The soldier walked up quickly and bowed to report to Ser Kyle:
"Ser Kyle, Knight Don Quixote has arrived and is here for the test."
Ser Kyle looked up, his gaze falling on Don Quixote.
Scanning from his brand-new mail to the sword hilt at his side, he raised an eyebrow slightly:
"Another one looking for a free meal. Dressed pretty sharply, though."
The disdain in his words was undisguised.
The knights standing around him also chuckled lightly.
They were about to watch another show.
In recent days, nearly twenty freelance knights had come for the test, but few had any real skill; they were mostly incompetent show-offs.
Let alone catching Ser Kyle's eye, even they looked down on them.
Don Quixote's expression remained unchanged. He bowed slightly and said steadily:
"Ser Kyle, I am here to serve the Earl, not to idle my days away."
"Talking tough is useless."
Ser Kyle didn't get up. He casually kicked the dirt at his feet and shouted to one side:
"Brennan, go exchange a few moves with him!"
"Yes, Ser Kyle."
A burly knight responded and walked out, the muscles on his arms bulging, stretching his old mail tight.
Having just eliminated two freelance knights, Brennan couldn't help but look a bit smug.
He walked up to Don Quixote, grinned to reveal a mouthful of yellow teeth, and said arrogantly:
"Kid, be smart and just admit defeat. Saves you from looking ugly when you're face-down in the mud later."
Don Quixote simply rested his hand on his sword hilt and uttered one word lightly:
"Please."
"Hmph, you don't know what's good for you!" Brennan was a bit annoyed.
Soon, the two stood in the center of the temporary training ground, their feet deep in muddy, filthy slush.
Everyone's eyes were on them.
Brennan gave a low grunt.
Then he lunged forward, his heavy sword cleaving down with full force almost simultaneously.
Whoosh!
The heavy, powerful strike carried a faint whistling sound as it cut through the air.
Brennan intended to show off properly in front of Ser Kyle.
So.
He wanted to take Don Quixote down in one strike!
Seeing this blow, many freelance knights watching the excitement subconsciously shrank their necks.
They might not be able to withstand the force of that strike.
...Speed is average, and the attack is very straightforward.
The thought flashed through Don Quixote's mind as he moved quickly, agilely dodging the brunt of the heavy sword.
The heavy sword struck the mud, instantly splashing up a spray of filth and sinking slightly into the ground.
...It's over.
Taking advantage of the moment Brennan was recovering his sword, Don Quixote shifted his steps, moving with incredible speed to Brennan's side.
He didn't draw his sword, but instead delivered a fierce kick to Brennan's waist.
Brennan grunted in pain.
The pain in his waist and abdomen caused his body to stagger violently, nearly falling over.
"Bastard!"
He roared angrily and was about to turn around to counterattack.
But a metal sword point was already pressed against his throat.
The cold touch against his skin made him freeze instantly, daring not even to breathe heavily.
The entire training ground fell silent in an instant.
The knights who had been chuckling stopped smiling, their eyes full of surprise.
The disdain in Ser Kyle's eyes faded, replaced by a look of appraisal:
"Good skills. Not just for show. Reaction speed is fast enough."
Don Quixote sheathed his sword and nodded slightly to Brennan:
"Good match."
Brennan's face flushed red. He lowered his head and retreated to the side in embarrassment, not daring to look up.
Ser Kyle scanned the crowd again and shouted in a deep voice:
"Jericho, you're up!"
"Yes, Ser Kyle!"
Jericho's build was completely different from Brennan's.
Medium build, lean and wiry like a leopard.
Although his dark iron mail wasn't brand new, it was polished to a shine, and the gaps between the links were much cleaner than those of the other knights.
He held not a heavy sword, but a rapier with a long, slender blade.
Jericho walked to the center of the training ground. Unlike Brennan's arrogance, his face was focused and wary as he looked at Don Quixote:
"Jericho, a cavalry captain of House Cerwyn!"
Don Quixote nodded:
"Don Quixote, a freelance knight!"
Silence fell over the surroundings again.
Many of the Cerwyn soldiers straightened up.
Don Quixote's clean disposal of Brennan was unexpected, forcing them to put away their contempt.
Ser Kyle also watched seriously.
---
The two stared at each other for a moment.
A moment later, Jericho finally moved.
He crouched low and sprang out like a leopard, his footsteps making no sound in the mud.
The rapier thrust straight and true, aiming directly for Don Quixote's throat.
This attack was harder to defend against than Brennan's heavy sword.
The rapier was thin and fast; a moment's inattention could lead to a vital hit.
Someone nearby drew a sharp breath.
But Don Quixote moved even faster.
Instead of retreating, he advanced. With a shift of his feet, his body drifted half a foot to the left like willow catkins, evading the rapier's point.
The blade scraped past his mail, making a light metallic sound.
At the same time, with a flick of his right wrist, his longsword parried the follow-up thrust.
Clang!
A crisp sound rang out, and Jericho felt his wrist go numb.
"Such strength!"
Startled, he instinctively tried to retract his sword to defend.
Don Quixote gave him no chance.
Moving again, he circled to Jericho's side, the cold flat of his blade resting gently against the side of Jericho's neck.
The pressure wasn't heavy, but it gave Jericho a sense of imminent death.
Jericho froze instantly, his hand retracting the sword stopping in mid-air.
He turned his head to look at Don Quixote's profile, his eyes full of disbelief.
He prided himself on his rapier speed and reaction time being top-tier among the Cerwyn soldiers.
Yet he hadn't even lasted three moves before being easily subdued.
Not just Jericho, but everyone else witnessing this scene found it hard to believe.
Don Quixote relaxed his wrist slightly, removing the blade from Jericho's neck. He sheathed his sword with a clean, decisive motion, the blade making only a soft click as it slid home, his demeanor as steady as ever:
"Good match."
Jericho slowly turned around, looked at the freelance knight before him, and said solemnly:
"Knight Don Quixote, may I ask for another lesson when there's a chance?"
Don Quixote smiled:
"Certainly."
The area around the training ground was briefly silent.
But soon, sounds of amazement rose from the freelance knights.
The faces of the Cerwyn soldiers were full of astonishment; they had thought Captain Jericho would surely dampen this freelance knight's spirit.
As various thoughts arose, the way everyone looked at Don Quixote now contained a genuine measure of recognition.
Unknowingly, Ser Kyle had stood up, the scrutiny in his eyes turning into approval:
"Good! Quick eyes and quick hands! Your fundamentals in swordsmanship are solid!"
Saying this, Ser Kyle walked slowly to the center of the training ground, his gaze fixed on Don Quixote:
"You pass the test! From today on, you are a hired knight under the Earl's command."
Don Quixote bowed:
"Yes, Ser Kyle."
Hearing this.
The freelance knights who had failed the test looked at Don Quixote with faces full of envy.
And the few freelance knights who had passed also watched Don Quixote with grave expressions.
Although they had passed, their performance was not as good as Don Quixote's.
Pausing, Ser Kyle continued to look at Don Quixote, his gaze sharp:
"Kid, interested in sparring with me?"
...