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Translator: CinderTL
Leonard's gaze, undeterred by the cold blade pressed against his neck, locked firmly onto Roland's eyes, striving to convey his complete sincerity.
"Allow me to return to the royal capital. Let me stand before Prince Lucius himself and report everything that has transpired here—Duke Arno's blasphemous creations, his merciless slaughter of our own men—every detail, without omission."
As he spoke, a cold flame ignited in his eyes.
"And I swear to you, on the honor of my family and the dignity of a knight, that as long as a breath remains in my body, I will devote every fiber of my being to making Duke Arno pay for his betrayal and madness. This is not merely for you, but for vengeance for every Golden Valley Kingdom soldier who has needlessly sacrificed their lives today!"
To lend weight to his words and to secure a sliver of hope for survival, Leonard painstakingly moved his other hand, cautiously reaching into his tunic.
Under Roland's watchful gaze, he slowly withdrew an ancient parchment scroll bound with dark leather cords.
The scroll's edges were worn, clearly from frequent handling. Its surface bore no writing, yet it emanated an aura of profound weight.
"As a token of sincerity... and as the price for our lives and freedom," Leonard held the scroll in his palm, offering it to Roland.
"This is an art passed down through generations of my family, originating from the same source as the gauntlets I use. It doesn't record common battlefield techniques like swordsmanship or magic, but rather... a method of hand-to-hand combat that pushes the human body's potential to its absolute limit."
"May it... prove useful to you."
Roland's gaze slowly swept across Leonard's pale, anxious face and the scattered, dying Golden Valley Soldiers around them.
Under the power of the Zone of Truth, he could be certain that every word Leonard spoke and every emotion he displayed was genuine.
The burning anxiety, the remorse, and the near-desperate loyalty burned as brightly and clearly as glowing embers.
"When you received the order to assassinate me," Roland began, his voice cutting through the air with icy calm, "what was going through your mind at that moment?"
Leonard's lips trembled as he struggled to speak the truth under the magical compulsion.
"I... I felt... doubt. The order came so suddenly, and the target... was a close ally. It made no sense..."
"Yet you still came," Roland stated, his gaze piercing, capturing every trace of Leonard's inner conflict.
"I am a knight of the Golden Valley Kingdom! When the king commands..." Leonard instinctively roared, but his defiance crumbled under Roland's unwavering stare.
Roland nodded slightly.
"You weren't entirely unaware, Leonard. You simply chose to suppress your doubts with blind obedience."
His voice carried an icy, piercing quality.
"Loyalty has clouded your judgment. You sensed something was wrong, yet you still led your soldiers to this grim end."
His gaze swept over the dying soldiers.
"And the price... their lives."
"This isn't loyalty, Leonard. It's blind devotion."
Leonard trembled violently, as if struck by lightning.
Blind devotion.
The phrase fell upon him like a final judgment, crushing him under its weight.
After a brief silence, Roland lowered his Mithril Longsword slightly. His voice, deep and clear, carried each word like an ice pick piercing Leonard's consciousness.
"Think carefully, Leonard. If Duke Arno dared to orchestrate this scheme, openly slaughtering soldiers of the Golden Valley Kingdom, why would he allow a knight who knows part of the truth and harbors resentment to return safely to the royal capital and stand before Prince Lucius?"
He leaned forward slightly. Though the Mithril Longsword hung low, the invisible pressure intensified sharply.
"Your survival poses the greatest threat to him. Do you truly believe the road to the capital will remain unobstructed? What awaits you won't be a welcoming procession, but cold arrows, traps, and silent garrotes. He'll ensure you meet an 'accidental' end along the way."
The urgency and hope on Leonard's face gradually froze, replaced by a deathly pallor.
He wasn't foolish. Roland's words struck him like an icy key, instantly unlocking the deepest fears within his heart—the possibility he dared not confront.
Yet after a brief moment of wavering, a near-fanatical resolve rekindled in his eyes.
He drew a deep breath, straightening his spine despite the blood still seeping from the wound on his neck.
"You're right, Lord Roland," he said, his voice hoarse but remarkably clear. "This is likely a dead end."
