How a Second Life Knight Lives

20. And I am stronger than a knight.

“What the hell? Who is that crazy guy?”

“He seems to be one of the mounted mercenaries of the upper ranks. The soldiers who just fell sent him to deal with the mounted mercenaries.”

“Are the guys who were boasting that knights are not scary on horseback getting smashed by a mere mounted mercenary? Since when did the mounted patrol become so pathetic?”

The commander of the knights, who had been watching the mercenaries of the Powell upper ranks slowly collapse, was annoyed by the sudden appearance of the enemy’s prowess.

He had thought they could win smoothly, but suddenly a variable appeared.

Moreover, he didn’t like the current situation itself, not just the mercenary who suddenly intervened and rampaged.

Pillaging the upper ranks?

It can be done. As long as there are no problems, there’s nothing that can’t be done.

Talking about the honor of a knight is already meaningless with the blood on his hands.

The gold in his hands is even more meaningless.

But now? If asked, he would want to say no.

At least when they left the salt road and entered the mountain path, they should have worked with the bandits.

Fighting in the middle of the salt road like this was close to foolishness.

What were they supposed to do about the countless eyes watching the salt road?

The problem was that Alan, the bandit leader, had acted hastily, saying that all plans had been exposed.

Isn’t it obvious at a glance?

This is just a test!

How did they find out there was a traitor, but couldn’t be sure, so they probed the prime suspect?

To fall for such a shallow trick!

Have they become rusty from collecting tolls while sitting at the crossroads?

Allan, that guy wasn’t that stupid.

He learned of the situation belatedly through the messenger sent by the bandits who had departed first, and hurriedly gathered as many troops as he could and rushed over.

But as he feared, things were turning into a mess.

The bandits who were supposed to back up his knights ran into the trap prepared by the Powell caravan, struggled, and were literally slaughtered.

As a result, the number of troops hastily assembled without filling the quota was overwhelmingly outnumbered by the caravan’s mercenaries.

If a significant number of the troops he brought weren’t knights, they would have turned back as soon as they saw the bandits being massacred.

In battle, numbers are the greatest strength.

But since there were more than ten knights, he thought it was worth a try.

Knights are different from mercenaries.

Trained as combat machines from a young age and armed with high-quality armor and weapons, knights are basically capable of taking on ten men each.

A knight’s armor can deflect most arrows, and a conscript’s clumsy sword strike is no different from being hit with a wooden stick.

Indeed, the ten or so knights lived up to the expectations of their commander and broke the momentum of the Powell caravan.

Among the mercenaries, the skinny guy with dual swords and the wizard who couldn’t properly communicate with his own mystery were unable to cope when the knights took turns dealing with them and eventually fell out of the battle.

If they could shake the enemy a little more, the mercenaries, who were only in it for the money, would surely collapse.

But then, a mercenary on horseback appeared and spectacularly dealt with the cavalry, reviving the mercenaries’ morale.

This was troublesome.

This was the Salt Road. It wasn’t Baron Patson’s territory.

If they dragged on, who knew what variables might arise.

They had to quickly break the mercenaries’ will again.

“He’s not bad. Hesan! Take care of that guy!”

At the commander’s shout, a knight who had been leisurely pushing back the mercenaries nearby raised his hand in signal and left the line.

Hesan aimed his spear at the mercenary charging towards the caravan and advanced.

He knew the commander’s intention to overwhelm the enemy as quickly as possible.

He had just seen the patrol cavalry die absurdly, but such things could happen regardless of skill.

In battle, even those who fought like mad bulls when heated up would become as weak as rabbits once they started to flee.

That was the nature of the battlefield.

So Hesan raised his momentum even more, intending to deal with the enemy in one blow.

But this guy, the weapon he’s holding is not normal, is it?

It’s not even a warhammer, what kind of club is he holding like that?

Hesan raised the dark club and drove his horse towards the glaring enemy.

*

I patted the horse, catching my breath.

Unlike me, who still had plenty of energy, the horse was slowly reaching its limit.

