Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Chapter 41

“Lord Dale is truly extraordinary!“

“His capabilities are formidable!“

“The legends told about him do not do him justice!“

While the aristocrats showered Dale with praise, anticipating his victory, he felt profound disbelief inside.

“Was it really that simple?“

Despite projecting an aura of absolute serenity, Dale was perplexed internally by such a sudden triumph.

His opponent, a young man who had barely passed two decades of life, was a warrior who gave his all in combat using aura. However, as their swords crossed, Dale felt as if time had slowed down for everyone else, while he alone maintained a normal speed.

And the surprises did not end there.

“The weapon from the Shadow Cloak responds as if it were another limb of my own body.“

It felt as though ethereal and imperceptible limbs were sprouting from his anatomy to guide the blade of darkness. In that instant, he understood the nature of those “appendages linked to his heart,” which represented the core of the forbidden magic text incorporated into his being.

The essence of the dark arts, the “Book of the Black Goat,” was a mystical weapon designed to enhance a sorcerer’s faculties. Under that premise, it established itself as one of the most fearsome dark blades in the world.

Each time Dale activated his circle to channel dark energy, the manuscript housed in his chest operated as a supplementary “Source of Darkness,” increasing his power significantly.

Utilizing this concentrated dark energy, he strengthened his physique and extracted maximum performance from the mystical object, the Shadow Cloak. The change was not a simple gradual improvement; with the vigor he possessed at that moment, he was capable of facing any Aura Knight head-on.

“Is this all you can show?“

Maintaining his air of superiority, Dale locked his gaze on Sir Yones, acting as if the outcome had been foreseen from the very first moment.

In his position as the eldest son of the Saxon Duke and bearer of the title “Black Prince,” he stood up to those who dared to question and test the reputation of his lineage.

“Shadow Bullet.“

Clicking his fingers lightly, the dark blades swirling around Dale shattered into pieces. These remnants transformed into projectiles, unleashing a shower of relentless hostility.

The entire attack was directed straight at Sir Yones, who remained on his knees in front of him.

The impact of the “Shadow Bullet” technique rushed forward with the speed and consistency of a piece of heavy artillery.

“…!“

A muffled cry was heard in the room, but the projectiles of darkness only destroyed the marble surface surrounding Sir Yones.

Dale took a few steps back, moving away from the shattered fragments of the Saxon Ducal Castle floor, conveying a message of warning without the need for words. Sir Yones’s composure completely vanished, and his lower limbs would not stop trembling.

It became evident to those present that the swordsmanship previously displayed by the “Black Prince” had been nothing more than a visual deception.

Upon manifesting his true potential as a practitioner of the dark arts, the shadow blade took a back seat.

An indescribable feeling, which surpassed simple shock or astonishment, took hold of the entire hall.

“……“

A display of absolute submission.

Exactly the way his progenitor had instructed him in the past.

“Is there any other individual who intends to measure themselves against me?“

No one in the room dared to make a sound.

“Is there anyone left with the audacity to doubt my lineage and try to validate their worth?“

Dale asked once more, obtaining only silence in response.

Thump!

The impact of the metal leg armor colliding with the floor echoed against the walls. The nobles and warriors, wearing their respective armor, prostrated themselves before the young successor of the Saxon lineage, offering him a pledge of eternal loyalty.

His progenitor’s teachings came to his mind at that moment.

Fear is the firmest foundation for submission.

Without a doubt, that premise was true.

At nightfall.

Following the conclusion of the meeting and the protocol of the nobility, a celebration was organized to commemorate the success achieved.

While the aristocrats socialized and interacted in their respective circles, the troops in the external facilities celebrated by sharing rations and liquor.

On the contrary, Sir Yones, after suffering defeat at the hands of Dale, withdrew from the ducal fortress in complete solitude to take refuge in the area where his paid combatants were stationed.

He could not stop picturing the reprimands of his father and brother regarding his rash decisions.

“Leader, you don’t look so good.“

“……“

Ignoring his subordinate’s words, Yones took a long drink from his glass.

“What a disgrace, this world is complete filth.“

Only when the effect of the liquor began to manifest did his thoughts turn into explicit words.

“No matter how hard I strive training with steel, I am unable to compete in the slightest with that damn guy. Do you really think I could be okay?“

“Leader…?“

“And the worst part is that he isn’t even a swordsman, he’s a damn sorcerer! What irony!“

The troop member asked cautiously, “What exactly do you mean?“

“I’m telling you that a kid barely 11 years old has completely humiliated me, you idiot!“

“Are you referring to the successor of the Saxon lineage?“

“The very same.“

“Well, it is said that he possesses prodigious and unprecedented talent in this era, possessing the greatest faculties in the entire Empire…“

Clearly, the rumors were true.

“An individual’s social position is not decreed by their lineage of origin, but rather it is feasible to modify it through one’s own effort.“

Who would have the gall to utter such a fallacy in front of the successor of the Saxon house? It was not merely a painful defeat. What was truly suffocating him was the hopelessness of encountering an impassable barrier that completely hindered his future.

The living proof of the injustices implicit in existence.

The obstacle that the “Black Prince” represented was completely unreachable.

“How profitable is this drink, damn it!“

Thus, Yones continued to consume alcohol while raising his voice.

“There is no doubt! What alternative is better than excellent liquor?“

“Let’s join you in the drink, leader!“

Saturated with the false appearances of the fortress, Yones found refuge in the informal environment of his men.

“Bringing that memory to mind generates huge frustration.“

He took another drink from his glass before continuing.

