating‍ overwhelming strength.

A mediocre knight wouldn’t‍‍‌ even have time‌‌ to think about​ cutting that guy’s​‍ neck; he’d first‌‌⁠ have to worry​‌‍ about his own.⁠‍

And⁠‌ yet, that man,​​‌ who was in⁠​ such a difficult​ position to kill,‌ had declared he‌​ would walk out⁠ on his own.⁠

It‌ was no surprise‌​⁠ that Norvek’s eyes,‍‍‍ half-crazed with hatred,⁠​‌ were bloodshot.

‘But⁠‌ if this keeps​ up, aren’t we‌ playing right into⁠‍ the enemy’s game?’​⁠​

He​‌ didn’t know who‌​ the first knight‌​ to come out​​​ would be, but‍ he certainly wouldn’t​‌ be an easy​‌‌ opponent.

If‌​ Count Calix’s side‍ suffered consecutive defeats,‌‍ it could trigger‍ the worst-case scenario.‌⁠

“My‍⁠ lord.”

“You’ll‍‍‍ go?”

The⁠⁠ moment Palmir opened‌⁠‌ his mouth to‍ dissuade him, Norvek’s‍ eyes gleamed coldly.​⁠

It⁠ was clear that‌⁠ if he said​ anything other than‍⁠ something about the‌ duel, Norvek would⁠‌ send Palmir himself‍​ as the first⁠ sacrifice.

After‌‌ hesitating for a long moment, Palmir‌‍ swallowed the sigh‍ rising in his‌​ throat and said,​

“…I’ll⁠‌ send Sir Dain.”​‌​

“Do​ it.”

Norvek​‌‍ didn’t seem inclined⁠⁠ to speak further.‍​‌

As​⁠‍ he had said‌​ before, it didn’t⁠⁠ matter how many​‍​ died as long‌⁠⁠ as they could​ drag Lucian out.‍‌

Seeing​‍​ that attitude, Palmir‌‌⁠ turned away, swallowing⁠​​ his bitterness.

It⁠​⁠ pained him deeply⁠​ to think of‌ his comrades, knights‌⁠ who wouldn’t die‌‌ with honor, but⁠⁠ would be discarded‍ like mere consumables.​

***⁠

Bwooo.‍‌

Shortly‍‌​ after, the horn‍‍ announcing the start​ of the duel​‌ echoed over Raven​​ Hill. At the‌ same time, a knight stepped out‍‍‌ from Lucian’s side.⁠​

He‌⁠ wore full white‍​ armor, so pristine‍ that his face‌ couldn’t even be⁠​ seen.

Then,​‍‍ from Calix’s side,​‍​ the designated duelist‍⁠ appeared Dain.

“I‌​ am Dain Volkov,⁠‍ in service to‍⁠‌ the house of​‍‍ Count Calix! Who‌ are you?!”

“Ha.”​

From‍‌ within the inscrutable‍ helmet came a mocking laugh. The‌‌⁠ voice was youthful,‍ but resonating inside⁠‌ the helmet, it‍‍ was impossible to⁠⁠‌ determine the exact⁠⁠‍ age.

“A​‍ bunch of traitors​⁠​ playing at being‍ knights? Cut the‌‌ nonsense and stretch⁠‍ out your neck.”‌‌

“…!”⁠

Dain’s⁠‌ face flushed with​‌‌ rage as he​⁠​ glared at the⁠‍‍ white-armored knight.

He​‍ didn’t deny that‍​‌ the cause of⁠​ this war lay‌‌ with Calix. But‌ mixing the sins‍​‍ of the house⁠ he served with​​​ his personal honor​‌‌ as a knight‌‌​ was excessive.

He​‍ was only fulfilling‍ his duty to⁠⁠​ the lord he‍​ had sworn loyalty​⁠​ to, and they⁠​ treated him like⁠​‌ a bandit.

“Let’s‍​⁠ see if your⁠​‍ sword is as​⁠‌ sharp as your⁠ tongue!”

