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After that incident, Dietrich seemed to have forgotten how to speak. Maintaining a stiff expression, he merely
guided Damon toward where Feldrian was. The two of them continued endlessly
advancing toward Feldrian.
"A good thing, indeed."
Damon, too, showed no particular concern for Dietrich’s sudden change in attitude. Risking his life to
save Dietrich had been precisely to have him lead the way, had it not? Of course,
Damon had his own reasons for needing to go to Feldrian. He was someone who had to
meet someone no matter what. Briefly thinking of his master Doil, Damon gritted his teeth until they creaked.
'I will surely hold him accountable.'
Lost in thought as he walked, he suddenly heard a grim voice from beside him.
"How can I become as cruel as you?"
When he turned his head, he saw Dietrich’s face, his lips bitten tight. As he had done
all along, Damon brushed aside the question. He felt no need to answer. But Dietrich
continued speaking regardless of whether Damon showed interest or not.
"Ever since I was young, I hated this personality of mine. The kind of personality
that freezes up the moment I enter real combat."
"……."
"People called me a sparring master. Of course, they said it with mockery, didn’t they? That’s right. In
sparring alone, I fear no one. Even if my opponent is a Sword Master. But the moment I enter real combat……, the moment I see blood, my whole body stiffens and I can’t
move a muscle. Even a mere puppy……."
Before long, tears were welling thickly in Dietrich’s eyes.
"I wasn’t originally subject to conscription. But I volunteered to join the war. I thought that if I fought on the battlefield,
this personality of mine might be corrected. But the result was……."
Unable to continue, Dietrich lowered his head. Tears trailed
down his face. Damon, who had been walking in silence, stopped. But when he turned his head, Damon’s
face remained devoid of expression.
"You still pick nothing but luxurious words to say."
"……."
"Volunteering for war to fix your personality. Ha! If the Shielders who died as arrow fodder heard that,
they’d be struck speechless, pounding the ground in their graves. Hey! You ignorant brat who knows nothing of the world."
A frigid light gradually began to rise in Damon’s eyes.
"Don’t you know that saying such things is nothing but the talk of someone who’s had his fill? Well, how could high-born nobles like you ever know the lives of commoners? Have you ever, even once, thought about the Shielders’ position? The injured soldiers driven to the front lines holding nothing but a single shield, all under the pretext of
conserving supplies. Those struggling not to die, beaten by their commanders, and even had their throats cut and
left for dead—that’s exactly what you nobles did. You probably can’t understand, but I’m
different. Because my closest friend once fell to becoming a Shielder……."
"Y-you don’t mean...?"
"Shall I tell you one more secret of this war? You probably didn’t know, so make sure
you remember this well. The hundred thousand troops gathered on the Karnatic Plains were actually expendables meant to delay the enemy’s advance."
"Th-that’s absurd."
"Hmph! Is that so? Then where did all those Sword Masters of the famed Ikarott Knight Order
go? And have you ever seen the Feldrian Magic Legion, called the greatest in Truvenia, on the Karnatic Plains
before?"
"……."
"Your high command probably pulled them out in advance. Of course, you high-born nobles would have
preserved your lives intact……. Well, they must have been too terrified to have the leisure to retrieve the ones stuck
under piles of corpses, though."
Unlike before, Dietrich could not offer even a hint of rebuttal.
"The world is not to be believed as it appears. Just as there is darkness where there is light, everything has a hidden
opposite side. Now do you understand that your worries are, in themselves, a luxury?"
Having spat out his words coldly, Damon turned his body as if he had nothing more to say. Dietrich
merely stood there blankly, as if frozen.
Damon’s tongue-lashing proved more effective than expected. It was something that happened after the sun had set that day.
"Enemies."
The moment Damon’s warning rang out, Dietrich drew his sword and flopped down on his belly beside Damon. It was an attitude
that hesitated not in the slightest, unlike before. Maintaining that position, Damon carefully
assessed the enemy’s numbers. Roughly a dozen or so Orc infantrymen were approaching the two
of them in silence. Judging by the situation, they appeared to be a pursuit squad that had followed
them. Because they had approached so quietly, even someone as capable as Damon had nearly failed to
notice. Had it not been for the ominous glint of a glaive reflected in the moonlight, they would have been caught in a surprise attack and fallen into dire
straits. Damon muttered lowly.
"They seem to have tracked us after seeing the corpses of the dead."
"What should I do?"
A grim tone sounded from beside him. Damon opened his eyes wide in surprise.
"Well, if possible, I’d like you to buy some time. It doesn’t matter whether you fight or flee,
but can you draw their attention for roughly a brief while?"
Dietrich rose without a word. And gripping his sword tightly, he dashed toward the enemies without hesitation. At Dietrich’s sudden change in attitude, Damon tilted his head.
"Him?"
However, dealing with the enemy was the priority, so Damon sat down on the spot and crossed his legs. And he began gathering the surrounding mana with all his might.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Clanging of clashing blades and shouts burst out in succession. The sounds of combat continued for quite some
time. Having finished all preparations to unleash his magic, Damon silenced his footsteps and approached that place.
Several Magic Missiles had already formed and were circling around the gauntlet on his right hand.
Having circled around to the rear, Damon first surveyed the battlefield. A strange light
flashed across his eyes.
"Not bad."
