Chapter 42

Chapter 42

TL/Editor: Raei

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Schedule: 5/week

Illustrations: None.

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Knight Serg was a f*cking thug.

He was extraordinary from birth.

Born a super heavyweight at 4.8kg, he quickly grew into a behemoth by shoving everything that moved into his mouth.

If there's such a thing as being born with a silver spoon in terms of gaining weight just by drinking water, Serg was definitely born with that spoon in his mouth.

A human pig that gets fat just by drinking water.

The Human Ham, Serg, was just fat and huge.

From his childhood, Serg lacked patience.

When hungry, he ate; when sleepy, he slept.

And if he wanted something, he had to have it.

"Lady! Serg stole our kid's bread again!"

For heavyweight brat, Serg, there was nothing in the neighborhood he couldn't take.

Snatching snacks from peers was like putting a baby into submission.

Twisting the wrists of little kids.

Facing complaints from neighborhood mothers, Serg's parents, instead of scolding him sternly just brushed it off because they were too annoyed to deal with it properly.

"So what? Your kid is weak and lost his stuff, why blame our Serg?"

"What?"

Like a true mother of a thug, Sergs mother already demonstrated the law of the jungle to him.

She would have been greatly successful if born in a demonic sect rather than in a medieval fantasy.

Serg was deeply moved by his mothers principle of the survival of the fittest, which he later used efficiently to beat her up.

"Oh dear! Serg! If you take all the bread, what will we do?"

"The strong possess everything... Didnt you teach me that, mother?"

"What kind of bullsh*t is that!"

Big, burly, and fat, Serg showcased tremendous martial talent from a young age.

Though it sounds grand, martial talent here isnt some divine gift as depicted in fantasies or martial arts stories.nove(l)bi(n.)com

Its just... if you're physically monstrous, thats martial talent.

If a 100kg super behemoth pushes with his weight class, how can anyone withstand that?

Things might slightly change in the realm of professional fighting.

And it changes again when you wield swords and spears.

But even armed and armored, innate strength doesnt diminish.

By 15, Serg had grown into a man who could beat up all the adults in the neighborhood.

Thus, following the logic of survival of the fittest, he carved out his own destiny.

I will become a knight.

He started as a mercenary.

He wielded weapons and killed people.

Enemy blades couldnt pierce Sergs thick belly fat.

Spears and hammers were the same.

Naturally, he became a famous mercenary.

And at some point, Serg began calling himself a knight, and no one opposed him.

Impatient, reveling in blood and plunder, indulging in gluttony and drunkenness, a madman...

To anyone's eyes, he was the perfect knight!

"Wow! Look at that stature! How strong must one be to have such a bulky body!"

Serg was arrogant.

In most situations, he didn't know defeat, and on the rare occasions he did experience defeat, he disregarded those experiences.

Like now.

'We almost won... What a waste.'

Serg clicked his tongue.

Victory was within reach but it was all ruined because of some weird Black Knight.

Though it might be of little consolation, Serg was the last bastion of the Count's forces.

Regardless of his personality, he truly was a knight skilled in combat.

As Serg retreated, the front line collapsed uncontrollably.

Numerous soldiers died because of Serg's retreat... but that was irrelevant to him.

Because to Serg, the lives of soldiers were so trivial they couldn't be counted as 'life' by his standards!

Nobles, priests, wizards, knights... they were human.

Commoners? Farmers? Soldiers?

Experience points.

Money bags.

Farming mobs that spit out money and EXP when hit.

By the way, EXP stands for Execution Points.

Accumulating EXP means becoming a heartless monster who can unlock the massacre route.

So, despite the deaths of many soldiers, Serg didn't care at all.

He was only thinking about how to save the Count and escape.

'As long as we have the Count, we can start over.'

In Serg's eyes, the Count, Lucy, everyone was just a money shuttle, a soldier shuttle.

"Over here!"

"This way! The Count is over here!"

Though they tried hard to escape, the Count's party was eventually caught by the pursuing troops.

Well.

So, naturally, the Count had to live.

However... if crossbows appeared, it was a different story.

Those were clearly not 'capture' equipment.

They were meant for killing.

Wooden bolts wouldn't recognize the nobility of one's status and spare the Count!

"Ooooooh!"

The best-case scenario would have been for Serg to come to his senses and protect the Count.

However, Serg, who was already irrational, had suffered injuries and was half out of his mind, making it impossible for him to make a rational decision.

Driven mad by pain, Serg charged at the enemies.

And at that very moment, as the Count cursed and tried to get out of the crossbow's line of fire.

Ping!

A soldier's crossbow fired.

Serg ducked to dodge the bolt.

The arrow, having lost its intended target...

Embedded itself deeply in the Count's neck.

"!"

"!"

"!"

"Uncle!"

Lucy screamed.

As if time had stopped, everyone was in shock.

"Wh... what?"

"Damn it!"

The Count's escort became flustered and fled.

Serg, already berserk, was busy slaughtering the soldiers.

Only Lucy ran towards the fallen Count.

The soldiers, fighting off a monster in human skin, had no time to check on the Count's condition.

"Uncle... Uncle!"

Lucy was soon crying hot tears.

No matter how many times she spoke to the Count, he could only gurgle, unable to say anything.

He couldn't even leave a last will.

"Uncle"

Lucy felt a deep sorrow looking at the fallen Count.

The Count, who had led his army with the sole intention of helping her...

To think he would die like this.

"I'm sorry..."

Lucy sobbed.

The Count's death felt like her fault.

If she hadn't asked for help, the Count wouldn't have had to die...

Meanwhile, the battle between the pursuers and Serg continued.

Thud!

The one who fell was Serg.

It was inevitable.

It was remarkable he could move at all after being hit by so many bolts.

The soldiers who had barely subdued Serg discovered the Count was already dead and sighed.

"This is bad!"

Things had gone terribly wrong.

The Count was supposed to be captured alive, but it was too late for regrets.

It was unavoidable.

If they hadn't shot the crossbows, they would have been the ones to die.

The pursuers moved to secure Lucy as well.

But then...

"[Darkness!]"

Lucy's eyes snapped open.

This voice. And this unknown language...!

"Ian!"

It was the wizard Ian.

The already dim forest became engulfed in darkness summoned by Ian, making it impossible to see anything.

The sound of hooves echoed.

And someone lifted Lucy onto a horse.

In that moment...

Though his face was not visible.

The touch of the hands holding her made Lucy's heart race like crazy.

It was a strange sensation she had never felt before.

"Lucy! What about the Count!"

"...He's gone!"

"I really f*cking hate this! sh*t!"

The horse quickly emerged from the darkness.

Only then could Lucy see the face of Ian, who was holding her and steering the horse forward.

"We've got a Black Knight on our tail right now!"

"A Black Knight?"

"Yes! We need to shake him off, so let's head to the river!"