Chapter 218

Chapter 218
## 218: A Single Blow, Absolute Death

“One strike, a certain kill.”

“What a conceited prick!”

“We should execute him this instant!”

“There are a mere six of them! We have five thousand troops garrisoned in the citadel today. That is more than plenty…!”

Following the exit of King Frederick, the grand hall dissolved into pure pandemonium. It was a preposterous ultimatum, delivered with such an insufferable demeanor! The urge to slay him where he stood was palpable among the crowd. After all, they were only six. There was no logical reason five thousand soldiers should fail to overwhelm them.

‘Serengeti. What is your assessment?’

In the middle of the uproar, Marquis Wyzer shifted his gaze toward Serengeti. She offered a grim shake of her head, her features set in stone. Even as a level 12 transcendent with 1-star status, she found herself unable to easily challenge the overwhelming pressure she had detected from those men just moments before.

‘Good heavens. If even Serengeti reacts this way, the danger is immense.’

Marquis Wyzer was intimately acquainted with Serengeti’s character. She was the White Knight, a woman who loathed unfairness and would charge any adversary regardless of their power. For someone like her to visibly recoil meant she couldn’t even fathom the depth of their strength. Exactly how formidable were these visitors? Hadn’t Serengeti reached such heights alongside Randolph that no one in the lands of men could rival her?

“…If we are to present five combatants tomorrow, who is up to the task? Does anyone have a proposal?”

King Balan spoke from his seat of power, rubbing his temples in frustration. When Saint Seia had arrived, he harbored a flicker of hope, but King Frederick had looked upon her with utter indifference. Who could have guessed that intimidation would fall so flat? As the monarch showed his fatigue, the arguments of his subordinates only grew more piercing.

“Your Majesty! Are you suggesting you will submit to this duel?”

“Doing so will only invite further contempt for the Balan Kingdom!”

“We beg you to reconsider!”

The lines on the king’s face etched deeper. Reconsider? Re-evaluate. Essentially, to think it over one more time?

“Do none of you… possess a shred of common sense?”

Finally snapping, King Balan raised his voice. They were allowing their tempers to dictate their words, spewing nonsense.

“The Iron Kingdom currently holds over forty provinces, with a force of more than five hundred knights ready to move at a moment’s notice. Their infantry totals fifty thousand—battle-hardened elites from a hundred campaigns. Do you honestly believe the Balan Kingdom holds any advantage?”

“That is precisely why King Frederick—”

“Are you ignorant of why the Mun Kingdom was erased? They stood exactly where we stand now.”

“But wasn’t that merely an exaggeration?”

King Balan shook his head slowly. The Mun Kingdom was the wretched nation obliterated by the Iron Kingdom. Just as the stories claimed, not a blade of grass or a living soul remained—it was a total slaughter. It concluded so rapidly it could scarcely be called a conflict, leaving almost no witnesses to recount the specifics. But King Balan was privy to the truth.

“King Frederick marched to the Mun Kingdom with his five champions, and they were presented with this very same duel.”

“Did they take the challenge?”

“No, they attempted a treacherous ambush. By the following sunrise, the Mun Kingdom had ceased to exist.”

“…”

A sudden, heavy quiet draped over the room. The Mun Kingdom had been roughly the same scale as the Balan Kingdom. If a nation of that size could be reduced to ash in a single day… there was no promise that Balan would not share that destiny. King Balan was not a man of idle talk. If he spoke with such certainty, it had to be factual.

“So, give me your names. Who shall be our five representatives for tomorrow’s contest? And what shall be the sequence?”

“The opening bout is vital for seizing the momentum. If we must pick a champion, surely our realm’s premier swordsman, Bartus, should lead the way, correct?”

“Indeed, Bartus is our most reliable choice. Duke Saiyen?”

the youthful noble known as Duke Saiyen stepped into the light. He had taken command of his house after the previous patriarch—a man once counted among the Eight Heroes called Maxim—had been murdered. Almost instantly, the warrior Bartus, positioned at the duke’s side, pulled back his shoulders and held his chin high with pride. The kingdom’s finest. No one disputed the claim.

“…Regardless, wouldn’t Lady Serengeti be a superior choice? The White Knight survived the great expedition, did she not?”

“Do not even bring up that disastrous journey where they were butchered. What is there to admire in such a failure?”

While some held that view, the young Duke Saiyen cut them down with sharp, biting words. If his own vassal led the charge and struck down King Frederick’s champion, his influence within the court would be immovable. The stain of being associated with an assassination by a nobody like Maxim would be erased. More than anything, because the scandal arose from taking Maxim—one of the Eight Heroes—into their service, Duke Saiyen loathed even the mention of the “great expedition.”

“Furthermore, I received word from my late father that Lady Serengeti returned from that journey as a hollow shell. One must wonder if she can even summon the strength she possessed in her prime.”

“…Lady Serengeti suffers from no such decline, Duke Saiyen.”

Marquis Wyzer fired back instantly. Serengeti had indeed returned from that ill-fated trek broken. She had been haunted by the Demon King’s blight, clinging to consciousness. The memory alone made Marquis Wyzer’s blood boil with regret. It was out of pure embarrassment. He had nearly bartered his own child to a withered fool like Duke Saiyen. No matter how bankrupt their lands had become, it was a path he should never have weighed. If Randolph and Hudson hadn’t appeared… the thought was chilling.

At that moment, the youthful Duke Saiyen narrowed his eyes.

“Are you claiming, then, that Lady Serengeti is more capable than my Bartus, Marquis Wyzer?”

“For what other reason would the Knight King have chosen Lady Serengeti over Knight Bartus?”

