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…
