Chapter 181: Let Me See Your Resolve
“My lord, what are you—?” the captain of the guard cried out in shock.
None of them understood, but Nolan did.
Pascal pointed the tip of his sword at Nolan, his voice muffled beneath his helmet yet unwavering. “I admire you, Pioneer Knight Nolan. Your ideals have shown me the kingdom’s long-lost hope, and they fill me with shame. But Archduke Demont once saved my life, and I swore eternal loyalty before him. A knight’s oath outweighs life itself. I have already failed the kingdom once—please forgive me, but I cannot betray my vow again. If this is where my life ends, then let it be my atonement.”
At that moment, he was no longer the territorial noble who had compromised with reality. He seemed to become once more the fearless knight of the Southern Legion, charging into battle without fear of death to defend the kingdom.
“If you truly possess the courage and determination to change this country, then prove it with the sword in your hand! Face me… and defeat me!”
His aura surged higher and higher as the power of the Silver Rank erupted from within him at full force. A faint glow lit up along his blade, and magical flames began to burn across it.
“Come, young man! Let me see… your resolve!”
The soldiers of the Black Armored Legion immediately leveled their weapons at Pascal. At a single command from Nolan, they would tear apart this man who dared challenge their lord.
But Nolan raised a hand and stopped them.
He put his helmet back on, the visor snapping shut with a click, then drew Mountain’s Resonance from his waist.
Hank opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but in the end all that came out was a sigh.
“To refuse such an invitation would disgrace the name of a knight.” Nolan seemed to have expected this all along and showed no surprise. “Come then, Sir Pascal. You have your oath, and I have my promise. Then let us decide, in the way of knights, who deserves to continue onward.”
Nolan raised his longsword, its tip pointed straight ahead.
“I will help you reclaim the honor you once lost!”
Under the will of their riders, the two warhorses moved at the same time. Hooves shattered the earth as the two knights—driven by completely different convictions—became blurs rushing toward one another.
Before everyone’s eyes, the two figures crossed paths.
Clang! A clear sword cry rang across the battlefield.
The horses each charged dozens of steps forward before slowly coming to a halt, pawing uneasily at the ground.
With his back to Pascal, Nolan flicked his sword, sending every drop of blood flying from the blade before smoothly sheathing it.
“It seems my will was the stronger one.”
On the horse opposite him, Sir Pascal lowered his head and looked at the sword in his hand. The enchanted weapon of faint-glow rank that had accompanied him for nearly twenty years and slain countless enemies now bore a massive crack down its center.
Crack. The fracture spread rapidly, and the entire sword shattered into pieces that clattered onto the ground.
Immediately afterward, the sturdy knight armor across his chest split apart as well, revealing the blood-soaked lining underneath.
“Pfft—”
A mouthful of blood sprayed from the gaps of his helmet, staining the horse’s neck red.
“Thank you, Knight Nolan. So this is… a strike delivered by the kingdom’s hope? It truly is… powerful beyond words…” He muttered weakly, sounding oddly relieved, “Your resolve… I have witnessed it. In that case… good…”
Before he could finish speaking, his body went limp and he toppled from his horse.
“Sir!”
“My lord!”
The surviving guard knights cried out in grief, collapsing to their knees in tears.
Nolan rode slowly to Pascal’s side and dismounted as well. He bent down and gently lifted Pascal up, supporting him against himself. “Sir Pascal, do not misunderstand. This was not a judgment upon you. This was an honorable knightly duel fought for our respective convictions. There was no victor or loser; only life and death.”
Hearing Nolan say it was not a judgment moved Pascal deeply. His breathing beneath the helmet became noticeably steadier, and the trembling in his body ceased.
He shook his head weakly. “I failed the kingdom… To die in a duel upon the battlefield… I should thank you for your generosity… for granting me the best possible ending…”
His gaze passed over Nolan and landed on Hank, who had approached in silence.
“Old Hank… I never accepted you before… But when it comes to stubbornness and foresight… I can’t deny you… At my home… there are still two fruit trees. Elfin mandarins… they bear fruit in winter… If you ever get the chance… help me water them…”
Hank knelt on one knee before him. Silently, he lowered his visor, seemingly trying to hide something, but the hoarseness in his voice betrayed his emotions. “Farewell… old friend.”
