Chapter 14

Columbo was a villain.

He was cruel, sneaky, and shameless enough to enjoy others’ misfortunes without feeling guilty.

Yet, despite being the worst kind of guy, people gathered around Columbo.

Even though his character was hardly admirable, his capabilities were exceptional.

Columbo was eloquent.

He had a keen eye for exploiting others’ weaknesses.

Most importantly, he had outstanding combat skills that overshadowed the thieves in the area.

The dark blue aura emanating from the sword he wielded proved his lethal prowess.

Sword Mastery.

Depending on the region, its name varied, and there were slight differences in principles and techniques, but the basic concept remained similar.

Enhancing weapons through magical power.

The extent of its effectiveness allowed a person to slash through massive logs or rocks with just a blade.

Though there were some variations based on thickness, metal was not an exception.

That’s why Columbo secretly laughed at the sight of the Tin Knight clad in heavy armor.

‘He must have been all pumped up against his underlings. I’ll crush his nose.’

Armor wrapped in metal plates was undoubtedly a powerful weapon on its own.

It could withstand any ordinary cold weapon while carving up opponents indiscriminately.

However, those with skills beyond a certain level didn’t prefer heavy armor.

For a master capable of wielding sword energy, slicing through thin metal plates wasn’t difficult, and making the armor so thick to withstand sword energy would hinder movement altogether.

It was nearly invincible against the weak, but utterly useless when confronting true strength—a measuring stick for competence.

That was the common perception of heavy armor.

The shield strapped to the Tin Knight’s left arm was another reason Columbo underestimated him.

A well-crafted metal armor could serve the purpose of a shield by itself.

Having enough defensive power to withstand any reasonable attack, it was far more efficient to use both hands for offense rather than unnecessarily wielding a shield.

In fact, knights from Columbo’s homeland—known for its many strong warriors—generally preferred large, hefty two-handed swords over one-handed swords and shields.

Growing up watching such knights, Columbo felt the sight of the Tin Knight, armored and wielding a shield, resembled a coward afraid of even the slightest injury.

Klang!

Columbo swung his blade with full force, easily splitting the sword swung by the Tin Knight.

Cheering at the expected result, Columbo poured more strength into his slash.

He intended to sever the right arm of the Tin Knight still gripping a sword.

With a crunch.

Columbo’s eyes widened.

The blade he swung had indeed severed the Tin Knight’s right arm.

The issue was that the ‘cut’ he imagined—“to completely cleave it”—only managed to slice off about half of his forearm.

What’s more, the sensation felt strange.

Instead of flesh and blood being encased in metal plates, the entire arm seemed made of metal—

“Wait, is he not even human?!”

Wham!

The Tin Knight’s low kick detonated against Columbo.

For an ordinary person, the power would have shattered bones, but for Columbo, enhanced by magical power, it was a hit he could barely withstand.

However, he couldn’t stop his posture from faltering.

Before Columbo could regain balance, the edge of the Tin Knight’s shield wedged firmly into his side.

“Gah!”

His mouth involuntarily opened, doubling over as Columbo bent forward.

Gripping his hands together, the Tin Knight struck down onto Columbo’s head.

Even while rolling away to regain fighting stance, Columbo realized the Tin Knight wasn’t about to let him go.

He needed to sever the boss’s head before time ran out.

The Tin Knight was the type who felt satisfied only after clearing sub-missions perfectly.

With his left foot, the Tin Knight stamped down on Columbo’s chest, forcing him into a fix.

Then, he brought his right knee down directly onto Columbo’s neck.

Crunch.

Along with the sound of bones snapping, Columbo’s eyes widened.

Columbo’s hands flailed as if trying to grasp something, swirling in the air… and then, thunk, hit the ground.

The Tin Knight quietly stood, forcibly yanking the severed blade out of his right arm.

There was no blood.

Peering through the fissures, intricate metal machinery filled his arm.

