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Chapter 122: I’m Sorry, I’m Not a Knight
In both his past life and this one, Brandon considered himself an ordinary person. The difference lay in the fact that when he discovered he possessed certain abilities, his ambitions naturally grew. Though his goal was to alter the course of Eruin’s history—to prevent the tragedies that once plagued him—this desire wasn’t born out of any sense of grandeur or nobility. Even if his actions might indirectly save many lives, Brandon didn’t see himself as elevated above others. Like any common man, his motivations stemmed first and foremost from his own needs and feelings. He firmly believed this, just as he adhered to the principle of repaying kindness with kindness and grievances with justice. He never felt obligated to constrain himself as though he were some paragon of virtue. Yet, at the same time, he understood the concept of reciprocity. Thus, when Aiko moved, Brandon immediately grasped what was happening.
“Lady Marsha, haven’t I been good to you?”
Muttering inwardly toward the heavens, Brandon dispelled the silence spell and shouted toward Aiko, “Don’t run that way! Come back!”
The young man hesitated for a moment, but Ackerman had already blurred into motion, cutting between them. The colossal creature glanced briefly at Aiko before its gaze settled on Brandon. Though not particularly intelligent, it instinctively recognized who its true target was.
“I mean, running off with my monster without a word isn’t exactly gentlemanly behavior,” Brandon quipped, staring into Ackerman’s myriad compound eyes. His insides twisted with frustration, yet he couldn’t help but maintain a facade of composure. Truthfully, he wanted nothing more than to unleash a torrent of curses at the youth—but Aiko’s selfless act stirred something within him, leaving him caught in a tangled web of conflicting emotions.
After much deliberation, Brandon finally delivered a half-hearted jab.
“Thank you…”
But Aiko merely smiled gratefully at him. He understood well enough that without Brandon’s intervention, he wouldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds against the beast. The gap between gold-rank strength and silver-rank prowess was simply too vast to bridge through conventional means.
Still, Aiko knew the fault lay with him. As a mercenary, he was familiar with the tools of combat. From Brandon’s earlier gestures, he’d recognized the silence spell—a staple in skirmishes, ambushes, and infiltration missions—and realized the magnitude of his mistake.
By luring the monster away, he had dragged Brandon into danger. And yet, despite everything, the injured young man still acted.
Aiko exhaled softly, convinced that the figure before him must be a knight of impeccable character. Raised on tales of chivalry, he had always dreamed of becoming a knight who fought for justice. Though his life as a mercenary might have distanced him from that dream, his ideals remained steadfast. It was this very conviction that made him beloved among the Gray Wolf mercenaries.
“Sir Knight, let us defeat this monster together.”
Aiko drew a deep breath, his voice tinged with excitement. He knew full well that even combined, their strength wouldn’t match a single finger of the creature before them. But if death was inevitable, he resolved to face it bravely. To die alongside a truly righteous knight, Aiko believed, was not misfortune—it was divine favor bestowed upon his aspirations.
But Brandon failed to comprehend this sentiment. “What?”
Before his words could settle, he saw a flash of red light in Ackerman’s countless compound eyes—a precursor to its attack. Brandon’s body tensed instinctively, priming his charge skill to its activation threshold. Yet no blow came. Ackerman had barely turned when Brandon watched Aiko seize the opportunity, lunging forward with a sword strike.
“For crying out loud—are you insane?!”
Brandon nearly covered his eyes in disbelief. A mere mid-to-low silver-rank fighter, barely level 30, charging head-on against a level 65 boss? The outcome was painfully predictable. Sure enough, before Aiko’s blade reached within a meter of Ackerman’s body, a layer of rock-hard shields materialized, blocking his advance entirely.
These hexagonal stone plates formed Ackerman’s strongest passive ability—‘Rock Shield.’ Composed of the toughest granite, they spanned three layers, each over six centimeters thick. Any physical attack entering within a meter of Ackerman triggered the shield automatically, rendering most assaults futile.
