The Indomitable Martial King - Chapter 19

[ Chapter 19 ]

After dealing with the demons, Repenhardt led the group towards a safe zone.

There weren’t supposed to be any designated safe areas within the dungeon, yet there were certainly zones where the flow of dimensional currents twisted in such a way that monsters hesitated to approach. Repenhardt, who had already mastered all the systems of this place, Falton, easily found a nearby safe location.

Carrying the unconscious Todd and Sir Edward, with three orc slaves each transporting Stefan and the two surviving knights, they entered a chamber. After laying the injured down and lighting a fire to warm up, the knights began to awaken one by one.

“Ugh… Where are we?”

Sir Edward, being robust, was the first to rise and look around. Sillan quickly explained what had happened.

“Wow!”

Sir Edward exclaimed in admiration, looking at Repenhardt with new eyes. Wrapped in layers of clothing, Repenhardt had initially seemed merely well-built, but now, it was clear that his entire body was trained to the extreme, far from ordinary.

“I failed to recognize such a skilled warrior. May I ask your name?”

Repenhardt, who was resting and tearing into a piece of jerky, looked indifferently at the middle-aged knight.

“My name? Repen…”

He was about to reveal his name but then remembered he had already told Todd. It was bound to arouse suspicion. He slyly trailed off.

“… .”

Although he ended in a casual tone, it was so natural that Sir Edward did not catch any sense of discomfort. He tried to recall any fighters from the Vasily Kingdom with that name.

‘Repen…?’

He had never heard of a fighter named Repen. A true strongman’s name would be known, wouldn’t it?

Then, Stefan, regaining consciousness, groaned.

“Ugh…”

Sitting down, Stefan held his head. His skull still rang from the impact of flying and crashing into a stone wall. It was impossible for him not to be affected by such a forceful embrace with the wall, enough to shatter mithril alloy armor. The fact that he wasn’t gravely injured already proved how well-trained a knight he was.

“Lord Stefan!”

“Ah, Sir Edward. What has happened?”

After Edward helped him up and explained the situation, Stefan, with a grim expression, asked Repenhardt.

“May I inquire about your family name?”

“Family name? I don’t have such a thing.”

“… Were you a commoner?”

Stefan’s expression twisted even more at the realization that the man was not a noble warrior on a quest but merely a savage. The disgrace of a noble knight receiving aid from a savage was unthinkable.

Shame and confusion followed. It was inconceivable for a commoner with no noble lineage to properly receive the teachings of the great warriors. Yet, this man had single-handedly defeated demons that they themselves had struggled with?

‘It seems he merely finished off the demon that we had almost defeated.’

Stefan glanced at Sillan, assessing the situation. The young cleric boy couldn’t possibly have the discernment to truly understand and estimate martial prowess. To him, a clumsy punch or kick must have seemed like divine intervention, especially after being saved from the brink of death. The demons that appeared later must have been of lower rank.

In Stefan’s mind, the Tagrel had become just another demon that they had almost defeated. Satisfied with this conclusion, his expression softened.

“It seems you had some skill after all. Your assistance was appreciated.”

Though to Stefan it was an acknowledgment of gratitude, Repenhardt saw it differently.

Naturally, his response was curt.

“It seems you lacked even that bit of skill.”

“What?”

Stefan bristled at the response, despite offering thanks. He reached for his waist, then remembered. His sword had flown off during the earlier skirmish with the Tagrel.

Hesitating, Sir Edward intervened.

“Insolence! Show respect to the Altion Marquis house!”

Repenhardt, tearing into a piece of jerky, paid them no mind. The thought of them possibly attacking out of frustration crossed his mind, but he was unconcerned.

‘After all, this body can deflect swords.’

Yet, Sir Edward was not so unreasonable as to attack a benefactor. He was indeed a man of decent character.

Sir Edward turned to Stefan, trying to soothe him.

“How could a savage know proper manners? Please, be patient.”

The issue was that these “manners” were by the standards of knights.