His gaze swept over his dying subordinates, pain searing his heart, but it failed to break his will.
"But I am a knight. My oath is not merely to the Crown Prince's loyalty, but to the defense of the kingdom's order. If I abandon my duty out of fear of death, allowing such crimes to remain hidden, my honor—the very meaning of my existence—would be more tragic than death itself."
He raised his eyes, meeting Roland's gaze without flinching, his expression radiating a resolute acceptance of death.
"I must return. Even if there's only a one-in-ten-thousand chance, I must try to bring the truth back to the royal capital. If... if Duke Arno's blade is destined to cut off my path..."
He paused, his voice heavy as iron.
"Then let my blood become another piece of evidence to nail his crimes."
Roland raised his eyes, his gaze fixed on the blood-stained face of the knight before him. After a moment, he accepted the inherited scroll and spoke softly.
"Remember your oath, Leonard. Take your men and vanish from my sight immediately."
He chose to spare them not because of their ancestral techniques, nor out of hollow mercy. The more practical reason was that killing them would serve no purpose in this chaotic situation, shrouded in mist.
However, if Leonard managed to return safely to the royal capital, a high knight harboring resentment and privy to certain truths would be like a thorn planted between Duke Arno and Prince Lucius. Perhaps this could disrupt the enemy's plans and buy them more time to retreat.
Having made his decision, Roland said no more. He swiftly turned and gathered Theresa, Galvis, and all the surviving River Domain Students. They quickly cleared the battlefield, collected essential supplies, and then set off without hesitation toward the River Domain Nations.
Their figures rapidly faded into the twilight of the wasteland, mingling with the lingering smoke and dust like the final shadows merging into the vastness.
Only when Roland and his group had completely vanished over the horizon did Leonard struggle to his feet, supporting himself with the broken hilt of his sword.
Enduring the excruciating pain, Leonard summoned the surviving soldiers who were still able to move with a hoarse voice.
Supporting each other, they began to move slowly and laboriously toward Golden Grain City, the royal capital, their minds still reeling from their near-death experience and filled with dread for the future.
However, they had barely traveled a short distance when the distinct and urgent sound of approaching hooves, like the thunderous beat of war drums, echoed from ahead, rapidly growing louder.
Leonard's heart clenched, Roland's warning instantly flashing through his mind.
With great effort, he raised a hand to signal the remnants of his forces to halt, his other hand already tightening around his last remaining punch dagger.
A party emerged at the end of the road, closing in swiftly.
The banners and armor unmistakably identified them as soldiers of the Golden Valley Kingdom.
But when Leonard recognized Earl Ervin leading the group, alarm bells rang in his mind.
The sudden appearance of this royal relative, renowned for his unwavering loyalty to the Royal Family, seemed far too convenient.
"Earl Ervin," Leonard's voice was weak from his injuries, yet carried an unmistakable edge of suspicion. He kept his weapon raised, his gaze sharp as he scrutinized the approaching figure. "Why are you here?"
Earl Ervin reined in his warhorse, his face still bearing his customary expression of concern.
"Knight Leonard! It's a relief to see you survived. We received reports of trouble in this area and came to provide assistance. What happened here?"
Leonard remained wary despite Erwin's seemingly reasonable explanation.
He fixed his gaze on Erwin's eyes, noticing the massive, imposing figure standing behind him.
This was no ordinary soldier, but a transcendent.
Roland's warning echoed in his mind.
"Lord Earl," Leonard's voice turned cold and hard. "If you truly came to rescue us, escort us back to the royal capital immediately. I have urgent military intelligence that must be reported to His Royal Highness the Crown Prince in person."
The warmth gradually faded from Erwin's face.
He keenly sensed Leonard's unusual vigilance, a state far from what one would expect from a survivor.
After a brief silence, a cold smile twisted his lips.
"So, you're not a hopeless fool after all."
Erwin's voice shed its pretense, revealing only naked indifference.
"Then let's not waste each other's time."
He didn't even draw his sword, merely waving his hand slightly behind him.
"Eliminate them. Leave no survivors."
The transcendent behind him moved instantly.
