Ch.69Moonlit Night’s End (4)

“Is there a need to come at me one by one?”

“You should all come at once if you want any semblance of balance.”

Najin’s words were clearly provocative.

The one who responded to this provocation was the knight Phileon, who stepped forward. He was the knight who had been kicked by Najin and slammed into a wall before.

The humiliation he had to endure in front of his master.

Phileon had not forgotten that humiliation.

It was a strike permitted by his own carelessness. If they fought again, the result would be different. If he held his sword and faced him head-on in a proper place, he wouldn’t be defeated so pathetically… He truly believed that.

Not accepting defeat, but denying it.

Preserving his pride through denial.

That was the path Phileon had chosen. And, naturally, it was the wrong answer among wrong answers. Of course, Phileon had been given several clues to properly assess the situation.

First, Najin’s mana manipulation speed was unusual.

Second, his physical abilities were extraordinary.

Third, rumors were circulating that Najin had survived a confrontation with the Knight Commander of Albania.

However, Phileon denied what he had seen, dismissed the rumors as false, and ignored the information he could have noted. It was a mistake born from a knight’s pride and stubbornness.

“How incredibly arrogant.”

Phileon approached Najin with a twisted expression.

From the beginning, he had gripped his sword, drawn out its aura, and circulated mana through his body. Leaving his comrades behind with their eyes wide at Najin’s arrogant provocation, he took the lead.

“To treat a knight of Albania as nothing but—”

“You talk too much.”

Interrupting Phileon’s words, Najin threw his sword into the air. An eccentric act of releasing his sword in front of an opponent who had drawn his blade. Before Phileon could guess the meaning behind this action, Najin took a step forward.

The longsword spinning in the air.

Najin stepping forward.

Phileon thrusting his sword at Najin.

Rather than trying to understand Najin’s eccentric behavior, Phileon focused on attacking the approaching Najin. He swung his sword at Najin. While this was a duel and he wouldn’t kill him, no one would blame him if blood stained his blade.

Swoosh!

Phileon swung his sword. The Imperial swordsmanship. The longsword, drawing a clean trajectory, aimed for Najin’s shoulder. It was a strike sufficient to cut down a defenseless opponent approaching without even holding a sword…

Or so Phileon thought.

Denial instead of acceptance. Ignoring rather than acknowledging. And thus, he chose the wrong answer. The wrong answer among wrong answers. Naturally, the price for choosing the wrong answer in a duel is not light.

Grab.

The sword that had been drawing a clean trajectory stopped.

This was because Najin’s casually extended left hand had grabbed both of Phileon’s hands gripping the longsword’s hilt. Phileon, with wide eyes, tried to move his arms but couldn’t budge them at all.

‘What strength…!’

His trapped hands screamed in pain.

Phileon’s brow furrowed. Just as he thought of lifting his foot to kick Najin and create distance, Najin was already moving.

Crack.

Najin kicked Phileon’s knee.

With a crunch, Phileon’s knee bent inward. Sparks flew in Phileon’s vision, and unable to stand any longer, he knelt down. His posture lowered, and naturally, Phileon found himself looking up at Najin.

Both hands trapped. Knees forced down.

Now it was he, not Najin, who was defenseless. The moment Phileon realized this, sparks flew in his vision once more. This time, the pain was felt not in his knee but in his face.

“Kuhk…?”

A questioning groan.

Blood spurting up. The source of the blood was his nose. With a stinging pain at the bridge of his nose, Phileon frowned. He belatedly understood what was happening.

After grabbing his hands with his left hand and forcing them down,

He was striking his face with his clenched right fist.

Crack, crack, crack… Phileon’s vision flickered repeatedly. His head kept tilting backward and then coming forward again. Each time Najin swung his fist, blood sprayed from Phileon’s face.

The watching knights widened their eyes.

Ageshio, Phileon’s master, gasped.

What Najin was showing now was not a duel. It was certainly not a sword duel. It was a one-sided assault. At some point, Najin had released the hand that was holding Phileon’s hands, but Phileon couldn’t think of swinging his sword.

His eyes were already dull and unfocused.

Only then did Najin stop his fists and grab Phileon’s hair to meet his gaze. Najin’s longsword, which he had thrown earlier, came down from its spin in the air and stuck into the ground with a thud.

“Do you want more?”

This is a duel.

A duel doesn’t end until one side acknowledges defeat. The moment he met Najin’s cold eyes, Phileon finally realized.

There was no special meaning to Najin throwing his sword up at the start of the duel. He was simply saying:

I don’t even need a sword against you.

Realizing this, Phileon felt humiliated. But greater than the humiliation was fear. In Najin’s eyes looking down at him, Phileon felt a chill. He answered by lowering his head.

