Chapter 37: Sound of Hooves

The retreat was a success.

A week of fierce battles.

32 dead. 112 wounded.

70% of the demonic beasts in the main border region had been eliminated.

At this overwhelming result, Ransen’s soldiers burned with pride.

“Hey, boss man! Bring the beer out quick!”

“Come on—! We got a fat reward, but if you’re this slow, we can’t even spend it properly!”

Welcomed by the citizens, the returning soldiers holed themselves up in taverns from broad daylight, shaking off the stress that had piled up.

Their loud, elated laughter sparked the other free warriors in the taverns.

“...But are you sure they really wiped out the demonic beasts?”

“Exactly. To do that in just one week, I just can’t....”

Some showed sour faces, while—

“But it must be true, right? Everyone saw the flood of small beasts pouring out.”

“Right. Unless you’d stirred up their nest inside, that number wouldn’t even make sense.”

—others judged more rationally.

As for Ransen’s soldiers, they only brushed off the mutterings of other warriors with boundless, leisurely bravado.

“Hey, hey. Have you ever driven a spear into the neck of a charging Deer-Ox?”

“Yeah, man. Or blocked a Taurund’s club with your shield? That thing was over three and a half meters tall.”

“If you haven’t, don’t talk.”

Just one month and a week.

Ransen’s army already had the flames of camaraderie and pride burning in their chests.

*         *         *

‘That was excellent.’

I was very satisfied with this operation.

Would an artist or a novelist feel this way looking at their own work?

Seeing the tactics and strategies I’d only imagined in my head come to life... thrilling! Nothing less.

Only 32 dead.

Despite how dangerous the mission was, the losses were far fewer than a normal beast subjugation.

It was because the formation held perfectly, providing enough defense.

And also because the Experts, who kept their strength intact, intervened in critical moments to save the soldiers.

All of it was just as I had intended.

Satisfaction. And more satisfaction.

I felt good, and when I came home and scrubbed off a week’s worth of grime with warm water, that was paradise itself.

Billowing warm steam followed me as I headed toward the meeting room.

I was tired, yes, but since Haarun, the Storm King, was aiming for Kinalo and Kashu, the situation was urgent. I planned to get the reports and immediately draft a plan to occupy Kushan City.

But then—

“What’s wrong with your eye?”

In one corner of the meeting table, Varen was lowering his head, awkwardly covering his face with his left hand.

“Ah... Hyung... it’s just....”

“Let me see.”

He kept trying to cover his face, so I stepped closer and pulled his hand away.

“Who did this to you?”

Varen’s left eye was swollen black and blue.

A proper fist-mark, beaten badly.

What the hell? What was going on? This was supposed to be Varen of the Black Eyes.

He wasn’t the one hitting—he got hit?

But who could even land a blow on him in the first place, when he was a Peak Expert....

“Wait.”

Something strange caught the corner of my vision.

“Rivera. Turn your head.”

“Y-yes?!”

“Turn your head. Let me see the left side.”

Our Baron Rivera twisted his neck awkwardly, showing me only his right profile.

“Now.”

At last, with a resigned sigh, Rivera turned—and his left eye too... was blackened with a bruise.

Ah.

So you were hit?

By who?

...I was getting pissed.

“Who was it.”

“T-that’s....”

“My lord. The thing is....”

While Varen and Rivera mumbled, Seah cut in with a blank face.

“Yesterday. Varen oppa was beating some warriors who broke the rules, when some old man picked a fight with him.”

“An old man?”

“Yeah. So they fought—and he ended up like that.”

“And you just let that go?”

“He was too strong. If we fought seriously, the damage would have only spread. And the old man hadn’t broken any rules himself. You know how it is. In Roberland, it’s awkward to make a big deal over warriors throwing punches.”

“So.”

“After hearing the news, Uncle Rivera went to take personal revenge.”

“And ended up like that?”

“Yeah.”

I looked at Varen and Rivera, their heads hung low.

This wasn’t ordinary.

Two of the only four Peak Experts in our city came back beaten.

Forget honor—this was personal. They hit my people?

Who the hell did they think they were?

“Take me to him.”

It was no time for a meeting.

I rose from my seat, sword in hand.

*         *         *

The old man was drinking at , a tavern where many warriors gathered.

What really stoked my anger was how popular he was—warriors clustered around him, eagerly offering him drinks.

“Old man! You were amazing!”

“Exactly! To turn Varen of the Black Eyes into Black-Eyed Varen!”

“Seriously, who is he? With skills like that, his name should be famous!”

They were having a grand time.

‘He beats up my people and gets cheered for it?’

I strode forward.

How should I start this?

Maybe just hit him first and talk later?

As I was weighing it, the old man’s eyes met mine.

“Ah! You’re here!”

He stood, face flushed red with drink.

At that, the warriors around him turned their heads—and their complexions drained pale.

Like a swarm of bees stung by smoke, they scattered back from the old man’s side.

Yes. That’s what you should do.

The Swordmaster who killed Kxias was in a foul mood—people ought to know to stay out of my way.

“Was it you?”

I asked, yet the old man only chuckled, his face utterly unruffled.

“At last, we meet. I’m glad to see you like this.”

“You make it sound like you’ve been waiting.”

“I have. Pleased to meet you. My name is Zahir, under the command of Lord Haarun, the Storm King.”

What?

The Storm King?

Zahir?

Murmurs spread through the tavern.

“Zahir of a Hundred Victories....”

“The strongest Expert....”

“Ah! That scar on his face! How did I not recognize him?”

“Wow....”

Zahir of a Hundred Victories.

I knew him well.

He was a warrior whose fame resounded across Norberju, in Roberland’s northwestern reaches.

