Ch.250EP.55 – The Knight Do Not Speak Falsehoods (6)

“-An axe?”

Iliad tilted his head in confusion.

He was perplexed that his opponent had suddenly thrown his sword to the ground and picked up an axe instead.

“What? Find my axe amusing?”

“…Not amusing, but is it really a suitable weapon for a knight?”

“So you do find it amusing.”

In Pendragon, axes were rarely used as weapons.

The reason being they were considered too crude for knights.

It wasn’t about discriminating against woodcutters, but rather the general perception of axes in society.

Axes were primarily used by bandits or mercenaries, and since there was a limit to how far one could advance with an axe, choosing it as a main weapon was essentially like declaring, “My talent is limited, so I’ll use a simple weapon!”

Of course, no one would openly criticize someone for using an axe, but there was a widespread undercurrent of dismissal, and axes simply weren’t popular weapons.

So when his opponent, someone who had clearly reached considerable skill, pulled out an axe, Iliad couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“How disappointing. A swordsman should fight with a sword until the end. How could you resort to an axe?”

“Be disappointed if you want. I was never one to be fixated on weapons, nor am I a swordsman.”

“…You’re impossible to reason with.”

Swish.

“Don’t come to regret it.”

Perhaps because disappointment had overwhelmed him, Iliad’s blade flashed with a humorless glint.

A swordsmanship that, along with the willow sword, had earned him the title of [Sword Saint] in his twenties.

“This is called ‘Light Sword.'”

Light Sword style.

A new school of swordsmanship that Iliad had conceived in his teens and finally perfected in his twenties.

Whoosh!

The sword energy spread naturally, expanding in all directions.

Inspired by sunlight he had observed one day, this swordsmanship centered around Iliad, whose name meant sun, as sword energy mercilessly consumed the surrounding space, instantly unleashing countless slashes.

Slash!

Everything within a 1km radius around Iliad was cut.

Trees, rocks, hills—absolutely everything.

Even if an iron wall stood in his path, Iliad’s sharp sword energy would demonstrate enough cutting power to slice through it.

Thud-!

…At least, that’s what should have happened.

“Impressive name, but seems lacking in substance.”

“!!”

The next moment, the source of the sword energy was shattered like glass by the axe.

This shouldn’t have broken so easily-!

But regardless of his shock.

“That’s one hit.”

WHACK!!

Ihan’s axe struck Iliad’s jaw with precision.

“Ugh-?!”

People involuntarily groaned in sympathy.

Though they weren’t the ones being hit, they couldn’t help but wince and close their eyes when they heard that sound from Iliad’s jaw—a sound that shouldn’t be heard.

As for Felinshia…

“Ah…!”

She revealed her fragile mental state, tears welling in her eyes as she watched her son being beaten, her hands trembling uncontrollably.

Yet she couldn’t bring herself to intervene because…

“Ah!”

…her grandson was clenching his fist in excitement.

‘Is this really right?’

Feeling as though she had witnessed something unfilial, Felinshia swallowed uncomfortably, trying to think positively.

‘This must be the right path for Iliad to return to us, right?’

She wanted to believe this was part of her son’s healing process.

So…

“H-hang in there…”

Felinshia could only offer encouragement with a tearful expression.

* * *

Ihan genuinely wanted to ask.

WHOOSH!!

‘What kind of nerve does it take to look down on an axe?’

CRASH!!

“Urgh!?”

When you’re just going to be humiliated like this.

“You blocked my sword so easily, but why are you struggling so much with my axe?”

“What kind of…!”

“Why am I so good with an axe, you ask? Of course I am.”

This was my livelihood, you fool.

As a mercenary, he had worked part-time at construction sites.

As a soldier, he had to wield an axe to build palisades and fortifications.

Even after becoming a knight, he was a skilled worker in the construction industry to earn his living expenses.

Having swung an axe for over ten years, it was only natural that he had mastered it, and he had never been half-hearted about it.

‘With an axe, it’s all about that one strike.’

Yes, an axe was indeed a weapon typically used by bandits or mercenaries.

But the reason they favored axes was because the weapon itself was incredibly sturdy and could easily channel enough power to shatter even swords.

In that sense, he and axe techniques were a perfect match.

Crack!

The muscles in Ihan’s back rippled like surging waves.

Focusing his extremely trained body’s abilities solely on destruction, he channeled his strength into the axe. Ihan’s strikes were simple, but their simplicity made them all the more terrifying.

If the Black Lion of the North was born with the ability to release reverse-flowing energy, Ihan’s strength was that of moving mountains.

Through a lifetime of effort and determination, he had acquired enormous strength capable of lifting mountains, step by step.

-Great Power Release!

Though it had no particular name, it embodied Ihan’s philosophy that if there were a Bandit King, he should naturally be able to exert this level of strength. His axe strike came down with this philosophy infused in it.

“!!?”

What good is it to say there’s a technique that nullifies all other techniques?

‘I’ll just keep chopping until it breaks!’

BANG! CRASH! CRAAASH-!!

