Ch.22EP.7 – Irene Windler Is the Next-Door Neighbor (3)

“Why don’t you stay for dinner, Cadet Irene?”

“Pardon?”

“It’s late, and I’d feel bad sending you back empty-handed after you brought this. It’s the least I can do.”

“B-but I prepared this because I wanted to…”

“People need to show some warmth. It wouldn’t be right to send you away like this. Maid.”

“Yes!”

“Please warm up some beef stew and bread.”

“Leave it to me!”

“…Don’t be too enthusiastic about it, please take your time.”

“??”

“I-I’ll help you.”

Irene was a perceptive girl, and she approached Leira to help with the preparations.

Ihan watched with satisfaction as he casually grabbed two hand axes hanging on the wall.

“I’ll go chop some wood while things are being prepared. Cadet Irene, please take care of the maid.”

“Y-yes!”

Somehow everything seemed to be progressing in a haphazard manner.

Though Irene found herself unexpectedly staying for dinner, she was secretly relieved not to be eating alone.

Despite the ghost that constantly chattered inside her, ghosts had no warmth to offer.

‘Is he a considerate person?’

As Irene watched his retreating back, she felt a budding hope that despite his appearance, he might be a thoughtful man who took good care of others.

—However, contrary to her expectations.

Creak.

“……”

The face of the man stepping outside showed no trace of warm affection, only a barren coldness.

* * *

Around the quiet cabin.

While it appeared to be a peaceful scene straight out of a fairy tale, Ihan sensed a disturbance within this tranquil landscape.

He walked forward, gripping the two hand axes.

“Come out.”

-……..

“Just so you know, I only give warnings twice.”

As Ihan’s eyes began to gleam with intensity and his aura gathered—

Whoosh.

‘They’ revealed themselves.

Suspicious figures dressed in black.

There were over thirty of them, and Ihan’s expression remained stern as he faced the black-clad group.

Then.

“Calm yourself. We haven’t come to threaten you.”

The one with the most imposing presence among the black-clad figures spoke up with an excuse, but—

“Ha, if you’re not here to threaten us, why are you exuding such dangerous energy?”

“……”

“Anyone can see you’re a dangerous group.”

An excuse needs to make sense to be believable.

Who would trust someone reeking of blood asking to be trusted?

However.

“The same could be said about you.”

“What?”

“When it comes to danger, you’re no less threatening, commoner. How can we possibly remain calm when someone like you is beside the young lady?”

“…Ha, would you look at this guy?”

The pot calling the kettle black.

Seeing this fellow acting so brazenly made his head cool down instead.

Meanwhile, his heartbeat grew louder, and Ihan slowly—

Thud.

“This won’t do. I might spare the others, but you need a beating.”

“Nonsense.”

Ihan tossed the axes to the ground and approached the black-clad man he disliked the most, who in turn—

“I won’t kill you.”

Seemingly pleased with Ihan’s proposal, he handed his sword to another person and approached.

The next moment.

Thwack!

Kwang!

The two men began exchanging blows without further conversation.

…It was a remarkably abrupt start to a fistfight.

* * *

Ihan’s fists, no, his entire body was strong.

Just having troll genes made his strength extraordinary, and having trained such an exceptional body relentlessly, his physical abilities alone were enough to flatten a knight.

The proof was the vice-captain of the Pollet family’s knights who had been beaten by him the day before.

So in a fistfight, there were few who could defeat Ihan.

Or rather, one shouldn’t engage him in hand-to-hand combat at all.

And yet.

Thwack! Thwack!

Kwang!

Kuung!

It was a real fight.

No, it was more than just a fight.

Crack!

“…I admit you’re quite tough.”

“I thought you only knew how to fight with words?”

“Probably not.”

Kwang!

Ihan was being pushed back.

Though he had never lost in physical combat before, at this moment, he was being driven back.

The black-clad man’s punches were both nimble and masterful, showing he had proper combat training.

It was unusual considering most knights focused solely on weapon techniques, but that wasn’t their concern right now.

Because.

Crack!

Their only interest now was in making the other ‘submit’.

Ihan’s and the black-clad man’s fists collided.

The heavy impact of their fists made a bone-breaking sound, but it wasn’t their bones that broke—it was the stones beneath their feet.

Whoosh!

Ihan threw consecutive jabs like a boxer, with an ominous sound.

His fist traced six trajectories, each capable of tearing skin with just a graze.

However, the black-clad man dodged or deflected all of Ihan’s punches and instead dove into his guard, kicking his shin.

Though lacking in power, there was a sharpness that seemed to dig into the bone.

There are occasionally people like this.

Some put weight into their strikes, while others put a ‘blade’ into them.

His entire body was like a razor—the more hits you allowed, the redder your skin became.

But Ihan’s strikes were no less formidable.

If his opponent’s strikes carried blades, Ihan’s were like hammer blows.

Kuung!