A wave of profound sorrow flashed through Leonard's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a desperate resolve.
He roared, "For the Golden Valley Kingdom! Fight to your last breath!"
His cry served both as an encouragement to the remaining soldiers and as a farewell to his knightly career.
Though gravely wounded, he charged at the enemy like a cornered beast.
The punch blade flashed its final arc in the sunlight, barely deflecting the first wave of magical attacks.
He fought with reckless abandon, each movement fueled by his fury at the betrayers and his unwavering loyalty to the kingdom.
Yet the disparity in strength and the wounds ravaging his body proved insurmountable.
A transcendent materialized at his flank, a blade of condensed shadow silently piercing his side.
Leonard felt an icy chill stab through his back, followed by the draining sensation of life rapidly seeping away.
He staggered, bracing himself with the punch blade, refusing to fall.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but he kept his head raised, his gaze locked on Earl Ervin, who sat regally astride his warhorse.
His eyes held no plea, only boundless rage and contempt, and a profound sorrow born of betrayed faith.
"King... dom..."
He forced out his final words, the light in his eyes finally extinguished. Yet his body remained stubbornly upright, refusing to collapse completely.
Earl Ervin cast a cold glance at Leonard's still-standing corpse, a mocking smirk curling his lips.
"Fools blinded by blind loyalty," he sneered, waving his hand dismissively to signal his men to clear the battlefield. His voice suddenly rose, filled with grief and fury.
"Everyone has witnessed it! The barbarians of the River Domain Nations have not only brutally murdered Earl Auston but now conspired to assassinate the loyal Knight Leonard! They slaughter our countrymen with vile schemes and trample upon the honor of the Golden Valley Kingdom!"
He slammed his fist down, issuing the order.
"Spread this news across the land immediately! In the name of Prince Lucius, issue the highest-level wanted posters! Hunt down these arrogant murderers and make them pay for their crimes with blood!"
Roland remained completely unaware of Leonard's tragic fate behind him.
He led the survivors onward at a relentless pace, allowing no rest.
To evade pursuit, he meticulously concealed their trail, using withered branches and fallen leaves to cover their footprints. He even cleverly diverted a stream to wash away their scent, erasing every trace of their passage.
As the pitch-black night descended, they finally discovered a hidden cave deep within the dense jungle, concealed by thick vines and scattered boulders.
The cave's entrance was narrow, but the interior proved surprisingly dry and spacious, enough to temporarily shelter the remaining dozen or so survivors.
Roland quickly instructed Theresa and Galvis to settle the exhausted and mostly wounded students, distribute the limited water and rations, and assign the two least injured individuals to take turns standing guard inside the cave entrance.
He himself meticulously inspected the cave's surroundings once more, scaling a nearby massive boulder. His sharp gaze, like that of a hawk, swept across the dense forest they had traversed and the wilderness gradually being swallowed by darkness.
The night wind howled, carrying only the occasional cries of unknown wild beasts—no other unusual sounds disturbed the silence.
Confirming there were no immediate signs of pursuit, Roland's taut nerves finally eased slightly as he returned to the cave's depths.
The flickering campfire cast dancing shadows on the cave walls, illuminating the students' still-shaken and utterly weary faces.
Roland leaned against a relatively dry stone wall, finally catching his breath.
Only then did he retrieve the ancient parchment scroll bound with dark leather from his tunic.
The scroll felt icy to the touch, its surface exuding a weighty texture that spoke of centuries of accumulated age.
He untied the leather cord and slowly unfurled the scroll across his knees.
The flickering campfire illuminated the slightly yellowed parchment, revealing that it was not entirely covered in text. Instead, it was filled with intricate and detailed diagrams of human figures in various poses, surrounded by dense annotations.
He focused intently, his gaze skimming over passages detailing methods of channeling power, joint techniques, and how to deliver lethal strikes in extremely confined spaces.
As he had suspected, this was indeed a refined and brutal martial art.
However, as he read further, his brow gradually furrowed.
The scroll contained far more profound knowledge than he had anticipated.
A significant portion of the text was interspersed with...
...a remarkably peculiar body tempering technique.
(End of the Chapter)
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