233. The Age of Heroes, Forged (4)
Bernard didn’t earn the title of Knight Commander by sheer luck. Though it’s hard to say he reached the pinnacle, he was at least a swordsman who had grasped the threads of mastery and was on his way.
However, Diemonica’s physique matched that of a swordsman who had reached the pinnacle—
-Clang!
“Ugh…!”
In the realm of swordsmanship, Fernandez was by no means inexperienced. This wasn’t about fighting demons and monsters. It was about the kind of swordsmanship used against people. The techniques of facing strong opponents.
Daryan’s spear, Kahaeref’s sword, Erik’s axe. And even the King’s Greatsword of Dane. Each of them was considered among the strongest of their era—
-Thud!
Swordsmanship, by nature, is a monster fed by the blood of the strong. Fernandez’s blade deflected Bernard’s longsword and exploited the opening. Strength, and the skill to distribute that strength. The difference in capability was overwhelming.
“You… bastard!”
Bernard’s neck veins bulged. He was being toyed with. The man could have ended his life in an instant if he wanted. There had been countless opportunities. Every exchange of blows brought two or three moments of crisis, and as the exchanges continued, his balance became fatally tangled.
His breath was ragged, almost choking him. Bernard straightened his sword and stepped back, gasping. The man’s stance was high, his sword a standard-issue longsword. His swordsmanship style was close to that of the Eastern Kingdom. But… the aura of the man wielding the sword felt like he was facing a beast.
“Is this… just a concubine?”
“I don’t like that title either.”
Fernandez chuckled. His white teeth gleamed in the shadows. It felt like a hungry beast baring its fangs, and Bernard felt himself shrinking back.
“Do you need more time? Or are you waiting for reinforcements?”
“……”
At least ten exchanges had taken place. It was beyond strange that no one had come despite the loud commotion. Bernard anxiously glanced over Fernandez’s shoulder.
The noise of the banquet hall still echoed between the tents. Soldiers were not far away. If he could just get there…
“If you kill me, you won’t get away with it! I’m the Knight Commander of Levans. My lord is His Majesty the Emperor, and the Imperial Central Administrative Office will punish you!”
“Stop disappointing me, Baron. Your value keeps dropping.”
“…You insolent bastard!”
He tried to swing his sword with a shout, but the hand gripping the hilt trembled weakly, refusing to move forward. Bernard looked at his hand and realized. This was the line of death. Crossing it meant certain death. It was the instinct of a seasoned knight who had been through countless battles.
He turned his gaze to the knight before him. Despite his rude demeanor and relentless swordsmanship, his noble and somewhat pale appearance. His solid, large build. His flawless posture and focus…
The position of Knight Commander wasn’t earned solely through strength and skill. The knight order wasn’t a backstreet gang. The Knight Commander wasn’t necessarily the strongest in the order.
Service record, experience, achievements, respect. And politics. It was the sum of all these things. Of course, there were a few knights stronger than the Knight Commander within the order. But their focus, and the focus of the young man before him, felt different.
The gaze of someone who saw life as a unit. The arrogant attitude of someone who saw battle as merely a process of victory. The eyes of a strong person, one who had fought through the mud and finally risen.
Comparing the strong within the knight order to this man, there might be a chance in the realm of swordsmanship. But in the realm of experience, in the realm of ‘debt,’ the gap was clear.
This was no ordinary gaze of a young knight in his twenties. Levans swallowed hard and slowly sheathed his sword.
“You don’t plan to kill me. What do you want?”
“Now you’re starting to show some usefulness, Baron.”
Fernandez smirked. He leisurely sheathed his sword and waved his hand lightly. To Bernard, it looked almost like a beastman. It was absurd, but somehow it felt like he was using magic…
-Crack!
And then, a sudden burst of sound came from the communication device he was holding. Bernard jumped in surprise and stared at the device. It couldn’t have been poorly made, so why did it suddenly malfunction?
“Hand it over.”
Fernandez snatched the device from Bernard’s hand and quickly examined it. It was sturdy, but not something imbued with complex magic.
“It’s coordinate-fixed, with only a signal transmission function, and the receiver is removed. There’s a circuit for transmitting specific wavelengths… They gave up other functions to increase sensitivity. It has encryption but no decryption. Slow, but not bad. Easy to intercept and use.”
“Do you… study magical engineering? Do beastman noble warriors learn that…? You’re not a mage, are you…?”
“What are you talking about? Of course, I’m a mage. What did you think I was?”
This was a mage’s joke. At least to mages. To Bernard, it was a nightmare disguised as a joke. He had heard of such beings before. Half-legendary, or perhaps from fairy tales meant to scare misbehaving children.
“A… a demon… You’re a demon. That power. And magic! So, Duke Erbe really… really made a pact with a demon…!!”
Fernandez paused for a moment. This misunderstanding felt oddly familiar. And he…
Whenever faced with such misunderstandings, he preferred to use them rather than explain.
“If you know my true identity, you must also know what you have to do, right?”
“I, I will not sell my soul. Demon!”
He was about to say, “I wouldn’t take it even if you gave it to me,” but he paused for a moment. There was still a bit of magic left to use. After sensory amplification and noise isolation, he could use it once more today.