It would have been nice to have a spare horse.

My intention was somewhat successful.

The cheers of my fellow mercenaries told me that my plan had worked. And it was as expected when one of the quite rampant knights turned his horse towards me.

It was natural that I drew aggro since I had been excessively conspicuous, but the result was a bit disappointing.

I had hoped for not one, but two, maybe even three.

The approaching enemy launched a very textbook attack.

It was so textbook that it made me yawn.

He thrust his long spear forward and charged at me.

This isn’t very innovative, is it?

Today, I have fought with a cold mind so far.

I have mechanically taken down enemies without the excitement or fear of battle.

I wasn’t even very tired.

I didn’t feel like I was using my abilities to their maximum.

I couldn’t feel the exhilaration I felt when I pushed back the sailors who were with Mil Yomsang.

Have I become stronger?

Has the MAX limit of my stamina increased since the battle at the harbor?

It was disappointing.

If I could feel that exhilaration one more time, I had a hunch that I could make this sensation, which seemed almost within my grasp, truly mine.

If I crush this guy, will a proper one come out?

I grabbed the reins.

The short rest given to the horse was over.

The enemy’s attack was straightforward.

The tip of the spear was aimed at my chest, and his gaze was no different.

The momentum carried by the spear was tremendous, but it didn’t matter if it didn’t hit.

I deflected the enemy’s spearhead that was aiming for my chest and struck the enemy’s face with the end of my iron club.

Did I mention it before?

The iron club I use is not an ordinary iron club made by rolling up iron plates.

It’s a combat iron club.

The ends on both sides are not as sharp as an awl, but they are pointed like a chisel used to break stones.

Although it is a weapon used like a short spear, depending on how it is used, it can be a much more vicious weapon than a short spear.

Like this.

The end of the iron club pierced through the face guard and reached the inside of the helmet.

A face guard with holes punched in thin iron plates cannot block this attack.

I grabbed the iron club with my right hand and lifted it up.

The corpse of the enemy knight hanging on the iron club swayed.

The eyes of the enemies looking at me turned upside down.

Yes. That’s right.

This much aggro should be drawn.

I shook the iron club towards the enemies.

The corpse of the enemy knight rolled on the ground.

After a moment of silence.

Another cheer erupted from the direction of the wagon.

It was a shout mixed with screams and laughter.

And at the same time.

Three enemy knights sprang out simultaneously.

I felt my heart pump one step faster.

I charged towards my enemies once again.

*

The knight commander was momentarily speechless.

Hesan is not such an incompetent guy.

To be taken down so easily?

And what is that strength?

Could he be someone who has touched the mystical?

If he is a knight who has touched the mystical, he is a very rare one.

“That guy is a mercenary?”

“There was no such person in the intelligence we received.”

“That guy is just a mere mercenary!”

The knight commander shouted.

In his view, someone with such a level of skill could not be a mercenary.

Surely, it was a skilled knight of Kalmar who had disguised himself and infiltrated.

Maybe he was even a disciple of Master Johan.

It must have been the Countess of Kalmar who orchestrated this.

A young woman, no less!

That’s what he thought.

Or perhaps it was a scheme by one of her vassals.

That must be it.

Come to think of it, the Countess of Kalmar always hid behind her vassals.

In that case, this was no time to stay still.

Whether it was someone’s scheme or a prepared move, it couldn’t be just one knight visible in front of him.

It was obvious that the knights of Kalmar were swarming in.

That guy must have jumped out to buy time because the mercenaries of the merchant guild were collapsing faster than expected.

So, a decision had to be made.

To retreat or to fight.

However, before his worries even began, the battle between his knights and the mounted mercenaries started.

*

Three knights were charging towards me.

Each of the three knights was holding a different weapon.

One had a long spear for thrusting.

The original spear had already been used, and the other two had a cavalry sword and a morning star. Three.

All three were in a state of adrenaline overload, their nerves running wild as if they had just come from a battle.

Their breathing was heavy, their pupils dilated, and their faces pale.

