Ch.114The Black Mage and the Black Knight (2)

# Netel, the world of Grim Darker, is a cold dark fantasy setting.

What makes it cold? One could point to the generally cynical attitudes of those living in this world, the corresponding treatment of outsiders, and the overwhelming power of the rulers.

Among these, what I want to highlight now is the overwhelming power of the rulers.

Let me clarify first that this doesn’t mean political power has increased.

To put it indirectly, those living in Grim Darker’s world cannot tolerate rulers who are politically savvy but physically weak.

To be more precise, the weak cannot seize power.

And this strength doesn’t encompass all types of power.

It specifically refers to martial might.

In Grim Darker’s world, those weak in martial prowess cannot hold power. In other words, everyone who holds power possesses martial might.

It’s truly a land of inhuman horrors, demonic reincarnations, and myriad evils.

How could a ruler weak in martial might survive in such a place?

The Five Grand Dukes come to mind as a prime example.

Those originally known as the Five Grand Dukes were recognized powers and nobles everywhere until they were all assassinated by homunculus assassins.

They deserved their status.

All were level 20, with a solid composition of two wizards, one warrior, an assassin, and a hunter, plus the reputation and teamwork built through years of adventuring together.

They were truly strong. It’s just that their opponents, the homunculi, were too powerful.

In this barbaric land, unlike the modern world I used to live in, no one believes that “losing to the strong is nothing to be ashamed of.”

The new Five Grand Dukes who seized power after them faced constant pressure, death threats, and assassination attempts.

Through this, we can understand the people’s love for martial might in Grim Darker’s world.

Perhaps they’d gladly die today if their lord could bench press 2000 pounds.

Even in common villages, the village chief was the strongest in the village, and if a castle lord was weak, a stronger successor would take their head and claim their position.

The world was harsh.

The New Continent was less so, but the Old Continent remained that way.

Man-eating tribes were everywhere, and a cottage you sought for rest might be a monster wearing human skin.

Adventurer, rogue, and bandit were synonymous terms.

And backstabbing adventurers and paying rewards were equally common.

It couldn’t be helped.

In such a land, anyone representing a group must be level 20.

And among the strongest three, the old man before me would certainly make the list.

The monarch of the beastfolk and the continent’s greatest martial artist, the Dragon King.

The Giant King’s bastard and the continent’s greatest swordsman, the Sword Saint.

And finally, the commander of the Black Knights and headmaster of the Anti-Magic School, the Survivor.

Valterok.

He was worthy of being counted among the continent’s strongest.

The countless nicks and scars etched into his armor.

Just looking at them revealed their history.

His black armor, repaired countless times, wrapped around his body like a mottled shadow.

You might not notice from up close, but from a step away, that’s how it appeared.

Despite not being of the giant race, his towering physique could easily be mistaken for one.

And matching that, a quiet yet overwhelming presence that couldn’t be ignored.

It was a fitting appearance for someone who had lived as the knight commander for 300 years while Black Knights died like mayflies around him.

That’s why he was called the Survivor. He had survived for 300 years in this turbulent land of Netel.

Survival in this land meant strength.

Most of us, except for a few, were wary of him.

My sister frowned beside me as she tried to change her eye color. The powerful anti-magic aura emanating from him was interfering with her magic manipulation.

Melody seemed to feel the same as she moved one hand toward her estoc and placed the other on her body.

I knew what she was doing. It was like something I’d seen in the game before.

Wasn’t it said that in the Dueling School, even heartbeats were regulated so that the rhythm of one’s heartbeat could generate magic?

Since the anti-magic aura prevented external manifestation of magic, she was likely casting enhancement spells on her body.

Lorian was different from those two, but still remained cautious.

She moved her hand to the beheading sword at her right hip, fidgeting with the hilt.

Though no blood magic aura was emanating from her body, and her usual crimson armor wasn’t covering her body.

But she was definitely on guard. She was staring at Valterok expressionlessly, without her usual vacant look.

Only three among us weren’t cautious.

Uncle Mourner, who knew who Valterok was but believed that he and his knights wouldn’t attack us.

Me, who knew Valterok wouldn’t attack me.

And finally, Eshatherna, who wasn’t particularly interested in the situation and was just tired and sleepy.

I can understand why Uncle and I aren’t affected by the anti-magic aura since we’re Mourners, but what’s with this crazy woman?

I glanced at Eshatherna, who waved her hand and pointed forward, so I looked ahead again.

Valterok had already taken a step closer.

“Caution. A good virtue.”

An imposing presence matching his deep voice. The pungent smell of iron wafting over.

He had an overall atmosphere like a man forged from steel.

But the temperament in his voice wasn’t so cold.

Rather, he spoke as if impressed by us.

Though his gaze wasn’t visible, his demeanor was clear.

Even as Lorian tilted her head questioningly, he continued.

“Do you know me?”

“I do. If one wants to impersonate someone, they should know at least that much, shouldn’t they?”

“Reasonable. It seems we’ve come to the right place.”

My non-relationship with the Black Knights began when I impersonated them to defeat a black mage.

They must have heard about me through rumors and kept an eye on me since then.