Aiko quickly realized his mistake as his strike was halted. Attempting to retreat, it was already too late.
Ackerman swung its petrified limb, unleashing a sharp wind blade followed by a barrage of razor-sharp rock fragments. Aiko braced for death—but instead felt a powerful impact knock him aside. Landing hard, he opened his eyes in astonishment to find Ackerman’s strike had missed its mark.
Pale-faced, he turned to see Brandon rising from the opposite side. Gratitude welled up within him. “Thank you…”
“Damn it all.”
Brandon cursed inwardly. Another charge skill wasted. This young man, while better intentioned than Macaro or Buga, was utterly reckless. How Duke Rhun managed to raise such a clueless heir was beyond him. Clearly, as far as noble upbringing went, this was a complete failure.
Yet Aiko remained oblivious to Brandon’s thoughts. Misinterpreting his silence as contemplation, he steeled himself. After all, hadn’t Brandon saved his life moments ago? Summoning courage, he declared loudly, “Sir Knight! I’ll hold him off—you attack from behind!”
Brandon resisted the urge to cry. Did this guy not realize that attacking from any angle was utterly pointless? Could he use his brain for once? To shut him up, Brandon snapped irritably, “Shut up! Now’s not the time for nonsense.”
“Sorry…”
“Forget it.” Brandon turned away—but as he did, he saw the towering monster charging again like a heavy tank. Facing a level 65 boss’s assault, he dared not hesitate, darting left to exploit its weaker flank. He intended to test whether his armor-piercing attack could penetrate the ‘Rock Shield.’
To his surprise, his evasion succeeded far too easily. Given Ackerman’s sluggish turning speed, it shouldn’t have neglected its flanks so carelessly. Brandon had braced for impact, yet found himself escaping unscathed. Then another possibility occurred to him, sending a cold sweat down his spine. Turning back, he confirmed his suspicion: Aiko stood with his sword raised, directly confronting Ackerman.
“Seriously?”
Abandoning his initial maneuver, Brandon raised his right hand and unleashed a Wind Blast. Though the Ring of the Wind Sovereign had only recharged partially, the gust disrupted Ackerman’s trajectory. Its intended strike to Aiko’s chest veered off-course, landing instead on his left shoulder. Aiko screamed as he was hurled backward into a thicket, where he landed with a dull thud and fell silent.
Brandon retreated hastily, facing the slowly turning monster. “This is bad…” he muttered grimly. With no options left, he could only pray Minnis would arrive soon—but that hope seemed increasingly unrealistic. Perhaps Marsha hadn’t heard his prayers after all.
The forest was eerily quiet, as though only he and Ackerman remained in silent confrontation.
Then, abruptly, a soft chuckle pierced the air.
It was so unexpected—
---
For Antietta, the battle became simpler after Roma joined the fray. Of course, Roma wasn’t eager to reveal how many disintegration crystals she had hoarded. Initially, she provided three, which the mercenaries used to drive the lizardfolk off the platform. Though these forest-dwelling creatures weren’t fully evolved, they at least knew how to protect themselves. Under the command of their lizardfolk officers, they regrouped and charged again.
This time, Roma contributed five crystals before shaking her head adamantly, claiming she had none left.
Roma possessed a natural cunning. By now, she had heard Minnis’s dragon-horn trumpet echoing across the ruins—a prearranged signal indicating the end of the battle ahead. Though reinforcements were still absent, they could at least withdraw.
But Antietta sought a different outcome.
Her orders were simple: “Fleur, retrieve her bag.”
The elven maiden obeyed swiftly. The result? Roma tearfully watched as Antietta rummaged through her peculiar pouch, pulling out five additional crystals. “How did you hide so many? Didn’t I warn you how dangerous these are?”
“I took good care of them!” Roma protested meekly.
“It’s not about that. We’ll talk later…” Antietta sighed. “Fleur, distribute these crystals. We’re preparing a counterattack.”
Fleur nodded and complied.
Clearly, the battle’s conclusion was already written.
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