Ch.400EP.82 – Not a Wandering Knight. Not a Knight Either(9)

“The Sword God, or the man known as the Champion of the War God, the strongest knight of the South, once said…

…that he had a nemesis.

A great warrior of Britain, a hero of the era greater than all of Britain combined.

The master who first gave the Aura user, the superhuman Baltar Grace, the ‘taste of defeat.’

That’s why, even after about a year has passed, Ihan still remembers the name of the person who gave Baltar that taste of defeat.

It was quite a memorable impression, after all.

However, he didn’t remember it too deeply.

Because Baltar had added these words:

“Isn’t he dead?”

…saying he was so dangerous that he killed him with his own hands.

So Ihan hadn’t committed it deeply to memory.

What was the point of remembering someone he could never meet?

But now.

“Why are you talking about killing a perfectly healthy person?”

“No… Hannibal died, I heard it from the person who killed him.”

“…Ah, I was wondering what you meant.”

After momentarily feeling bewildered by his statement about suddenly killing a living person, Diogenes nodded his head.

“The person you say died is probably referring to my great-uncle.”

“Great-uncle?”

“You’re talking about General Hannibal, right? He’s my great-uncle.”

“…”

“Well, even though I call him great-uncle, I’ve never even seen his face. My father immigrated to Pendragon when he was young and met a Pendragon woman who gave birth to me. So I’ve only heard his name, he might as well be a stranger to me.”

“Ah…”

“Don’t make that face. I said he might as well be a stranger, didn’t I? Actually, I think it’s fortunate I never met him. After my great-uncle’s death, the British royal family persecuted Hannibal’s bloodline, and because of that, Hannibal’s descendants quietly disappeared.”

“…I’m sorry to hear that.”

“What’s there to be sorry about? It’s just something that happened decades ago. More importantly, you said you heard it from the person who killed him—I see now you were a knight of Pendragon.”

Diogenes showed clear interest in Ihan’s background rather than his own identity.

Conversely, Ihan felt bad for bringing up what seemed to be a sensitive topic, but he was relieved to have learned about the man’s identity.

‘No wonder he seemed extraordinary.’

He had thought from their first meeting that this man was no ordinary person, but learning he was of Hannibal’s bloodline made things strangely make sense.

Of course, being descended from a hero didn’t automatically make someone great.

How often does a dog get born under a tiger? And this wasn’t even a direct descendant but merely a relative, so forcing a connection would be nonsensical.

Still.

‘From what I can see, this man…’

“You think I’ve inherited the most of Hannibal’s blood, don’t you?”

“…”

“You look surprised at how I read your thoughts. It’s all written on your face—how could I not know?”

“…Uh.”

“Hehehe, it’s not mind reading. I’m just reading the trembling around your eyes and the atmosphere. It’s just a trivial skill.”

“…Can’t you just stop talking?”

“I’m afraid not. I’ve finally got someone to talk to after a week, so please let me chat a bit more.”

“…Hmm.”

Ihan scratched the back of his head, wondering if this was how people felt when he read their thoughts.

* * *

Thanks to the compass, Ihan was smoothly making his way out of the space.

“I’m sure it took me less than three minutes to get in here.”

Compared to entering in less than three minutes, they had already been walking for 30 minutes.

It felt like they were going in circles.

“Don’t doubt the compass. A space filled with hellish demonic energy is no different from another dimension. It’s actually surprising we’re not drifting here for a lifetime.”

“No, I don’t think that’s the case. If there weren’t civilians above, I would have just destroyed everything and escaped.”

“?”

“I have that kind of ability.”

Ihan instinctively felt that if he used his full power to destroy this space, it would be possible.

However, he was restraining himself because he couldn’t gauge how much damage it would cause, not because he felt any fear or claustrophobia about the space itself.

So rather than this kind of space…

“So, are you feeling better?”

“Thanks to you, I’m catching my breath.”

“So you’re still not completely fine.”

He thought it would be more productive to worry about this person.

Diogenes’s condition was serious.

It was already bad enough that he had survived in this dark space for over a week without eating or drinking anything, but surprisingly, he said he had managed this part thanks to a holy technique.

[Holy Technique–<Land Turtle>]

Though it sounded unimpressive by name, it was what they called the ultimate survival technique.

It was an incredible technique that allowed one to regulate metabolism and heart function to survive without water or food for a minimum of three weeks, up to two months.

It was essentially an upgraded version of the fasting technique, and even Ihan couldn’t help but admire it.

He could use the fasting technique himself, but…

‘I can only last ten days at most.’

Holy techniques truly were impressive.

…But no technique, even a holy one, is omnipotent.

Excluding starvation, Diogenes’s condition was indeed serious.

“Don’t worry about it. My belly may be pierced, but as long as I don’t die, it’s fine.”

“…You’re quite positive.”

Whether he was stabbed while being dragged into this place or not, Diogenes had a wound that looked like a knife had been thrust into his abdomen.