The Tin Knight stared momentarily in fascination, losing interest as he glanced around.

“S-Stop! Don’t come any closer!!”

“I’m so sorry! I apologize! I truly apologize!”

“Damn it, I swear I’ll kill you! I’ll make sure to beat you to death repeatedly!!”

What a bizarre scene it was.

Someone desperately fleeing on the ground, another clutching their head and muttering the same words, while a third wildly swung a sword, drenching himself in blood from his own comrades.

Approaching the bewildered Tin Knight was Dorothea.

Glancing at Columbo’s corpse, which had its neck smashed in, she remarked with a hint of admiration.

“You really killed him in under ten seconds, even against someone who used sword energy.”

[The ‘Tin Knight’ wants to know if sword energy exists here too!]

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘here too,’ but you did experience sword energy yourself, didn’t you? I don’t know why someone capable of using such power was robbing others.”

Although it wasn’t quite the answer he anticipated, the Tin Knight accepted it.

With magic and magical puppets existing, it made sense that sword energy could too.

More than anything, the memory lingering in his body after facing that thief curled up inside him, giving him a sense he could do it if he just tried.

The Tin Knight pointed to the surrounding thieves and asked,

[The ‘Tin Knight’ wants to know why they are acting like that!]

Dorothea shrugged her shoulders.

“I told the nearby spirits to whisper a little to them. There were several spirits rushing in to confront the thieves almost willingly.”

[The ‘Tin Knight’ questioned why she didn’t use that handy technique when they first fled!]

“That’s the wrong order. Since that experience happened, I had to prepare a spell for dealing with multiple opponents. Carrying around a catalyst for every spell is quite a hassle, you know?”

Grumbling slightly, Dorothea squatted on the floor, moving closer to Columbo’s corpse.

Though the state of the crushed corpse was terrible, the expression on Dorothea’s face was endlessly impassive as she placed her hand on his head.

“■■■■■”

With an incomprehensible pronunciation, Dorothea began chanting a long incantation.

“You, what did you do to your boss—Gah!”

Intermittently, some thieves who seemed to snap out of their hallucinations rushed in with wide eyes, but they all became fodder for the Tin Knight’s newfound prowess.

The weapon obtained after slaying the boss, ‘Columbo’s Blade (name given on the spot),’ was satisfying for the Tin Knight.

How long did time pass like this?

Finally, Dorothea’s incantation came to an end.

And.

Shudder!

Columbo’s body, seemingly dead for certain, began to convulse.

In tandem, the Tin Knight’s body trembled slightly.

[The ‘Tin Knight’ cheers, asking if this was a two-phase boss!]

Even without understanding the literal meaning, people have the ability to infer content through context.

Realizing roughly what the Tin Knight was trying to communicate, Dorothea shook her head.

“I’m not telling you to fight, so drop it. And also bring those you’ve slain over here.”

The Tin Knight, though disappointed, complied, stacking the corpses as instructed.

Objectively, it was a scene that could be unsettling, but the Tin Knight and Dorothea remained oblivious.

They were truly two of a kind.

***

A member of Columbo’s gang, Willem, was running through the streets with a desperate expression.

‘Damn it, this is a disaster.’

The start of everything was finding a stunning beauty to his taste at the tavern.

The desire to seduce her was burning, but starting to work on her in the company of his annoying comrades was bound to end badly, regardless of success or failure.

Since most of his comrades were already drunk, Willem boldly embarked on a solo adventure.

Though it meant defying the second-in-command’s order to always stick together, Willem didn’t care much.

As long as an act went unnoticed, it didn’t matter.

Willem’s daring venture was a success and, having enjoyed himself, he returned to the tavern stealthily before his comrades woke up.

By this point, Willem was blissfully unaware, but upon seeing not a single comrade left at the inn, he felt an unsettling chill.

After hearing from the innkeeper that his comrades had hastily rushed to the boss’s and second-in-command’s stronghold, his unease only intensified.