The pursuing Orc infantrymen numbered exactly eight. One was already lying dead, and Dietrich was frantically exchanging blows with the remaining seven. Judging by how the fallen one
looked, the dead one seemed to have been taken by surprise. He swung his sword as if possessed. In Dietrich’s
appearance, there was no trace of the timid demeanor he had shown until now. Blood flowed
from various parts of his body, as if he had been injured here and there, but he showed not the slightest concern. He merely
carried out attack and defense blindly. But being at such a numerical disadvantage, being gradually pushed back was unavoidable.
"I won’t need to cast Haste."
Having secretly identified their weak points, Damon shot forward like lightning the moment he saw his chance.
"You bastards."
When an enemy suddenly appeared from behind, the panicked Orcs tried to scatter and respond. But
Damon’s Magic Missiles had already felled four of the Orcs. Because he had rested sufficiently,
sufficient mana had been imbued into the Magic Missiles, and unlike yesterday when he had been exhausted to the bone, their accuracy was
flawless, not a hair’s breadth of error.
"Keck."
The Orcs received fatal blows to the parts unprotected by armor and toppled over with a thud. The Orc infantrymen whose larynxes—or more precisely, the throat vital points where fatal blood points lay—were
crushed could only die on the spot.
"Chi... chiik."
Finally sensing the severity of the situation, the remaining Orcs turned their bodies toward Damon in unison. Abandoning
Dietrich, whom they had been fighting until now. But Damon had already closed to a distance within arm’s reach. Damon brushed past the remaining Orc infantrymen,
driving Magic Missiles into the gaps in their armor.
"Kergh."
The situation was soon concluded. Because they possessed the wind attribute, the Magic Missiles did not miss even the tiniest
gaps in the armor, digging deep. Moreover, because they came flying veiled in darkness, the Orc infantrymen could not
put up even decent resistance. Dusting off his hands, Damon looked at Dietrich with eyes that seemed somewhat softened.
"You know what you have to do now, don’t you?"
With a stiff expression, Dietrich nodded and reversed his grip on his sword before approaching where the Orcs had fallen. The four Orcs struck earlier had their throat vital points ruptured and were already dead. But the three subdued later were not completely dead. Damon had deliberately
suppressed their mana veins. Approaching them, Dietrich this time drove his sword in without any
hesitation.
"Kirk."
The Orc pierced straight through the neck slumped down limply. Dietrich cut the life threads of the other Orcs without hesitation. His face was drenched by spurting blood as their neck arteries were severed, but this time he showed no sign of
minding at all. Watching Dietrich approach after perfectly finishing the task, Damon slowly nodded his head.
"If you don’t kill, you die. If you want to live, kill first. Understand?"
Dietrich nodded with a stiff face.
"What in the world is your true identity?"
"What do you mean?"
"Until now, I thought of you as an Assassin. But taking everything into account,
you are by no means an Assassin."
"……."
"No matter how lacking in real combat experience I am, I am not someone who would lose to a mere Assassin. Your movements approach the level of a knight who has accumulated long years of training. That is why, after losing the duel, I judged you to be a knight hiding his status. Of course, judging by your speech, you must be of common birth,
though."
Damon gave a bitter smile. It was because Dietrich’s words held some
truth.
Assassin (暗殺者). Individuals raised by each kingdom’s intelligence agencies with the primary purpose of assassination or information gathering,
trained in complete secrecy. In a way, they could be compared to the killers (殺手) of the Central Plains. But one difference is that because Assassins also undergo spy training simultaneously, their swordsmanship cannot be said to be excellent. Therefore,
in general, the possibility of an Assassin overcoming a normal knight in combat was virtually nonexistent,
one could say.
But the situation differed when it came to surprise attacks. Because they were beings adept at thoroughly unorthodox surprise attacks and
dirty tricks such as poison, if one let their guard down, even an excellent knight could not easily guarantee his life. Recalling these rough facts about Assassins, Damon
stared silently at Dietrich’s face.
"What exactly is it you want to know?"
A strange light flashed across Dietrich’s pupils.
"When you felled the Orcs, you definitely used magic. Powerful magic capable of rendering even an Ogre helpless.
It passed in an instant, but I was able to see that it was wind-element attack magic. Something like Magic Arrow, for instance."
Having finished speaking, Dietrich looked Damon straight in the eye.
"Movements comparable to a high-ranking knight. Moreover, if you can subdue an Ogre with relatively weak wind-element attack magic, that suggests you truly possess powerful magical ability,
does it not? Furthermore, you cast magic without a magic staff. It is utterly
incomprehensible."
"……."
"I cannot understand any of these facts. Don’t you agree?"
Fed up with the persistent questions, Damon dusted himself off and stood up.
"Is there any need to answer such questions?"
"It is of utmost importance to me."
"Why is that?"
Dietrich’s hand slowly crept toward his sword hilt.
"To my knowledge, there is only one type of being for whom such a thing is possible. Namely, a Death
Knight. Those awakened by the Demon King, beings who should never exist in this world. Only they can use magic alongside outstanding swordsmanship. Just
like you."
So dumbfounded was Damon that words failed him. Watching Damon, Dietrich continued to unravel his own reasoning.
"First, I took note of your wounds. They are severe enough that an ordinary person would be unable to move and bedridden. Yet you move as if nothing is wrong. In other words, it is something inexplicable unless you are a Death Knight who cannot feel pain."
"You really are a hopeless one."
Damon, his anger boiling over, stepped forward.