Chapter 27: Gathering of Monsters

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“Haha, Soetu, do you think sir can wipe them all out this time?” Inside a tent, a young man lounged in a chair, addressing the captain who was poring over a map.

“Kenkor, I recognize your potential, and you’re a key talent cultivated by the family, but remember, this is the army camp. Here, I am your commanding officer!” Without even turning around, the captain’s words alone pressed an invisible weight onto the young man behind him.

“What’s he so arrogant for? He’s just a bastard.” Kenkor felt no respect for this so-called uncle of his. As the legitimate heir of the family, he looked down on someone whose mother had merely been a household maid. Still, these thoughts remained unspoken.

“Heh… Who would’ve thought I’d get to see such a show.” A sudden, unexpected voice slipped into the tent. Kenkor instantly drew the slender sword at his waist, eyes sharp and wary.

“Idiot.” The response was a single, mocking retort. Just as Kenkor was about to shout, he realized he could make no sound, clutching his throat as he collapsed to the ground.

“Is it the ‘Blood Knight’ of Britannia?” Soetu, however, remained composed, standing quietly in front of the map.

“No need for you four to know, but out of the kindness of my heart I’ll tell you—it is indeed me.” With that, another spray of blood arced through the air.

Lancer and his companion stepped out of the tent and headed for the next encampment, leaving behind only a patch of earth soaked red with blood.

------ Divider: Trap ------

“Sir, the enemy struck another camp of a hundred men. Now…” A kneeling guard looked up to the man seated at the highest point in the tent.

“Hmph. Send them to meet their maker at the next location, no matter how many we lose!” The man waved his hand dismissively, unconcerned with the casualties. The guard, long accustomed to such disregard for life, turned to relay the order.

------ Divider: A Change in Route ------

“Gawain, don’t you think something’s off? We’ve destroyed three of their camps already, but they don’t seem to be reacting at all. Isn’t that odd?” Lancer glanced at Gawain beside him.

“Indeed. Even if they can’t send messages as quickly as we do with animals, we’re in enemy territory. It’s impossible they haven’t noticed for this long.” Gawain frowned, thinking it over. “Could it be they’ve guessed our real objective? That would mean our next destination…”

The implication was clear: the next place would be an ambush.

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“Hmph, our opponent this time is certainly an egomaniac. If I’d brought all the Stingers, we could’ve wiped them out completely,” he muttered, then added, “We can’t go to the nearest camps anymore—they’re bound to be traps, and if we’re surrounded by the main force, not even we could survive.” With that, he led Gawain off in another direction. Whether by fortune or fate, they went straight toward the enemy’s command post.

------ Divider: Battle Begins ------

“What the—what’s going on?” Gawain knocked aside the arrows flying toward him.

“How should I know? We purposely avoided three camps—do they have some kind of prophecy magic?” Lancer eyed the thousand-strong unit ahead, exasperated. He couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to this camp than met the eye.

“Gawain, did we just stumble into their stronghold by accident?” Lancer didn’t seem too bothered. Gawain’s previous difficulties had come from exhaustion and a lack of reliable companions, but now, with Lancer at his side, his strength was restored. Both men felt confident facing the soldiers before them. Still, they were deep in enemy territory, and reinforcements would surely come soon. There was no sense wasting energy—on the battlefield, conserving one’s strength was the only way to survive, a lesson drilled into every soldier by the veterans.

A sudden, resounding screech startled them both.

“That’s bad! It’s White Night!” White Night was a bird Lancer had rescued as a chick a year ago; now it commanded all military birds. Every knight had been saved by White Night at some point, so besides Lancer, the others were also fond of it. The two stopped toying around and unleashed their True Names.

“Sword of Thirst—Caladbolg!”

“Revolving Sword of Victory—Excalibur Gallatin!”

Although Lancer and his companions had slain some enemies in previous skirmishes, they hadn’t caused significant havoc. But now, fighting seriously, they demonstrated the true meaning of encountering a “Sun Knight”—who burns all before him to ashes—or a “Blood Knight”—who sends his foes into a sea of blood. Their fighting styles differed, yet both were awe-inspiring: Gawain, wielding the holy sword of the sun, incinerated his opponents with every strike, while Lancer’s thunder-imbued weapon, though simple in technique, wrought even more carnage.

When they finally saw the largest command post at the center, both men were stunned, but the reason quickly became clear.

Bang! Out of nowhere, a massive wooden club crashed down before them, sending a cloud of dust billowing across the field.

A monstrous blue-skinned giant appeared before Lancer and Gawain, raising its head to the sky and roaring madly.

“So this was the source of my unease,” Lancer murmured, gazing at the giant.

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“What is that?” “Why is there a thing like that in our camp?” “Ah! Ah!” Countless shouts echoed—the Roman soldiers had lost at least a dozen men to the giant’s first strike.

“Argus Panoptes, the Hundred-Eyed Giant.” Gawain and Lancer immediately recognized the creature; his hundred eyes were too distinctive for anyone to mistake.

But the nightmare was only beginning. Another wave of bone-chilling laughter rippled through the air.

“Hey, what’s going on? All the monsters in this region are gathering—what are they planning?” Lancer spotted an old blue-skinned witch, her face covered in warts and swathed in a brown-black cloak. She belonged to the “Black Annis” clan, the most infamous tribe of cannibal witches in England. Next came Lancer’s old acquaintances—the vampires—followed by other creatures barely resembling humans.

“Beholder,” “Cockatrice,” “Basilisk,” and finally, some monsters lacking even a proper name.

“Gawain, do you think we just interrupted their party?” Lancer swallowed hard. At last, he understood why the mission was considered potentially fatal. If these monsters appeared one by one, they’d be manageable, but together, their weaknesses vanished.

“How should I know! All I know is—run!” Though Gawain was a knight of honor, unlike that shameless fellow, he had no desire for a heroic death.

“Damn it!” Lancer dashed after Gawain, who had already fled.

With a chorus of howls and screeches, the monstrous horde gave chase.

“White Night, you could’ve been more specific,” Lancer grumbled to the bird flying beside him. Whether it was an illusion or not, Gawain thought he saw a bead of sweat trickle down White Night’s brow.

Should I confess that I fell asleep at my computer desk last night?

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