Letting Ageshio’s servants take Phileon away, Najin silently looked at Phileon and his guard knights. Najin was speaking with his gaze. Asking who was next. Saying he wouldn’t stop them if they still wanted to come one by one.

…The knights weighed their options.

Personal pride versus revenge to restore Albania’s reputation. Which was more important? Those who had pledged loyalty to Albania chose the latter. The remaining four knights simultaneously took a step forward. Only then did Najin draw the sword stuck in the ground.

A pure white sword aura rose above the drawn sword.

2.

Some say:

The difference between a warrior who has glimpsed fragments of mental imagery and one who hasn’t is stark. This isn’t limited to sword aura alone. Awakening mental imagery is the process of solidifying one’s soul.

One’s own landscape. One’s own color. One’s own mana.

Humanity has accumulated much over the ages. In an era where all martial arts are ultimately imitations of something, and completely new things have become rare. But mental imagery always remains new, unique, and original.

Because it is one’s own, not an imitation of anything.

Only those who trust themselves can possess it. That firm belief affects the flow of the body and mana itself. It means that the soul is colored, and mana takes on a special form and property.

Again:

The difference between a warrior who has touched even fragments of mental imagery and one who hasn’t is stark. Najin had no match among Sword Experts to begin with. In such a situation, if he had also awakened fragments of mental imagery…

“Kuk, kuhk…”

“Urgh, uweeeeek!”

Terrain, special conditions, first strike, grappling techniques.

Even in a frontal duel where such things were excluded, Najin could overwhelm multiple experts. The proof was unfolding before his eyes.

Knights clutching their stomachs as they fell.

Broken fingers and shattered knees.

With a priest’s help, these injuries could be healed, but they were not injuries that would allow immediate continuation of combat. Unlike the fallen knights, Najin’s body bore only minor scratches.

‘…How on earth?’

Ageshio Albania’s eyes trembled as he watched the process. It was hard to believe even after seeing it. He had never heard of an Expert who could subdue four knights simultaneously.

Isn’t he already at the Sword Seeker level?

What echoed in Ageshio’s ears were the recent rumors circulating in the world. The rumor that this adventurer before him had withstood the Knight Commander of the Albania Duchy. Ageshio had considered it an exaggerated false rumor.

It was a natural assumption.

If the formidable Sir Griffin had been determined, there would have been no contest. Ageshio had thought that either Griffin arrived late or the knights of Trebache had joined from the beginning.

‘But…’

Five fallen knights.

One of them was even subdued barehanded. Seeing such a miserable state… it couldn’t be dismissed as merely a false rumor.

Ageshio looked at the adventurer before him.

Najin was also looking at Ageshio.

In those eyes, Ageshio felt a chill. With a start, Ageshio stepped back. Najin took a step toward such an Ageshio. Ageshio felt goosebumps all over his body.

“St-stop.”

What he felt was fear.

At this moment, with all his guard knights fallen, Ageshio realized there was no one left to protect him. And he couldn’t expect noble etiquette from the adventurer before him.

“I command you to stop!”

He shouted, but Najin didn’t stop.

Eventually, as Ageshio stepped back, he tripped on a stone and fell on his backside. Unable to flee any further, he looked up at Najin. His eyes were trembling.

“Do-do you know who I am…?”

“I don’t care who you are.”

Najin lowered his posture to meet Ageshio’s gaze.

“But let me warn you one thing.”

His sunset-colored eyes gleamed.

Like the eyes of a beast.

“Don’t casually speak of honor and pride. They’re not light enough for someone like you to speak of.”

With those words, Najin stood up.

He turned and walked away, leaving behind the fallen knights and Ageshio. As the sound of his footsteps faded, Ageshio bowed his head, breathing heavily.

The relief that this situation was over and

The humiliation of feeling fear towards a mere adventurer.

With these two emotions coexisting, Ageshio gritted his teeth. He had to realize that he had been thoroughly defeated and had failed.

Tap.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Ageshio raised his head. There was Dieta walking towards him. Dieta stopped in front of Ageshio with an expressionless face.

“You look terrible.”

Dieta looked down at Ageshio.

Looking down, she smiled.

“Young Master Ageshio.”

“Don’t look down on me. You abandoned family—”

“Young Master, I am no longer affiliated with the Albania family. That means I have no reason to endure such insults.”

Dieta cut off Ageshio’s words.

Dieta had completed the process of changing her family name at the Trebache Marquis House. She was no longer Dieta Albania, but Dieta, the merchant magnate of Cambria.

“You challenged my guard and me to a duel, and you lost. There are many witnesses to this scene, so no separate witnesses are needed, right?”

She smiled.

Smiling, she pointed around. The place that Ageshio had originally chosen to humiliate Najin and Dieta had now transformed into a stage that made him feel even more humiliated.

“To the victor, rights.”

She whispered.

“To the loser, consequences.”

The snake’s eyes gleamed.