“It would have been incredible for you to witness the high-society women endlessly fawning over that eleven-year-old child.“

“How were they behaving?“

“Please, their attitudes were no different from the women who offer services in the slums of a low-life!“

Desperately seeking to obtain the favor of that kid!

“He must certainly be having fun with some lady at this very moment!“

“Or maybe with a group of them!“

“Possessing the rights of succession to a ducal house definitely grants great privileges!“

“Listen, do you consider that an 11-year-old child already has hair in his private areas?“

“It’s quite likely.“

“You think?“

Yones nodded with a distant look, not noticing the sudden silence that had taken over the environment.

“What’s wrong? Why did you guys suddenly go quiet?“

“Leader…“

One of the combatants stammered, losing the color in his face.

“Is there a possibility that the minor who just walked in is the same individual you were talking about…?“

The hired combatants did not have the ability to identify “Dale of Saxon” visually.

However, upon observing the high-quality clothing bearing the Saxon raven insignia combined with the dark upper garment on an 11-year-old minor, deducing who it was, was a very simple task.

“What are you saying? Would that kid dare to show up here?“

Yones, with his senses clouded by alcohol, turned to look.

“Indeed.“

And the aforementioned “kid” issued his reply.

“…… Meso.“

The “Shadow Cloak” swayed slightly, appearing to be a simple dark-toned upper garment.

A deathly silence settled in the space immediately.

“……“

“……“

An extremely uncomfortable tension that only dissipated when Dale sat next to Yones.

“… Help yourself to some.“

He offered him the high-quality liquor he had taken from the fortress’s quarters.

“Don’t you consider existence to be a true misfortune?“

“N-No, not at all.“

Yones took the container showing an evident tremor in his hands.

“That is the harsh reality of our environment.“

Dale continued his speech using a tone that simulated that of someone advising a subject significantly younger in age.

“Full of inequalities, meaningless, and completely alien to our individual determinations.“

He expressed it peacefully, as if he were analyzing a problem external to his own reality.

“Innate abilities, the context of upbringing, blood ties, family prestige…“

Dale inquired.

“Of the totality of the components that delimit the course of our lives, is there even one that is ours to choose?“

“N-There is not.“

Yones shook his head in denial.

“Do you maintain the conviction that you possess the ability to mold your own future?“

“……“

Dale insisted on the premise. Yones was about to nod, just as he would have done firmly before crossing paths with the “Black Prince” that same day.

“Therefore, avoid punishing yourself that way.“

“……“

“In this reality, there is not a single future that we have the faculty to alter.“

Upon perceiving such statements coming precisely from the individual who represented the maximum expression of that premise, Yones could not help but laugh ironically.

And after that manifestation of irony, tears did not take long to well up in his eyes.

At first, he supposed that it had all been a simple nightmare. Or perhaps that the excesses of alcohol had caused him a series of hallucinations.

“Lord Dale requires your presence.“

That perception changed completely at the break of day, the moment the Saxon Raven warriors came to his quarters to escort him.

In one of the rooms of the Saxon Ducal Fortress.

“Do you retain memories of the events of last night?“

“Lord Dale…“

The formality in Dale’s words caused a lump in Yones’s throat.

“Did everything really happen, or was it a product of my imagination?“

“Your state of drunkenness was such that you expressed your desire to enlist under my command, treating me as if I were your older brother.“

“… It is impossible.“

“We held an extremely profound exchange of words that lasted until the early hours of dawn.“

Only when Dale proceeded to recount the details of what had happened with great accuracy did he finally accept that the experiences of the early morning were not limited to a fantasy of his mind.

“Sir Yones, the youngest son of Baron Kennet.“

The confrontation, the subsequent defeat, and the disorders that occurred at sunrise.

Everything took on the appearance of an ephemeral experience, as if it were the last experience he would live in this world.

Very soon, his head would roll before the blades of the Night Raven Knights.

At the precise moment that Sir Yones was mentally preparing to accept his execution, Dale stated something that left him completely off-balance.

“I find your way of being pleasant.“

“What do you mean?“

“I like both your person and the group of warriors you command.“

Sir Yones could barely process the words that continued to come out of the minor’s mouth.

“Would you be willing to lend your combat services under my insignia, serving the House of Saxon?“

“What… what implications does that proposal have…?“

“Prior to the execution of the next military campaign, my elite warriors will be in charge of providing training to both you and your subordinates.“

Dale’s personal combatants, the prestigious Night Raven Knights of the Saxon House, would commit to instructing them directly!

“Covering everything from the elementary concepts in sword handling to the most complex applications linked to aura methodologies.“

He held the certainty that there were no longer growth alternatives for someone in his position, finding himself forced to seek daily sustenance depending solely on his skill with steel.

“Instead of wearing yourself out thinking about events that will happen in a distant time, your current priority should be to focus on getting out alive from the upcoming armed confrontation.“

And in a highly contradictory way, the same individual who had shown Sir Yones the profound inequity that governs the world was now transforming into the only being willing to grant him an opportunity that the rest of society systematically denied him.

“What is the reason… why would you make this determination for my benefit?“

Inquired Sir Yones, manifesting a marked vibration in his tone of voice, completely setting aside the fact that his interlocutor was a child of only eleven years.

“It happens that I require the services of a particular individual…”

Replied Dale, showing absolute disinterest, downplaying the matter.

“And you happened to be in the geographical space by pure coincidence.”

As if, in reality, the reason lacked significant weight.

It is under such capricious dynamics that human existence is governed.