“…Very well, I’ll acknowledge you, commoner. I don’t know about anything else, but your fists are quite fierce.”

When Ihan’s strike hit his stomach, blood trickled from the corner of the black-clad man’s mouth.

It was a blow that should have churned his insides, enough to make anyone collapse.

Yet strangely, the man remained unfazed, causing Ihan to twitch his eyebrow.

“Don’t you want to collapse right now?”

“Still running your mouth, I see.”

Kwang!

Long words weren’t necessary.

The strikes continued, and each time, Ihan and the black-clad man either took the hits directly or deflected each other’s punches and kicks without bothering to defend.

A battle of pride.

It was unclear when it had transformed, but the fight between the two men had now changed into a struggle of pure offense with no defense.

Hit and be hit. Then hit back harder for each hit taken.

It was a fierce exchange of blows between two men who were second to none in striking techniques, and each time their blows swept across the yard, many things shattered with explosive sounds.

Trees were penetrated, rocks crumbled like tofu, and scattered objects around them were half-destroyed.

“……”

“……”

Despite what must have been excruciating pain, neither man uttered a cry as they continued to strike each other, and at some point, more than just striking techniques were mixed in.

Whoosh!

Catch-style wrestling.

A form of wrestling that combines joint locks and chokeholds, known to be gentlemanly, maintaining dignity and etiquette.

However, the catch-style wrestling displayed by the black-clad man was anything but gentlemanly, and instead was as threatening as a snake coiling around its prey.

‘This bastard, he’s a grappler!?’

The completeness of his technique was chillingly impressive.

Ihan had to admit it.

This guy had either trained his entire life in a discipline that matched Ihan’s physical abilities, or he was born with insane talent and physical capabilities.

Excluding outliers like Baltar, he was stronger than anyone Ihan had met so far.

And that was.

‘…Damn, why is this fun?’

Ihan was genuinely excited by the situation, finding it fun.

Despite not being the kind of pervert who enjoyed meeting strong opponents.

And that.

Whoosh!

It made him lose his restraint.

‘What kind of man is this?’

‘Someone who directly confronts Lord Lac…?’

‘…This is absurd.’

Meanwhile, the other black-clad men watching the duel expressed silent astonishment.

Who was Lord Lac?

From a young age, he had stood out in training camps, and eventually his skills were recognized to the point where even Duke Galahad called him monstrous.

Because of this, he was bestowed the name ‘Lac (Lake)’, given only to the greatest knight of the Galahad family.

Yet now this Lac was being pushed back in a duel with an unknown knight.

You might ask, why say he’s being pushed back when he’s fighting well?

‘His Lordship has started using techniques.’

He’s using grappling techniques.

Those were methods he used only when running out of stamina during matches with the Order’s captain or their respected lord, Duke Galahad.

That’s why the black-clad men thought it was over.

They knew how refined his techniques were and how terrifying they could be.

…But.

“…That crazy bastard?”

They were astonished again.

It was surprising enough that he had matched Lac’s strikes earlier, but now they were shocked for an entirely different reason.

Crack!!

“Did he just rise up from that position? …With pure strength?”

He, the knight called Ihan, had risen up despite being locked in a hold.

There was a risk of breaking both his arm and shoulder, and his neck was being choked, yet he endured and stood up.

With the sound of his arm and shoulder breaking.

“…He’s insane.”

“It’ll heal eventually anyway.”

“Shall I test that?”

“Go ahead.”

Crack-!

The breaking sound grew louder, but Ihan instead gripped the man more tightly, preventing him from escaping.

Making sure he absolutely couldn’t get away.

“Don’t let go. I’ll finish you off like this.”

“Try it.”

Neither Ihan nor Lac.

Neither showed any intention of giving up as they intensified their aggression.

Sacrificing flesh to gain bone.

Even as his throat was being choked and his shoulder breaking, Ihan prepared to strike down his opponent, while Lac tried to break Ihan’s shoulder with all his might, but was bewildered when it wouldn’t break further.

Just as the conclusion to this life-or-death battle of pride was approaching—

[-Enough.]

“……”

“……”

An ‘irresistible third party’ ordered them to set aside their pride.

[Stop now. Lac, release his arm, and you stop as well.]

“…If this guy lets go first, then maybe.”

“If the commoner admits defeat, I will stop, my lord.”

[…Am I making a request?]

“……”

“……”

[On the count of three, both of you let go. One, two, three-.]

Crack!

Kuung!

“…You didn’t let go?”

“Neither did you.”

[……Sigh.]

They still wouldn’t listen, and blood was drawn again.

Despite everything, these two men refused to end the fight because of their stubborn pride, causing the onlooker to sigh.

Unlike what was written in the documents Ihan had seen, a seemingly normal man without much of the reported madness.

The current lord of Galahad.

‘Blake de Vivian Galahad’ heaved a deep sigh.

Looking at the two uncontrollable young men gave him a headache.