The holy technique seemed to have prevented infection or worsening of the wound, but that was just a temporary measure—it was a wound that could prove fatal at any moment.

Now that Ihan had given him potions and shared his dried food and water, he had recovered somewhat, but if Ihan had arrived just a day later…

“I was lucky. I almost went to Avalon for real.”

“I won’t deny that.”

Though he spoke jokingly, Diogenes had truly been close to Avalon.

“You’re quite something yourself, old man.”

“I’m nothing special. But since it seems we still have some time before we can escape, let’s have a productive conversation, shall we?”

“What kind of productive conversation?”

“What else? About the circus troupe.”

“…”

…It did seem like it would be a productive conversation.

“How much have you found out?”

“Not much. All I know is that the suspicious circus group consists of wretched bastards, and the lord is in league with them.”

“That’s quite a lot to have discovered.”

Ihan clicked his tongue, now certain that his suspicions had been correct.

These damn bastards, they’re really up to their usual tricks.

“Any solutions?”

“There might be a way. I’ve roughly thought of one approach.”

“Just one approach? That’s impressive. I don’t think I could have come up with anything.”

He thought it was fortunate he had gone through all this trouble to rescue him.

It was truly fortunate…

“However.”

“?”

“…I’m not sure if there’s enough time left to save them.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not blaming or resenting you for arriving late. This is too horrific a situation for an individual to prevent.”

“…”

“Tsk, that count is strange too. He could have just lived like a king in this territory, but for some reason he’s trying to offer his family and subjects to a demon.”

“…What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I misheard the last part…”

For a moment, Ihan doubted his ears and asked again, and Diogenes made an “ah” gesture and spoke.

“I guess you didn’t know. I thought you already knew.”

“…I just arrived in this territory today, how would I know all that?”

“You looked capable, so I thought you knew.”

“Is that an insult or a compliment?”

“A compliment.”

Flash-!

Suddenly, the light from the compass intensified.

It seemed to be saying they should stop here, and Ihan nodded.

“Now we can get out.”

“I still have much to say.”

“We can talk outside.”

“Well, I wonder if we’ll have time for that?”

“…Haven’t you heard that words can become seeds of disaster?”

“I think I might have?”

Grumbling for him to watch his words, Ihan took a step forward.

And the next moment, as the air clouded with hellish demonic energy disappeared and fresh air enveloped him…

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-!

“…?”

A barrage of throwing weapons rained down on him like bullets.

* * *

“Don’t stop, keep firing!!”

Under the lord’s orders, the soldiers continued to fire their weapons.

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!

Mechanical repeating crossbows.

The power of these crossbows, which used explosive gunpowder to launch bolts, was enough to pierce through the thick hide of a wild boar in an instant.

Whether wild boar or bear, anything hit by dozens of these bolts would be completely disintegrated without leaving even a bone fragment.

In reality, it was too cruel a weapon, one that shouldn’t be used except in war.

It was even illegal for a lord to personally possess such weapons.

Yet Count Deniro was committing this crime without hesitation, and his soldiers, despite their uneasiness, had no choice but to fire the crossbows.

It was an order, after all.

However.

‘Is this right?’

Wasn’t this excessive force?

They had already fired thousands, no, tens of thousands of bolts.

Yet they were ordered to keep firing without stopping…

What a waste.

Boom!

At some point, the underground prison began to collapse and make ominous sounds due to the soldiers’ crossbow fire.

The underground area was already unstable from the collapsing walls, but the use of these gunpowder weapons made it even more precarious.

Seeing this…

“My, my lord…!”

“Damn it!”

Giovanni and Corin, who were being roughly restrained, couldn’t help but be horrified.

No matter how strong he was, anyone would be helpless against such an attack.

They couldn’t hide their despair as they…

Whoosh!!

…The next moment, what they saw were soldiers flying about a meter from the powerful gust of wind that suddenly swept through, the lord smashed into the ground, and…

“What kind of welcome is this as soon as I come out?”

They saw him standing there with his fist extended, his clothes torn but without a single wound.

“Fi-fire!”

Despite being humiliatingly pinned to the ground, Count Deniro gave the order again, and the soldiers, though hesitant, reflexively raised their crossbows and fired.

Even in a state of panic, the commander’s orders served as a guide.

The count was showing he wasn’t completely incompetent, and the soldiers’ crossbows spewed fire again and shot without hesitation…

Whoosh!!

Thud…

…This time, the soldiers truly lost their will to fight.

The powerful wall of wind pressure created by his intense punch struck them, breaking not only their crossbows but their spirits as well.

And the man who completely shattered their will kindly explained what he had done.

“It’s called the Hundred Step Divine Fist.”

120 meters, or to put it in terms the southern citizens would understand more easily:

“You’d be better off not trying to run within a 131.23 yard radius.”

The knight kindly even converted the distance for them, and thus he threatened the lord and his soldiers.

If you want to live, read the room-