Ihan’s axe strikes continued.

Whether his opponent blocked or attacked, whether the sword grazed his body or not, he didn’t care—he just mechanically chopped, and chopped again.

Slash!

Swish!

His skin was cut, and blood finally spurted out, but he ignored even that.

And finally…

CRACK!

“Kuhuk…!”

His opponent collapsed first.

The twenty-ninth strike had simultaneously broken the man’s wrists and ankles.

“Was that thirty strikes? No, twenty-nine…”

“Y-you madman! W-what is your body made of?! I cut you so many times, yet you only have scratches!”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

So this is why they say Mains are difficult opponents.

His body was disgustingly tough and hard.

His recovery ability seemed considerable too—no matter how much Ihan hit and broke him, he recovered quickly.

“Wow, so this is what true talent looks like. You dodge or deflect most attacks?”

“T-there’s a limit to mockery!”

“No, I’m being sincere.”

“Huh…?”

Iliad’s expression crumbled.

It had already been crumbling, but seeing it collapse so openly was refreshing.

Suddenly.

“Such brute force that can’t be stopped even by dodging, blocking, or countering… What is this…!”

“Calling me crude is too… no, you’re right. I am crude!”

“……”

Ihan readily admitted it and gladly accepted the insult as a compliment.

“If being crude lets me beat the hell out of talented people, then I’m fine with it.”

No matter how talented the opponent is, no matter how much they attack, just keep hitting them until they fall.

What a straightforward strategy.

“If a tree doesn’t fall after ten strikes, then a hundred… no, a thousand or ten thousand strikes of effort will eventually bring it down.”

That’s why he built his stamina, and that’s why he cultivated his strength—to beat down those talented people.

So Ihan wasn’t offended by being called crude.

Not because he was a pervert who enjoyed being insulted.

“It just feels so good to see people much more talented than me get frustrated.”

It was pleasing to know his efforts weren’t meaningless.

“You’re insane…”

Iliad acknowledged it.

This knight called Ihan was crazier and more dangerous than he had imagined.

So…

“Can you break this too-?”

He needed to go crazy himself.

Crack!

“?”

“You’d better be careful. From now on, even I am prepared to die.”

Crack, crack…

Iliad deliberately dislocated his joints.

To use his arms more like whips.

It was a means to make his already ultra-fast sword energy even faster. This made his already wide-ranging sword energy broader and more fierce.

“‘White Night.'”

─Even the night shall be illuminated by the twilight that brightens the world.

Iliad’s sword energy finally exploded like the illumination of the world.

WHOOSH-!

The sword energy shown earlier seemed like mere play compared to this—light rays exploded so brightly they could blind onlookers, and in the next moment, one might not even realize their neck had been cut, such was its incredible speed.

And not just speed…

Shunk!

It demonstrated overwhelming penetration power, piercing everything in sight until even space itself distorted.

It was impossible to block, and even if Ihan tried to break or endure it as before, thousands or tens of thousands of stabs simultaneously aimed at his neck would likely kill him.

Faced with this thrilling sight that seemed to demonstrate how effort could never overcome talent, Ihan…

“…This isn’t even as good as arrow rain.”

With a disappointed comment, he rolled on the ground like a lazy donkey.

* * *

Ihan doesn’t call things like this “unfair.”

‘War is far more unfair.’

He had unintentionally been deployed to a civil war zone in his previous life, and even in this life, he had spent three years on battlefields without intending to.

Was this more dangerous than machine gun fire, landmines, claymore mines, or snipers in modern warfare?

No.

Was it more brutal than the arrow volleys and charges of tens of thousands of troops he had witnessed over those three years?

No.

Having survived such brutal and unfair situations, Ihan could say:

‘In any crisis, if you don’t panic and keep struggling, you tend to survive.’

Whoosh!

Without lengthy deliberation, Ihan crawled along the ground and rolled without hesitation.

In a way the fairy tale writer, still trying to act like a noble knight despite being consumed by heart demons, would never have imagined.

“Have you ever seen such a wretched person!!”

Wretched.

Yes, nobles who value honor as much as life would rather die than roll and crawl on the ground so pitifully.

They would rather die.

‘Just like those self-righteous bastards.’

Inwardly cursing with words worse than any insult, Ihan sneered.

Yes, his appearance was certainly unsightly.

Crawling and belly-crawling.

These weren’t the actions of a knight but the tactics of a mercenary or soldier—cowardly actions of someone desperately trying to survive.

However.

‘As long as I can face myself, that’s all that matters!’

Above all, if you only care about being dignified…

Crunch!

This is what happens.

“Got you.”

“…!”

Ihan occupied the space behind his opponent and threw his axe.

Iliad reacted quickly, trying to attack him, but.

“I was faster.”

Woong!

The thrown axe, resonating with Ihan’s energy, began turning red with an ominous resonating sound.

Like gradually heating up in a hot furnace…!

“-Claymore, no, do you know what an open version of Mancheonhwau is?”

The axe exploded like a bomb that couldn’t distinguish between friend and foe.