“The Knight King? Knight King Wilhelm? Ah, yes, the Balan Kingdom once placed all its bets on him. And what did that faith yield us? What remains? Even you, Marquis, surrendered five hundred knights to that cause, did you not?”

This was the primary cause of the Balan Kingdom’s decay. The great expedition, where they had gambled the crown’s very future. Marquis Wyzer had exhausted every resource to train those five hundred men, only to see them vanish. King Balan and numerous lords had endured ruinous setbacks.

‘But it wasn’t an absolute loss.’

Even so, it wasn’t just a tally of defeats. Knight King Wilhelm. Because of him, the realm had harvested significant benefits. From sterile lands that produced nothing, they had at least gained the reputation of being a “paradise of knights” and pulled in fresh talent—all due to Wilhelm. Even now, his shadow continued to bring in new blood. And that wasn’t the end of it. He had fixed countless issues that had strangled the Balan Kingdom. If one truly added up the gains versus the losses, the kingdom had come out ahead. They had once been a feeble nation, the laughingstock of the Mun Kingdom and all their neighbors.

Marquis Wyzer’s expression grew even more rigid.

“The realm’s current stability is entirely thanks to the Knight King, a fact you seem to have conveniently pushed aside…”

“…That is enough.”

What could be more pathetic than bickering amongst themselves while the enemy stood at the gates? Eventually, King Balan stepped in to bring order.

“Bartus will go first. My personal guard Abdullah will follow second. And Serengeti shall be third.”

“…!”

Marquis Wyzer went still, a slight tremor running through him. In sharp contrast, the young Duke Saiyen flashed a triumphant grin at the Marquis and Serengeti. It was as if he had anticipated this outcome from the very beginning.

—

Bartus.

The premier warrior of the Saiyen household, a technician who had refined his craft until he stood without a peer in the entire realm. His name had frequently been uttered in the same breath as the White Knight Serengeti, often held up for comparison.

‘But I am the more powerful of the two.’

He refused to believe any other reality. She was just a woman. In terms of physical capacity, or the sheer hours of sweat poured into the blade, he wasn’t lacking in the slightest. Bartus still couldn’t grasp why Knight King Wilhelm had selected Serengeti for the great expedition instead of him.

‘Did he simply desire a female companion?’

Wilhelm might have played the role of a virtuous and noble savior on the surface, but those sorts were always the most deceptive. More calculating, impossible to anticipate. If he had been chosen, that mission wouldn’t have crumbled so pathetically.

‘Today, I will demonstrate my superiority once and for all.’

White Knight? Knight King? Those were nothing but ghosts of the past. After this day, every soul in the kingdom would scream his name—Bartus—with adoration. He would no longer be the secondary figure eclipsed by a woman.

Huuuu.

With that conviction, Bartus curled his fingers around his hilt and calmed his racing heart. Every eye was fixed on him. The monarch, the high lords, the rank-and-file. He would validate his status with a display of sheer power.

“King Balan, I see your head isn’t just a decorative weight after all.”

“…”

King Frederick. He struck his palms together once as he saw the kingdom’s champion step out for the contest. Had they attempted an underhanded strike, this hall would already be drenched in fire. King Frederick’s focus then drifted to Bartus.

“However, your judgment of talent seems wanting. I anticipated your most formidable warrior would lead the charge…”

“Knight Bartus is the mightiest man in this kingdom.”

“Is that the case? Then I shall deploy my least capable knight. Shara.”

Tap.

A small figure encased in heavy plate armor stepped into the clearing. The weakest of the five warriors he had escorted.

‘A woman?’

Bartus’s face darkened. No matter the angle, that silhouette was unmistakably female. The slight curve of the breastplate, the delicate line of the neck visible through the joints. Most of all, those eyes. Eyes saturated with a certain charm—there was no chance that was a man.

‘Sending a woman to face me first? Madness.’

To dare stand against him! It was insanity. It was insulting. King Frederick must be the one who was truly blind. It was absurd, but it served his purposes perfectly. Now he could show Serengeti, without a shadow of a doubt, who reigned supreme.

Bartus drew his steel.

‘I have ascended to a new level.’

Shaaaaaa!

Moments later, a shimmering blue radiance pooled along the length of his sword.

“S-Sword aura!”

“Knight Bartus is manifesting the sword aura!”

“Ooooooh—!”

the assembly erupted at the sight of that glowing energy. A sword aura was the hallmark of a true titan. The ultimate manifestation of skill, used only by genuine masters of the craft. And Bartus had brought it to life.

“A miracle for the kingdom!”

“With the sword aura… victory is ours!”

“Long live Knight Bartus!”

The voices merged into a singular roar of support. A smirk tugged at the corner of Bartus’s mouth. Yes, scream until your lungs burn. My name!

True to form, Bartus rolled his shoulders. Masters of the sword aura were a rarity across the whole continent. He stole a glance to the side, and even King Balan’s gaze was filled with profound warmth.

‘This is a stage built solely for me.’

The ideal setting. All that remained was the triumph.

“Apologies, but I plan to conclude this instantly.”

Bartus dropped into his combat stance. He advanced one step. There was no requirement for polite pleasantries for a woman who was about to perish.

Huaaaang!

Pushing his sword aura to its limit, he launched himself off the stone floor like a hurricane.

‘You won’t even perceive your own end, so do not hold a grudge.’

He moved at a velocity that defied the human eye. She wouldn’t even have time to blink! Finally, Bartus’s edge made contact with his target’s throat.

In that exact heartbeat.

Tap.

Thud!

The heavy sound of an object hitting the floor.

“Huh…?”

“What… is…?”

“Why…?”

“What just occurred?”

Terror washed over the faces of everyone who witnessed what had landed. Bartus was the one who had struck, that was certain.

…So why was it Bartus’s head that was tumbling across the stones?