Dain‍​‌ drew his sword​⁠ and charged at​‌ the white knight.‍​ The armor might‍⁠ be excellent, but​ if his swordsmanship⁠ was poor, it‍ was nothing more‍⁠⁠ than tough decoration.⁠‌

All⁠‍ he had to‍⁠ do was deflect⁠⁠ the weapon and​⁠‍ drive his blade⁠⁠‌ into the joints.‌​‍

‘I’ll⁠⁠ crush him with‌ the opening charge!’‍‌

At‌​ the moment he​⁠‍ unleashed his first​ strike with full⁠⁠ force, determined not‍​⁠ to let the​ opponent dodge—

Whoosh!‌

“…?”​⁠​

At​⁠⁠ the same time‌ the white knight’s​‍⁠ sword flew out,⁠ there was a sound like reeds‍‍‌ brushing against each⁠‌ other.

Dain⁠⁠​ blinked, wondering what‌⁠ that was, and⁠ then his field​‌⁠ of vision tilted​​ to the side.‌‍​

With⁠ that final thought—“Why​ suddenly…?”—Dain Volkov met‌‍ his death.

Thud.​‍ Splash.

The⁠​⁠ head hit the​​‍ mud first, followed​​ by the body,‍ which splattered into‌‌‍ the mire.

The⁠​‌ white knight shook⁠ his sword, even‌‍ though it wasn’t​ stained with blood,⁠ as if he‍‌ had cut through⁠‌‌ something impure.

While⁠⁠ everyone remained stunned,​ unable to grasp​‍ what had happened,​‍​ the white knight⁠ spoke.

“Next.”‌‌

***‌

“…”​​

“…”‍⁠​

Both​ armies were left⁠ speechless at the​ shocking scene.

Dain‌ wasn’t an extraordinary‌‍‌ knight, but he⁠ was undoubtedly a veteran with countless‌ experiences in real‍‌⁠ combat.

And​⁠ yet, he had‌⁠ lost his head⁠​ without even crossing​ swords once.

‘He‌ didn’t aim for⁠ the gap between‌‌‍ the helmet and​‍​ the breastplate. Even‌‌⁠ with the armor​⁠‍ in the way,⁠ he cut through​​‌ it like paper.’​

Seeing‌‌​ the fragments of‍⁠ armor lying beside‍‌ Dain’s severed head,​‌ Palmir swallowed hard.‍

It‍ was true that​ knights enhanced their‍ bodies to wield​ superhuman strength.

But‌ an enhanced body​​‌ only allowed one⁠‍ to swing a sword faster and⁠​ with more precision;​​‍ it didn’t make‍⁠ the blade itself‌⁠‌ sharper.

However,​⁠ his opponent had‍​ not only reinforced‌‌ their body but‍⁠ had also absurdly​‍ enhanced the cutting‍‍ power of the‌​‍ sword itself.

‘Has‌ he reached the​ level of materializing⁠​ mana and coating​ his sword with⁠⁠​ it?’

It‌‌⁠ wasn’t just about⁠ increasing cutting power.‌ If one could​⁠​ freely manipulate materialized‍​⁠ magic during combat,‍​⁠ the precision of‍‌ their movements existed‍⁠‌ in another dimension.​

Unless‍ a knight of⁠‌ the same caliber⁠​​ stepped forward, they⁠​ could sweep through‍⁠⁠ any opponent like​​⁠ scarecrows.

“My‍ lord.”

“Send​⁠ the next one.”‌‍

“My​⁠‍ lord!”

“No⁠‌ matter how many​⁠⁠ die. That’s what‍‍ I said.”

“…”⁠

“No⁠‍‌ matter how strong⁠⁠ he is, he’s​‌ still only one.​‌‍ If needed, use‌‍‌ poison or whatever.⁠⁠ We’ve come too​​‍ far. You know​‍ there’s no turning‌ back now. So‌‍‍ don’t cling to‌‍ things like honor.”‍​

With⁠‍​ a hollow gaze,⁠‌ Palmir looked up⁠‌ at the sky.‍ The fact they‌‍‍ had hired a mage was already⁠ out, and the⁠‌‍ heir, Godfrey, had‍ long been a corpse.