‘Crap, did my solo act get exposed? Is the second-in-command rounding up the team because he’s not handling manpower properly?’

Should he just make a break for it like this? Willem wondered, but ultimately made his way toward the stronghold.

If the situation played out as he feared, he’d surely be in trouble upon returning. But if he fled now, he might lose his head altogether later on.

Hoping desperately that this crisis didn’t pertain to him, Willem ran with all his might.

To cut to the chase, Willem’s hope came true.

“All the slaves were taken?”

“Yeah, some monster bastards broke in and…!”

The situation described to him by a familiar comrade was as follows:

An unidentified knight and his gang invaded their stronghold, killed the second-in-command, and made off with the slaves.

After returning from the castle, the boss, seeing the calamity, gathered everyone for revenge, but due to some strange magic, they succumbed to illusions and fainted.

“Illusions? What on earth was it?”

“Ugh, damn. Don’t ask me. It’s horrifying to even think about. Luckily, those guys didn’t seem inclined to cause any more chaos, just showing us illusions and leaving; if we’d been attacked while unconscious, shivers run down my spine.”

“So no one died, is that it?”

“Right. But next time, we might be in for something much worse, so the boss’s order is that we avoid touching that knight or the slaves. Just let it go this time. Keep that in mind.”

“The second-in-command and our guys are dead, and the boss ordered that?”

Willem couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

The boss he knew was undeniably a cruel and evil villain, but he had always been the kind of leader to take care of his own men.

For such a boss to unilaterally concede after such a setback didn’t make any sense to Willem.

“What else can we do? We can’t all leap to our deaths defeating monsters. The boss likely had no choice either. More than that—”

Suddenly glancing around, the comrade whispered into Willem’s ear.

“Even though the other slaves were taken, the most precious one the boss took to the castle apparently sold for a hefty price. Supposedly, once that slave’s auction is completed and the deal wrapped up, there’ll be lavish rewards for the members. Considering everything that just happened, the share each member gets should only increase, right?”

Upon hearing that, Willem finally grasped the odd atmosphere among the rogue members.

Not only had they suffered a blow from outsiders, but being unable to seek revenge on top of that was undoubtedly humiliating.

Yet it wasn’t entirely bad when weighing the profit they would reap.

So, everyone likely obeyed the boss’s orders without question.

‘But is this really okay?’

While relieved that he probably wouldn’t be hurt directly, a nagging question lingered in a corner of Willem’s mind.

After all, managing things this way could undoubtedly shatter the sense of unity and belonging within the gang.

Eventually, a culture of looking after individual gains rather than caring about the deaths of comrades could develop.

For rogues from other gangs, that might be normal, but for Columbo’s gang, which had been forming some sense of belonging centered around the boss and the second-in-command, it was a critical loss.

More than anything, the authority of Columbo, the boss, would undoubtedly be considerably wounded.

Though the rogues would still follow him, they wouldn’t hold him in the same regard or genuinely serve him anymore.

‘If this is the boss I know, he would rather leap headfirst into danger than go down without a fight, regardless of the fearsome opponent.’

Willem glanced over at the boss, seated in the corner with several senior members.

The boss’s gaze was utterly vacant.

He seemed lost in thought or perhaps devoid of any thoughts at all.

Not just the boss, but all the senior members fell silent, making the atmosphere around them heavy.

Suddenly, Willem noticed that the boss was wrapping a scarf tightly around his neck.

In a season that wasn’t cold at all, his neck was snugly covered, and it struck Willem as odd.

Moreover, the heat that had previously emanated from the boss now seemed to have vanished altogether.

“I think the boss and the senior guys don’t look so good right now?”

Willem’s question prompted a comrade to respond with a sense of inevitability.

“If they were completely fine given the situation, that would be stranger.”

Certainly, Willem nodded in agreement.

Honestly thinking about it, he had no obligation to seriously contemplate the future of the gang or the boss’s condition.

They were rogues.

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