In other words, they were in a kind of overclocked state.

So, they were performing better than usual.

And they would be feeling a little different than usual.

A little faster,

A little stronger,

A little more breathless,

That’s the state.

Different from usual.

So a gap appeared.

A very fleeting gap.

The spear passed between my armpits.

Before I could even feel the touch of the spear shaft brushing past, the enemy knight with a horrified expression reached right in front of me.

A horse running at full speed reaches about 60 km/h.

A sturdy man in full armor weighs over 100 kg.

It was as if a 100 kg bulk was flying at 60 km/h and collided with me.

It was no different from being hit by a speeding car.

But I was sure.

I could withstand it.

I placed the iron club against my forearm, using it as a shield.

I crouched, anticipating the impact that would come in a moment.

The moment I collided with the enemy knight, a shock like being struck by a giant hammer hit my entire body.

A loud sound that seemed like it could be heard from a kilometer away resonated through my arm and head.

Even my horse couldn’t withstand the impact and its hind legs buckled, causing it to collapse.

But I wasn’t hurt.

The one who was hurt, no, the one who died was the enemy knight.

He couldn’t hold on to his horse and flew backward.

Rolling on the ground and stopping tens of meters away, he didn’t move at all.

There was no time to confirm the enemy’s death.

As soon as I dismounted from my collapsed horse, two enemies charged at me simultaneously from both sides.

Swish

A cavalry sword aimed at my neck sliced through the air.

At that moment, I dodged the trajectory of the cavalry sword with a light weave, then straightened my bent knees and grabbed the waist of the opponent on the horse.

The belt that secured the scabbard to his waist was much tougher than I thought.

The enemy knight lost control of his horse’s reins and was dragged to the ground.

The enemy had attacked me simultaneously.

While I was pulling one enemy knight off his horse, the other enemy knight had the opportunity to act.

The menacing-looking morning star held by the other enemy knight was aimed at me.

From behind the knight I had pulled down, I firmly grasped his waist belt and the nape of his neck, and as I spun halfway around, I lifted him towards the morning star that was about to strike the back of my head.

He had no choice but to hesitate.

Using his comrade as a shield, it was natural for him to stop his attack.

In such a situation, if he couldn’t control his own weapon and swung it recklessly, he wouldn’t be fit to be a knight.

However, his hesitation was his mistake.

While holding the nape of the enemy knight I used as a shield, I grabbed his hand and thrust my cavalry sword upwards.

The cavalry sword deeply penetrated the unprotected area below the waist, not covered by the iron plate skirt.

The one holding the morning star couldn’t even scream.

The one whose nape I held was the same.

As I shattered the enemy’s waist with the cavalry sword, I simultaneously twisted his neck.

The enemy knight holding the morning star fell from his horse belatedly.

Everyone was watching me.

Four came, and one remained.

The only one standing here was me.

*

The knight commander muttered like a groan.

In an instant.

It was just a brief entanglement!

Such skill and strength, was he truly Master Johan’s disciple?

It was a trap. It was a trap.

In his mind,

Ruined.

Finished.

Only such negative words came to mind.

At that moment, his lieutenant gestured.

As his gaze followed the lieutenant’s gesture, he decided to retreat.

Dust was rising in the distance.

It was the approach of the cavalry.

They must have come to aid the Powell caravan.

We must retreat before they arrive.

The knight commander thought so.

The moment the battle ended.

*

The Powell caravan, having suffered massive damage, declared that further trade was impossible.

And they immediately returned to Kalmar.

The caravan’s officials had to go to Kalmar, worrying more about the exaggerated rumors and slanders that would follow the suspension of trade than the damage itself. They knew well what the suspension of trade meant.

However, upon arriving in Kalmar, the Powell caravan realized that no one was interested in what had happened to them.

Because an incident incomparable to what happened to the Powell caravan had occurred, and all sorts of rumors were rampant.

[The fiancée of Lady Linnea, the Countess of Kalmar, was murdered.

In a brothel, no less.]

It was an explosively scandalous event.