The​‌ downfall of House⁠‌ Calix had been⁠ set in stone‍ for quite some‌‌‍ time.

And‌ still, he had‍ come here to‌‍ find a place⁠​ to die fulfilling​ his oath as‍ a knight.

‘Did‌‌‌ I live all⁠​ this time just⁠​ to die like‍ this?’

The‍​ crushing weight of⁠ deep regret tightened​‌ around Palmir’s chest.‌ Even if he⁠​⁠ continued to follow‍‍ a lord already​ in decline, no⁠‍ good ending awaited‌‌ him.

“This‍ time, I’ll go.”​​

“I⁠​‌ leave it to⁠‍ you. I won’t​ forget your sacrifice.”⁠​⁠

At‌⁠⁠ his lord’s flat‌⁠ voice, Palmir only​‍‍ nodded silently.

There⁠ was no reason​‍ to pour heart‍ and soul into⁠​‍ empty courtesy. As‌‌ he drew his‌ sword in silence,‌⁠ the white-armored knight‍⁠ asked,

“You‍‍ won’t say your⁠ name?”

“It’s​ meaningless.”

“I‌‌⁠ see.”

The‍‌ white knight raised‌‍ his sword, sensing​​ Palmir’s despair.

“I​‌ won’t feel pity.‍ No matter what​ happens, it was​ the lord you​ chose yourself.”

“I‍‌ have no way‌ to refute that.”​

With​ a bitter smile,‌​ Palmir raised his‍​⁠ sword. Even in‍ a state of⁠​ resignation, his body​‌​ moved automatically along⁠‍⁠ the optimal path.‍​⁠

Perhaps‌ because he had‍⁠ discarded all useless‌ thoughts, his strike‌ was more perfect‌‌⁠ than ever before—surpassing⁠⁠ the days when⁠⁠⁠ ambition clouded his​ form.

In⁠⁠ the instant he‌⁠ realized he had‍ broken through a barrier, the flash‌​‍ of the opponent’s⁠ blade lit up.​​

In‍‍‍ a fraction of‌ a second, seeing​⁠‍ the arc of‌‌ the blade flying⁠⁠ toward him, Palmir‌ felt admiration.

‘How‌ beautiful.’

That‍ was his final​‍ thought before Palmir’s​‌ head flew into⁠⁠‌ the air.

***‌

Splat.‌⁠

“Hmm.”‍

Another‍‍ head sank into⁠⁠ the mud. For‌‌ the first time,⁠⁠ the white knight⁠ let out a soft sound.

So‌‍‌ many corpses had‌ piled up that⁠‌​ there was hardly‍‌ any space left​​⁠ to stand. They⁠ didn’t deserve pity,⁠⁠ but he still⁠ didn’t enjoy stepping‌ on bodies unnecessarily.⁠

“Better‌ to move over​‍ a bit.”

“……”​‍⁠

“Should​ I go over​ there? Or is⁠‍‍ the next one‍‌ coming here?”

Norvek‍‌ clenched his fists,‍‍ trembling. On the⁠‍ hill covered in‍‌⁠ knight corpses, the‌ white knight didn’t‌ show the slightest​ trace of fatigue.​⁠

He⁠ had expended an​‌ enormous amount of‌ mana reinforcing his⁠ body throughout the‌​ duels. How could‍ a human still⁠‍ be standing?

“…Who​ are you?”

For‍ the first time,‍‍ the eyes that‌⁠ had been fixed‌​ on Lucian turned‌⁠‌ fully toward the⁠ white knight.

“You​⁠​ don’t need to⁠ know.”

“No,⁠ I must know!‍​ I’m not going​​ to sit here‍ watching that brat‍⁠ flaunt someone who‌ isn’t even his⁠ vassal!”

“An​‌‌ outsider?”

“Eisen​​ Brightner! Doesn’t that​‍ so-called Swordmaster feel⁠ ashamed? Helping that‌‍‌ brat just because⁠‌‌ he’s the son‌ of his lord!”‌‌

“Ha.”​‌

If⁠⁠ it wasn’t a Swordmaster, none of​​ this made sense.‍​ At Norvek’s assumption,⁠​⁠ the white knight‌⁠ let out a scornful laugh.