The corner of Pascal’s mouth twitched slightly into a broken yet relieved smile. “Thank you… Witness… the rebirth… of the Elfin… in my place…”
His head tilted to the side, and the last trace of life left him.
Nolan gently laid him back down so his body rested flat upon the ground. “Bury him. Though he was an enemy, he was also a worthy opponent.” Nolan stood and patted Hank on the shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
Hank shook his head and straightened himself once more, though the hand gripping his cigar tightened visibly. “There’s no need to apologize, my lord. Pascal knew full well how despicable the archduke was, yet still chose to blind himself to it. That made him an accomplice to evil. You already gave him the greatest dignity possible.” He took a hard drag from his cigar and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke.
“We won. We should be happier about it!”
At that moment, Vivi and the others finally arrived at Nolan’s side.
Seeing the blood still lingering at the corner of his mouth, Vivi looked heartbroken with worry. “Nolan! You’re hurt? Are you alright?”
Nolan looked at the concerned faces surrounding him—Kayan, Rehanna, Little Donnie… He knew that on this difficult road, he had never truly been alone.
He grinned. “It’s just a minor injury. Leftover aftereffects from fighting that guy Fenrir. Maybe it’ll heal before I even make it back to the lord’s manor. Pack up and return to Coldsteel City! We’ve still got plenty of major things ahead of us!”
***
The Black Armored Legion escorted the long column of prisoners as they began the march back to Coldsteel City.
At the front of the procession, Nolan was describing his battle against “Frost Wolf” Fenrir to Little Donnie and Vivi.
“…At the time, that bastard used a move called ‘Frostbite Domain,’ and the entire river froze solid…”
Even though they already knew the outcome, Vivi and Little Donnie still listened with pounding hearts, gasping in shock from time to time at the intensity of the battle.
Not far behind them, Rehanna, Hank, and Kayan walked side by side. Renee was using the opportunity to practice riding a horse, with a Black Armored Legion soldier leading her mount.
Watching Nolan chatting with the younger members ahead of them, Rehanna could not help sighing in admiration. “The big man’s getting stronger and stronger. He can even defeat a monster like Fenrir on his own now. Back when he killed Yuri, he looked completely drained afterward.”
A thought suddenly occurred to her.
“But why hasn’t he broken through to Gold Rank yet? With his talent and strength, it should’ve happened naturally by now…”
Hank puffed on his cigar as he pondered the same question. Somehow, nobody knew where he kept getting cigars from.
Just then, a commotion suddenly broke out from the rear of the convoy, mixed with angry shouting and curses.
Nolan turned around atop his horse. “What happened?”
Rehanna immediately replied, “Probably a prisoner causing trouble. I’ll go check.”
Nolan nodded. “I’ll leave it to you.”
Middle of the convoy.
A towering, heavily muscled man with blood running down his temple had his hands tied behind his back with coarse rope while three Black Armored Legion soldiers pinned him firmly to the ground. Even so, he continued struggling violently, cursing nonstop like a trapped bull.
Rehanna rode over, frowning. “What’s going on? What’s all this noise about?”
One of the soldiers quickly reported, “Captain Rehanna! This guy just tried to escape!”
The muscular man on the ground jerked his head up at the title. The moment he saw Rehanna, shock filled his face. “Rehanna?!”
Taking a closer look, Rehanna recognized him too. “So I was wondering who had the guts to make trouble even as a prisoner. Turns out it’s you, ‘Mad Bull’ Haka.”
Haka, leader of the “Iron Rhino” mercenary group, which had once rivaled the “Fire Fox” mercenary corps, stared wide-eyed at Rehanna’s imposing black full-body armor. But what shocked him even more was the powerful aura radiating from her—far stronger than before.
“Fire Fox Rehanna? Your strength… why… why has it become so powerful?”
Rehanna brushed back her fiery red hair with one hand, the motion both graceful and tinged with pride. “Don’t call me that anymore. I’m no mercenary now. I am currently a captain of Lord Nolan’s Black Armored Legion.”
Haka froze for a moment before his face twisted into extreme disdain and contempt. “Heh, and here I thought you were above all that. Even though we were always fighting over the title of Demont’s number one mercenary corps, as fellow mercenaries with free will, I used to respect you.”
He spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the ground.
“You’ve fallen, Rehanna! In the end, you still chose to find yourself a master—you chose to become a dog wagging its tail and begging for scraps!”