And if he was going to use it, he might as well make it more dramatic. Fernandez smirked. Something more effective, something that would make them too terrified to even think of opposing him.
“Do you think I can’t take it if you don’t give it?”
“W-what?”
His hand smoothly traced a semicircle. Slowly, so that the other could clearly see it with his own eyes. A clinking sound echoed as chains extended from his wrist, wrapping around Bernard’s neck.
“Eek!!”
-Clink!
Bernard hurriedly raised his arm to block, but without any means of countering high-level magic, there was no way to resist. Normally, casting a spell like this would leave traces, which is why it was avoided, but now, it was perfect.
“Now your soul belongs to me, Baron.”
From the end of the chain, from the Adam’s apple to the solar plexus. A black tattoo formed, leaving behind the remnants of dark magic. It was a very intense dark magic, without even the slightest effort to conceal its presence. The knight captain swallowed hard as he looked down at his body, now marked by the clear, invasive symbol of domination.
-Fizzle, bang!
A firework exploded. The sky lit up momentarily, and a long shadow descended. A black halo burned with an unholy light. Bernard slowly bowed his head as he met the young man’s gaze. It was resignation.
* * *
‘The Levans knight captain was easier to deal with than I thought.’
-Compared to our time, it’s a joke.
In his past life, the knight captains of a nation were all martial artists who had reached the pinnacle. Perhaps it was natural. War inevitably forges heroes. In this era, where large-scale conflicts between nations are rare, it’s not strange for knight captains to take on more administrative roles.
Fernandez stroked his chin as he looked down at the campfire in his tent. There was still some time left before his magic reserves fully recovered.
‘By now, Rene Philippa’s forces must have entered Guire.’
-With the Emperor’s attention entirely focused on the west, it must be thrilling. They’re on the brink of achieving the goal of the 50-year war.
‘The moment the enemy is at their weakest is when they are at their happiest.’
Fernandez put down the device he had been fiddling with. Sturdy but simple, a supply-type magic device. Definitely not high-grade equipment to be bestowed upon his closest allies. The Duke of Levans was a disposable pawn.
‘Or perhaps, he doesn’t even see people as more than disposable pawns.’
-A rational way of thinking.
‘Indeed. I should respect that. By giving it my all.’
To the sole Emperor of the Divine Leviathan Empire, reigning alone over millions of subjects. It’s time to present the sweetest poison. Fernandez tapped the device with his fingertip. His magic reserves had fully recovered.
-Flare!
In the dark tent, the small campfire burned with a gloomy green light. A brief noise crackled, and Fernandez stretched out on the sofa, looking down at the fire.
[You called, my lord.]
“How much influence do you have over Cherad Blondtail?”
[As much as you have over me, Cherad also obeys me.]
“If I ordered him to die, would he?”
[Would that be possible?]
Partak chuckled darkly from within the flames.
[But if that young beastman boy must die, then he will.]
Fernandez smirked at that. Soul, or poison. Whatever it was, it meant he had a leash on him. And it was certain to be as vicious as the curse Fernandez had placed on Partak.
So those words were a metaphorical threat, implying that even if Fernandez ordered Partak to die, he wouldn’t obediently comply. That spirit, I like it. Fernandez nodded.
[Command the time.]
“After all battles are lost.”
[Currently, battles are occurring on five fronts. Three of them are insignificant skirmishes, so we can disregard them, but at least Lavirata’s skeletons and the main rebel force are still intact. If you wish for all battles to be lost, you’ll have to conquer Lavirata by force.]
“Not a difficult task. How many days will it take?”
[Within three days, I will drive back all the beastmen on the other fronts. How much bloodshed is appropriate?]
“As much blood as possible. For the Empire, and for the beastmen.”
[Are you planning to summon a demon?]
At that, Fernandez stopped laughing and stared into the flames. Partak calmly met his gaze. Two people, both capable and motivated to summon a demon, locked eyes.
“Isn’t that the situation the Emperor would be most pleased with?”
[You see Lavirata, demons, and beastmen as disposable pawns. Are you planning to create a hero?]
“Wasn’t that your first question? The one who slays monsters and demons should naturally become a hero. Let’s write a fairy tale.”
[It will be a delightful affair. Understood.]
The flames died down. Fernandez toyed with his wine glass, deep in thought. The Empire, and the Emperor, needed a justification. And in the society of the Empire’s nobility, the greater the justification and prestige, the stronger the power.
If word spread that a demon had appeared, that a demon had descended among the beastman warlords in the western wasteland, the Emperor would undoubtedly take action. He would publicize this incident and set a trap to corner Ribue.
Whatever it was, it would work. That Duke Ribue’s propaganda was secretly dealing with the beastman nobility, and the price was the blood of the Imperial Army, resulting in the arrival of a demon. Evidence could be fabricated, and there were already reports of demon cultists active in Duke Ribue’s territory.
“Enjoy it.”
Please, enjoy this situation. Rather than preparing secret schemes while holed up in the Imperial Palace, the gap widens when one willingly takes action.
War tempers heroes with the blood of soldiers. And Vaitas is the god of war. Fernandez looked down at the map of the Empire’s eastern front, lost in thought.
It was a sweet night for wine.
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