A Peak Expert, yet one who fought duels against one hundred other Peak Experts—and won one hundred times. The strongest Expert.

Around here, there were even warriors who respected Zahir more than a Swordmaster.

This was... unsettling.

So Haarun had sent Zahir to me....

But that aside—

“So then.”

I fixed my eyes on Zahir’s.

“You, the so-called strongest Expert.”

Could he see the blue flames flickering in my pupils right now?

“Why did you hit my people?”

Zahir of a Hundred Victories or not.

This wasn’t something I could just let pass.

“Hoho, forgive me. Even at this age, I still can’t quite tame my hot blood... Lord Haarun scolds me about it all the time. Hoho.”

He laughed?

My mood soured further, yet Zahir went on glibly.

“The truth is, I came here today as Lord Haarun’s envoy.”

“Envoy?”

“Lord Haarun holds Lord Ransen in very high regard. He asked me to meet you on a good day, to speak candidly and see if we might join forces.”

Wait.

So what he meant by joining forces was....

“You’re telling me to become the Storm King’s vassal?”

“Vassal, lord, master—what importance do such titles hold? What matters is that heroes meet, exchange intentions, and weigh each other’s measure.”

So that’s what he meant.

Weigh each other’s measure—naturally assuming mine would come up smaller, so I’d become the vassal. That’s what he was thinking.

So I just asked outright.

“If I become his vassal, what’s in it for me?”

The answer came without hesitation.

“Lord Haarun can take charge of excavating and selling the ruins for you.”

“Take charge?”

“Yes. With Lord Haarun’s connections and trade routes, you could gain far greater profit much faster.”

“And?”

“And then you would receive thirty percent of those profits. Without lifting a finger, you would amass great wealth. Surely that benefits both sides?”

...?

So basically, he coveted my Glowingsteel ruins, wanted to take them for himself, and give me just thirty percent of the proceeds?

‘Good heavens....’

It was appalling.

Even if Roberland was a lawless continent, how could he make such a brazen proposal?

“And you call that good for me?”

Even at my blunt question, Zahir didn’t so much as blink.

“Of course. Under Lord Haarun’s protection, Kushan City would connect actively with the great market of Ailun, flourishing even more. And despite these benefits, Lord Haarun would not take a single coin in taxes.”

No taxes?

That was some slippery wordplay.

“Do you even know how much the ruins yield right now? More than one and a half times the city’s entire tax revenue. If you take seventy percent of that, isn’t that already a massive tax?”

His reply was laughable.

“Of course it’s good. Under Lord Haarun’s protection, Lord Ransen, you will have your right to rule Kushan City guaranteed.”

!!!

Warriors who had been pretending not to listen, holding their breath in the back, erupted into a stir.

Katrina, watching from behind, even drew up her aura and strode forward.

“Hey... old man.”

She had tagged along, insisting she would take revenge for Rivera and Varen herself, and now she couldn’t hide her fury.

I held out a hand to stop her.

This was an answer I had to give personally.

Guarantee my rule?

So basically, “Do as you’re told or we’ll kill you,” right?

Well.

Fine.

Nothing had changed.

From the moment I came here, I only had one answer prepared.

“Zahir.”

“Yes, Lord Ransen.”

“This is my answer.”

Baaaak!

Like lightning, my sword hilt struck Zahir square in the right eye.

Whoosh—crash, thud, bang!

Launched into the air, Zahir smashed through several tables and crumpled to the ground.

He rolled noisily, then lay sprawled, unconscious, not moving an inch.

His left eye was red and swollen already.

Hmm, at this rate it’d puff up thick, and that bruise would last at least a month.

Ah, finally, that felt satisfying.

“Toss him outside the city gates and scatter salt on him. He’s banned for life.”

“Ah... I was going to do that myself.”

Grumbling, Katrina hoisted Zahir over her shoulder and headed toward the gate.

Why was she doing it herself instead of ordering the soldiers? Planning to rough him up on the way?

“D-did you see that just now?”

“Even for a Swordmaster, to drop Zahir of a Hundred Victories in a single blow....”

“That’s not the point. He used the sword hilt. That was a show of force, meaning he could’ve just taken his head off instead....”

The warriors whispered in shock.

But for me, it was only natural.

Strongest Expert or not, no one could block a sudden, unprepared strike.

That was the Stage of Sword Support.

“Let’s head back. We need to meet.”

In any case, now I was sure of it.

The Storm King’s aim wasn’t only Kashu City.

He was after Kushan City as well.

One way or another—

I needed to hurry the plan.

*         *         *

The military tent of Haarun, the Storm King.

In the middle of the firelit camp, soldiers keeping strict watch all around, loud laughter burst forth.

“Puhaha! Zahir, so you were thrown out like that? With your eye all swollen black?”

“...Please don’t laugh.”

Haarun, the Storm King, clutched his belly, laughing, while Zahir hid his bruised eye in embarrassment.

“Still, that’s something. What, you couldn’t even dodge?”

“Dodge? I don’t even remember. We were talking—and when I opened my eyes, I was outside the gates. And to top it off, someone had scribbled on my face.... Hoo....”

“Wow. That Ransen kid—impressive, huh? Honestly, I thought you could kill a half-baked Swordmaster without breaking a sweat.”

“...He seems far beyond that level.”

“Looks that way. Hya~ And he’s got quite the temper, doesn’t he?”

“Yes. Even after hearing the offer, he showed no hesitation whatsoever.”

“A wild one. A beast. Right, there are always those types. No matter how much sincerity I show, they refuse to open their hearts.”

Haarun muttered as he sipped the wine set beside him.

“Such people only open their hearts after they’ve heard the sound of hooves.”

Da-gadak, da-gadak!

Right then, the sound of cavalry hooves filtered in through the tent walls.

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