Without‍⁠​ hesitation, the knight​​ reached up to⁠‌​ their helmet. As‌ they removed it,⁠⁠ long hair fell​​‌ to their shoulders.‍‍‌

“Swordmaster?‌‍⁠ What kind of‍​ misunderstanding is that?​ I’m not my‍ father.”

“…!”⁠⁠

“My‍​ name is Felicia‌‌⁠ Brightner. I am⁠‌ a knight in⁠‌ service of the​ duke. I am⁠⁠ fighting for my⁠ lord; I don’t​⁠ see what the‌⁠​ problem is.”

Norvek⁠ bit his lip.⁠‌ At first, he‍ had thought the‍​‌ knight girl was⁠‌‍ just a decoration‍ the boy kept‍ by his side.‍

When​⁠ rumors of the​⁠‍ Swordmaster spread, he⁠ learned she was‌ the adopted daughter​⁠‍ and direct disciple.‌‍

Even​ then, he hadn’t‍​ considered her a threat. No matter‍ how much of​‍⁠ a genius she​‍⁠ was, she was​ still just a budding sprout without‌ real experience.

He‍​ had assumed they‌ wouldn’t bring her‌ to the front‍⁠‍ lines until she⁠​ matured further.

‘…She​ already had enough​‌‍ strength to massacre​‍ any average knight?‌ Damn it!’

The⁠ veteran knights had​⁠⁠ all lost their‍ heads to Felicia.​⁠⁠ The remaining three​ would die the‍‍‌ moment they stepped⁠‍ out.

At‍⁠ this point, dragging​​‌ Lucian out was⁠⁠‍ nearly impossible.

“How​ unfair. Calix is‌‌⁠ wiped out, and‌‌‍ that brat rules‍ the north as⁠‍ the victor.”

“It’s‌‍​ all the result​‌‍ of your own‍‌​ actions. What’s unfair‍ about that?”

“But⁠ if I take‍‌​ the Swordmaster’s disciple⁠ with me, at​‌ least I’ll see⁠⁠​ regret on his‍ face.”

Ignoring​‍‍ Felicia, Norvek muttered‌​ to himself. Then​⁠​ he raised a hand, and the​‍ soldiers in front‌​ of him drew‍ something from behind‍​‌ their thighs.

“Shortbows?”​‍‍

Felicia⁠ murmured, putting her⁠‌ helmet back on.⁠​

In‌‌​ the north, where‍⁠ blizzards were frequent,​‌ large and powerful‍​ bows were preferred.‍‍‌ However, these weren’t​ ordinary bows—they were⁠​‍ so small they‌‍ could be hidden‍‌‍ at the waist.​​

They‍ weren’t for harassment,⁠ but for stabbing‍‌ a blow in‍ the back during‍⁠⁠ an event like​ this.

“Seriously,​‌ even now…”

“Fire!”‌

Before‍‍ Felicia could finish,​‍ the arrows were⁠‍‍ loosed.

It‌ wasn’t a simultaneous⁠‌‌ volley, but rather‌‌‌ five staggered waves.‌

Even‍‌⁠ if she could⁠ deflect them all‌⁠​ at once, continuous​⁠​ fire would be​ impossible to withstand.‌ Just as Norvek​‌ smiled in confidence—​

Thud​ thud thud thud⁠ thud

“…?”​​​

As‌‌⁠ the arrows hit‌‍ Felicia’s armor, a faint light flickered​‍‌ and the arrows‍‌ lost momentum, falling‌ to the ground.‍ They didn’t break‌​ against the metal.​​​

They​​ bounced off without‌⁠ touching her, repelled‌‍ by a subtly​​ deployed runic barrier.‌⁠

Seeing⁠ all five waves​‌​ fail, Norvek cried⁠ out in horror.‍

“This⁠⁠‍ is insane! What​‍​ kind of armor‍‍ is that…?!”