The bright yellow snake eyes half-opened.

“That’s what a duel is. I’m sure the great young master of Albania wouldn’t be unaware of a common sense that even a mere merchant knows.”

So.

“Let’s talk about the price you have to pay.”

Knights fight duels, merchants collect the results and the price. Dieta had no intention of letting this cash cow go. He was a fat purse that would spill gold coins if turned upside down and shaken.

The Snake that Swallows the Gold Coins smiled.

3.

“…What is this?”

“Your share. What else could it be?”

In Dieta Trading Company’s office.

Najin questioned, pointing at the fat purse and various certificates placed before him. To Najin, who tilted his head, Dieta spoke with a smile.

“It’s the price of the duel. My goodness, I just scratched a little, and he spat out all sorts of things. I’m grateful.”

Things extorted from Ageshio.

Saying so, Dieta chuckled. She seemed to have completely returned to being a merchant.

“Anyway.”

Dieta took a deep breath, looking around the trading company’s office that had returned to her… a place she had missed a little during her time away.

“I’m back here again.”

It now felt like her hometown.

The employees of the trading company sighed in relief as Ageshio left and Dieta returned, and in the case of Passion, who had been guarding the office, he even wept loudly.

Thank goodness, really thank goodness…

Recalling the time it took to calm down the wailing Passion and send him away to wash his face, Dieta smiled bitterly.

“Give me your clothes. I’ll have them all mended.”

Dieta pointed to the coat Najin was wearing.

Although it was armor made of red troll leather and wouldn’t tear easily… considering the opponents Najin had fought, it was natural for it to be in a mess.

“I’ll repay the debt slowly, so look forward to it. You’ll receive lots of things you never expected.”

“It wasn’t something I did to receive anything…”

“I know. You were trying to keep your promise. If you feel uncomfortable receiving it, think of it as an investment.”

“If that’s how you see it, well.”

It was at that moment when Najin answered.

Dieta closed her mouth for a moment. Somehow, the form of address had returned to “Trading Company Master.” It felt a bit disappointing. Of course, it was true that she had returned to being the trading company master… but it felt like he was drawing a line.

‘Come to think of it…’

Has that person ever called me by my name?

Thinking about it carefully, it didn’t seem like he had. Najin was basically someone who showed respect to others and rarely called people by their names casually.

It’s not that she disliked that personality.

Really, it’s not that she disliked it.

But Dieta found herself thinking that she wanted to be called by her name by that person. However, it was embarrassing to say it out loud, so Dieta tried to think of a clever approach.

“Um, you know.”

In the office with just the two of them.

Dieta looked at Najin and spoke carefully.

“Should we speak more casually to each other?”

“…Pardon?”

“Let’s speak casually. We don’t seem to have much age difference.”

“There’s an eight-year difference.”

“That’s your fake age.”

“……”

“See! It is a fake age.”

Seeing Najin slightly avert his gaze, Dieta tapped the table with her palm.

“I’m wondering, you’re not younger than me, are you?”

“……”

“Wait, are you really younger than me?”

Seeing Najin subtly avoiding her gaze, Dieta let out a long “Wow.” Strictly speaking, Najin was 18 and Dieta was 20, but there was no way Dieta could know that.

“You’re not…?”

“Just think of us as similar in age. Eight years isn’t much of a difference.”

“You’re really not giving up on that setting, are you?”

Dieta sighed and opened her mouth.

“Anyway, let’s try speaking casually.”

“…Do we have to?”

“Yes. And it would be even better if you called me by my name.”

After pondering for a moment, Najin sighed and opened his mouth.

“Dieta.”

With a start, Dieta’s shoulders trembled.

“You told me to speak casually, so I am, but is this how it’s done?”

“Ah, y-yes. Umm…”

Dieta mumbled, her lips moving uncertainly.

Her face was bright red, and her eyes were darting around, not knowing where to look.

“M-maybe we can speak casually another time.”

“…Suddenly changing your mind again?”

“J-just calling me by my name is enough for now, I think.”

“If that’s what you want…”

“P-please go home safely. I have a lot of work to do, so…”

With her head bowed deeply, Dieta muttered in a shrinking voice. Najin tilted his head and grabbed the doorknob of the office to open it. As he opened the door, he encountered the returning guard knight Passion.

“Oh, are you leaving already? Let’s talk a bit more…”

Just as Passion was about to speak to Najin with a bright expression, his view caught his master with her head deeply bowed and her face red up to her ears.

…Passion silently looked back and forth between Dieta and Najin.

The strange air between them. The peculiar atmosphere. Passion broke into a cold sweat. Passion is not a knight lacking in perception. The thought ‘Could it be?’ crossed his mind.

“…We can talk later. Go home safely.”

Passion made way for Najin.

It seemed that his master, who appeared to have lost her composure, needed a moment of time.