Eventually they learned I wasn’t a Black Knight, but the divinity I obtained stirred powerful figures across the continent.

They came all the way to this New Continent to meet me.

So the obvious question arose.

Why did they come looking for me?

“You didn’t come to harm me, I presume.”

“Why do you think that?”

“If that were the case, crushing me with the Shadow Cradle’s descent function would have been your first move.”

The Shadow Cradle is both a fortress and a siege weapon.

That massive fortress interferes with all magic casting within its radius by its mere existence, and its enormous mass becomes a weapon in itself.

If they wanted to attack, starting by crushing us would be normal.

The fact that they walked up to us instead made their intentions quite obvious.

Valterok had no intention of attacking.

If he did, he wouldn’t have walked down from the air but would have performed a lance charge—no, a lance drop—from above.

I glanced at the lance attached to his back and was convinced.

The power of a lance charge requires acceleration.

There was no acceleration, nor distance to accelerate. Not that it would make this Black Knight any weaker.

I could feel at ease.

When I subtly mentioned this, he let out a short laugh.

“You know us well?”

“I believed you would be trustworthy regardless of how the situation unfolded.”

“Your trust is excessive. We too are merely human. There could always be traitors.”

Though he spoke like a scolding elder, he seemed quite pleased. Well, 300 years is no short time.

If someone has been a knight commander for 300 years, that group already shares its identity with that individual.

Almost no one dislikes being praised. I took my eyes off the lance that had been my final item in many of my builds.

“But since you trust us, this conversation will be easier. Would you kindly guide our advance party?”

Valterok said this, and I smiled.

“I can’t.”

“…Hmm?”

Valterok looked at me quizzically. I smiled at him and said:

“Because this isn’t the place.”

It’s not like we stopped while driving in a car to greet each other, how could I guide them while stopping here?

I didn’t actually say that, but…

*

[Name: Luwellin]

[Race: Immortal]

[Class: Warrior – Mourner 10]

[Reputation: New Star]

[Strength: 24(+7)][Dexterity: 22(+6)][Constitution: 22(+6)]

[Magic: □][Inspiration: □][Charisma: □]

[Play Time: 9,764 hours]

The dungeon’s location was unknown, but the journey itself didn’t take long.

With Black Knights who could “walk the sky,” we just needed to ascend and ask where the nearby mountains were.

So when we returned to the Pantheon, only 4 hours had passed.

Specifically, 4 hours since the abduction and my sister blowing up the dungeon with a nuclear explosion.

Anyway, not much time had passed since we left.

I was standing in front of the Black Knight Castle, located next to the cave at the entrance of the Pantheon, where monsters that served as my mother’s limbs once flowed out.

“I present to you the master of the Cradle.”

Sir Irenicus knelt on one knee in greeting. He and his comrades bowed their heads without hesitation to the knight commander who towered over them.

“Another mission with excellent results, I thank you.”

“Not at all. We merely did what was necessary.”

“I’ll take over from here, so please return to rest and regroup.”

“Understood. Then, Lord Luwellin, I’ll see you later.”

The Black Knight Order had a warm atmosphere. Perhaps because in this world, they only had each other as allies?

They exchanged greetings and returned to the castle with the atmosphere of a truly “family-like company.”

As far as I knew, such an atmosphere couldn’t be created artificially.

It required members who truly regarded each other as family and a solid group cohesion.

I raised my internal evaluation of the Black Knight Order a bit.

Moreover, they were quite thorough.

The Shadow Cradle itself was a formidable fortress, but as soon as it landed, they cleared the surrounding forest, erected palisades, and established defenses.

In that sense, Black Knights who could walk and run through the sky, and use anti-magic power to influence the world, were excellent labor.

Just an hour after landing, sturdy palisades and solid defense lines were already in place around the Cradle.

I watched them working efficiently, then looked at Valterok standing beside me.

“How about we get to the main point now?”

The giant knight, so much taller than me that I had to crane my neck to see his face.

We were standing side by side on top of the newly completed palisade in front of the Cradle.

He was an inorganic existence showing no expression and revealing no emotion, but I knew he held considerable goodwill toward me and my faction.

Thinking about it, it was strange.

Even if he appreciated what I did while impersonating them, this series of actions was excessively favorable.

If the Anti-Magic School were a frivolous place that would cross continents just because the leader of a new faction did something good, it would have perished long ago.

There must be a reason they crossed to the New Continent to meet me.

For example:

[Reputation: New Star]

[New Star / Comprehensive

-The divinity and qualification you’ve obtained aren’t something ordinary people can recognize. But the flame and light you raised that day stirred people’s hearts and ignited their ambitions. It wouldn’t be strange if some people, inspired by that flame, came looking for you!]

The comprehensive reputation titled “New Star.”

Particularly the mention of divinity and qualification within it.

I focused on that. I hadn’t known that among all the powerful figures across the continent, the Black Knights would be the first to recognize that light.

I looked up at Valterok and said:

“You came because of my divinity, didn’t you?”

To this, Valterok quietly nodded.

Under the pressure like a mountain moving, a deep satisfaction could be felt.