“As‍​ expected. It doesn’t‍‌ disappoint.”

Lucian’s‍⁠ voice pierced Norvek’s‌⁠ ears. Looking up,‌ he saw Lucian⁠‌⁠ slowly approaching, separated⁠ from his troops.​

Realizing‍ he had entered⁠ shortbow range, Norvek’s​ eyes widened.

“What​ are you doing?!‍‌ Fire! Kill him!​‍ Kill him now!”‌

“With‌⁠ what arrows?”

At‍ Lucian’s taunt, Norvek‍​​ clenched his teeth.⁠​‍

They⁠⁠‌ hadn’t brought full‍ quivers—those were hidden⁠​‌ weapons meant not‌‍ to draw attention.‍‍​

Barely‌⁠ enough for a single shot.

“Enough!‍‍ Drop the bows⁠​ and grab your⁠‌ spears! Prepare to‍​‍ charge!”

“……”​‌​

“……”‌

Despite​‌⁠ the order, the​‌‌ soldiers hesitated and​ didn’t move. At‌​​ their unexpected disobedience,​‍‍ Norvek’s face twisted.⁠⁠‌

“What‍‌​ are you doing?!⁠ Prepare to charge!”⁠‍

“No⁠⁠‌ matter how loud​⁠‍ you shout, they‍​‍ won’t obey.”

“What?”‍‍⁠

“Did​‌ you really expect⁠ morale to stay‍​ intact after you⁠‍ used your knights​ like disposable pawns⁠ in front of‌‌ your soldiers?”

Even‍⁠‌ as it was,​⁠ soldiers were treated⁠‌ far worse than​ knights.

And‍‌‌ on top of‌ that, they had‍​ watched the knights‍ be used so​ cruelly. Of course‌ they were thinking‌⁠⁠ they’d be next.‌‍​

There​ was no way⁠ they’d follow an⁠ order to march⁠ toward death.

“If‍ you still had⁠⁠⁠ knights left, maybe‍⁠ you could force‌‌‌ them to move.‍⁠‌ But you crushed​ them with your​​ own hands. There’s⁠⁠‌ no one left‌⁠ to push the⁠ soldiers forward and⁠‍ kill them to​⁠​ set an example.”​

There​ were still three‍⁠‌ left, but they‍​ were irrelevant. Even‌ if their unit⁠​‍ obeyed, the others⁠​ wouldn’t move.

Without‌⁠ support from the​​​ rear, any charge‍ would stall halfway.​‌‌

“The​​‌ shortbow squad moved⁠‌‍ by reflex—they were​‌ trained to respond‌⁠‌ to your signal.⁠ But the rest?⁠‍‌ No. The moment⁠ you stripped away⁠‍ their leadership and⁠ gave them time​‍‍ to think, everything‍⁠ was over.”

“You⁠​ bastard…!”

“Thanks‌‍ to such a foolish count, I came out ahead.⁠‌ With this many‌ people, they’ll make​​ a great workforce.‍‌​ And if they​ bring their families,⁠ the taxes won’t⁠‌⁠ be small.”

Norvek​‍ froze. Had he​​⁠ deliberately reduced casualties​‍‌ to keep the​ population and collect​ taxes? Had he‍‌ used the duel​⁠‍ just to wipe‌ out Calix’s loyal‌ knights?

“It’s‌⁠​ over, old man.”‌‍

As‍​ if confirming his⁠‌‌ suspicions, Lucian smiled.⁠‌ Driven mad by‍​⁠ that expression, Norvek‍​⁠ lunged at him.‌​

“I’ll‍‌‍ kill you—!”

Thud!​

Before⁠‍ he could spit​​ out all his​​‌ curses, Lucian struck‌⁠ him on the‌⁠‌ head with the⁠‌ sword’s sheath. Looking‌‍‍ down at the⁠​‌ fallen lord of‌ House Calix, Lucian⁠​‌ gave the order.​

“Bind​⁠ him. We’ll execute‍⁠ him after transferring‌ him to Asagrim.”‍⁠‍

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