Chapter 210

#210 Chaos of the Tin Knight and the Forest of Deception (4)

The name Lognir once stood for the most noble lineage in a nation called Aeolia.

It used to be that way.

Rulers were noble simply because they were rulers, and they were also dignified.

The blood flowing in their veins granted them the right to govern, and it was an unquestionable ‘given.’

However, war changed everything.

Nations devoured one another, and the winners forced the losers to kneel.

Aeolia was no exception to this tide.

Whether it started from hunger or from a desire not to be consumed, it didn’t matter.

What mattered was that they too had been swept up in the current of turmoil, and to survive the chaos, power was essential.

In that sense, magic was an easily understandable power. Wizards were easily recognizable strong players.

At first, the royal family treated wizards as mere convenient military assets, but before long, they realized that the respect and fear of the people were directed not at them but at the wizards. By then, the strength and authority of the wizards had grown too great to simply cut them off.

To avoid being dethroned, the royal family chose to become wizards themselves.

They began to marry off their sons and daughters to outstanding wizards, even those from backgrounds they would’ve previously snubbed.

They needed to ensure that magical talent flowed in their bloodline.

They surrounded themselves with worthless drifters, granting them power.

This was to make sure that those who tasted the sweetness of power would become their steadfast supporters and shields.

As long as it contributed to the strength of the Tower, they accepted even those who were shunned by others.

This was to compensate for their own tower’s lack of history and knowledge compared to others.

As a result, the Tower of Control managed to gain various assets.

Comparable strength to the Tower of Annihilation. Comparable knowledge to the Tower of Prophecy. Comparable support to the Tower of Guardian.

While they might not have been number one in any field, there was no one who could catch up to the comprehensive strength of the Tower of Control.

Those who had been deployed for this operation were elite members from such a tower.

Once, they were the crème de la crème groomed by a royal family that had once reached the pinnacle, seeking to reclaim that position.

And now, those elites were all sprawled out on the floor.

“Cough!”

“Uhhhhh!”

“Choke, choke!”

Hardly anyone understood what had just happened.

In the raging blizzard, something had flashed, and right after that, everything flipped upside down—that was the extent of their realization.

As the dazed regained their senses, they gaped at the spectacle before them.

It was as if a giant had personally conducted a prank of sweeping the dirt off the floor.

The ground was turned upside down.

The ice barriers set up to block the enemies, along with rocks that had once held firm and deeply rooted trees, were all tangled up in piles of dirt, rolling about.

“…Is this earth attribute’s… top-tier magic?”

“No, it may have created a localized storm.”

“Wouldn’t you need to be at least the level of the Master of the Tower to use something like that solo?”

The wizards who managed to stand up tried to interpret the scene before them with their knowledge.

To correctly analyze the opponent’s power was essential for the correct counteraction in the next step.

However, considering they were in the midst of battle, it could also be viewed as overly relaxed behavior.

To prove this point, a black hand that flew in from somewhere and a cursed arrow cut through their awareness, rendering them silent.

In any case, even if they had been given the leisurely opportunity to contemplate the situation, it was questionable whether they would have arrived at the correct answer.

The idea that such a phenomenon had occurred merely from the ‘swing of a sword’ was something utterly incomprehensible to their common sense.

The only one who fully understood the situation was a single Tin Knight nearby.

And the one who half-understood was Giras Lognir, who had been directly hit by the attack.

Having barely avoided a fatal wound thanks to the familiar acting as a shield, he leaned against a tree, gasping for breath.

The twisted eyes of the young man glared straight at Adelheid.

The blasts of overwhelming power had stripped away all disguises put in place by Dorothea, revealing Adel in her true form.

Giras’s voice dripped with hatred.

“Is that so? Was this all your scheme, Lenart…!”

Adelheid didn’t respond.

She was too busy trying to stabilize the chaos she had momentarily surpassed and making that experience entirely her own.

But her silence seemed to be interpreted differently by her opponent.

“What in the world is your goal? Haven’t we already gotten what we all wanted? Or do you guys really want to do battle!!”

“──.”

For a moment, Adel’s mind went blank.

Giras’s words scattered into pieces, beginning to reassemble in her head like a puzzle.

They had gotten what they wanted.

Who? Lenart and the Tower of Control.

Did he really want to fight?

Then what about before? Was it real or fake?

“─What does that even mean?”

The question that slipped from Adel’s lips struck Giras’s eyes with a moment of varied emotions.

At first, there was anger and distrust as if looking at someone playing dumb.

Then there was suspicion and confusion as if truly believing she knew nothing.

Finally, it was a feeling of dismay, as if he had blurted out something that shouldn’t have been said in a fit of rage.

“You are─”

Bam.

Giras’s words never finished.

A sword stained black with resentment pierced through the tree he was leaning against and impaled his chest.

Blood surged back up his throat, marring his beautiful face grotesquely.

Giras’s hands gripped the sword.

The coldness emanating from his palms coursed through the blade, forcibly halting the flow of blood.

It was an obsession with life that felt almost tenacious.

“With this, you—cough?!”

However, those struggles were futile.

As if the air had escaped a balloon, Giras’s body began to dry up in an instant.

His blood, magical power, life, and even his soul were devoured, reducing Giras to a crumbly state akin to dried mud.

Clang.

A heavy metallic sound rang out.

Once faint like a ghost, his body now possessed a solid and substantial form.

Adel was unaware that this was the result of having consumed someone else’s life force.

She also did not know that the Death Knight, once pushed to the brink of obliteration, had succeeded in counterattacking due to the disturbance caused by her party’s intrusion.

“You!!”

The surviving wizards from the Tower, still standing, charged at the Death Knight.

Fire, ice, storms, rocks—every kind of attack radiated a menacing aura as they aimed to crush the Death Knight.

If the Knight had been their opponent at the beginning of the battle, the attacks would’ve undoubtedly been effective.

However, when the Death Knight revealed itself from the blast, it bore not a single scratch.

The Death Knight raised its sword high.

The black magical energy that emanated from that sword transformed into black tendrils, extending outward in all directions.

The familiars that should have protected the wizards from that attack had long since been obliterated by all the previous skirmishes.

The wizards each attempted to evade using flying magic or defend with barriers, but the black tendrils saw through it all and pierced through, slaughtering the wizards.

Crack! Crunch! Thud!

Hearts were pierced, throats snapped, heads exploded.

The remaining life force and souls that escaped the physical bodies were the perfect feast for the Undead.

Top-tier wizards from across the continent were wiped out in an instant.

As the slaughter escalated, the magical energy and presence emitted by the Death Knight grew denser.

Suddenly, Adel’s gaze met that of the Death Knight.

For reasons unknown, a sense of longing and familiarity led Adel to hesitate in targeting her sword.

But the already fallen knight did not hesitate.

In the blink of an eye, the Death Knight closed the distance to Adel, and its sword came down without any hesitation.

The black blade traced a clean and elegant trajectory.

The knight and the souls comprising the knight had performed the same move hundreds, if not thousands of times.

“Father…?”

The lesson taught by their lord, the swordsmanship of Friedel.

Swinging the sword learned from their lord and master at his own daughter was a crime. The horrific betrayal.

The Death Knight had no reason left to understand such things.

There was no conscience or morality left to feel shame.

The pieces came together.

The tragedy was complete.

[‘The Tin Knight’ shouts that he won’t forgive such bad manners like stealing the finishing blow!]

***

And completely ignoring all that, you barged in.