“Regardless, did he not offer us assistance?”

Grunting, Stefan turned away. Reflecting on Sir Edward’s words, he realized they were true. After calming down, he decided to ‘forgive’ the savage in front of him.

“Ignorance is not a sin. Given your contribution, I will generously forgive your rudeness.”

“…… Do as you will.”

Stefan bristled again, but Repenhardt ignored him. Honestly, having seen his fair share of arrogant nobles in his previous life, Repenhardt was not particularly angered. And if he were to be honest with himself…

‘I was like that at his age, too.’

When a young talent is constantly praised, it’s inevitable that they become arrogant. Repenhardt himself had been insufferably proud until he matured. Who was he to judge?

‘He’ll grow out of it eventually.’

Or not. It wasn’t his problem. Why should he care? They’ll live their lives as they see fit.

Stefan, seemingly no longer interested in associating with Repenhardt, walked away towards where Relsia was. On the other hand, Sir Edward continued to show interest in this traveler. With his experience as a knight, he could tell that Repenhardt’s physique wasn’t just the result of mere labor.

“Without a family, then. Could you tell me who taught you?”

“I just picked things up here and there.”

Repenhardt deliberately hid Gerard’s name. Gerard’s reputation was too high, and attracting undue attention before regaining his magical powers was best avoided. Moreover…

‘I don’t want that man knowing my whereabouts!’

For all Repenhardt knew, his master could show up any moment, proclaiming, ‘My disciple! I’ve developed a new training method!’ Repenhardt’s aversion to Gerard had almost reached the level of paranoia, thanks to his rigorous training.

“Still, for just picking things up, that’s quite…”

“Ah, forget it. Why don’t you look after the injured? They need attention more than I do.”

Growing irritated, Repenhardt cut him off and gestured dismissively. The remaining knights were still unconscious, and Sillan was diligently casting healing spells, though they remained out.

“Well then, once again, on behalf of Altion, I thank you for your assistance.”

Without further conversation, Sir Edward placed his hand over his heart as a sign of respect and then stepped back, casting a suspicious glance at Repenhardt.

He had begun to notice that this young traveler was speaking informally to them, knights. Yet, he felt no urge to point it out.

‘It’s too natural.’

The arrogance in his tone was blatant once he opened his mouth. And it seemed he wasn’t even aware of his own haughtiness. Like Stefan, perhaps? It’s a habit formed naturally from commanding others from a higher position.

‘But can a young man really be this arrogant?’

Stefan showed respect to Sir Edward due to his age. But this young man, in his early twenties, spoke rudely even to Edward, who was over forty. To disregard age to such an extent, one had to be either utterly ill-mannered or…

‘Perhaps of royal blood from another country.’

Either way, engaging with him promised to be nothing but tiring. At least it was clear that this young man was strong enough to handle demons they themselves could not, making him an undesirable enemy at the moment. Unlike Stefan, Sir Edward had a good grasp of the situation.

‘But his manner of speaking isn’t so much arrogant as it is…’

Yes, it seemed familiar. It was the tone used when speaking to someone younger.

Sir Edward looked anew at Repenhardt, tearing into his jerky, with a sense of curiosity.

Thanks to Sillan’s diligent healing, the knights gradually regained consciousness, their eyes reddening as they remembered their fallen comrades.

“You’re safe! Thank the gods, Stefan!”

“Curse it! Sir Berto is dead!”

“These damned demons!”

Stefan comforted and encouraged his men.

“Do not grieve. They died as knights should. Ares will remember their bravery, and their souls will be saved. Furthermore, the valor of these knights will be commemorated by the Altion Marquis house. Though they are dead, a knight’s honor lives forever.”

The atmosphere grew solemn at their lord’s comforting words.

“Lord!”

“We understand. Sob, sob!”

The surviving knights gathered to pray to the god Ares and to console the souls of the dead. Todd, coming to his senses belatedly, sighed and immersed himself in meditation to replenish his magic. The chamber was filled with a somber mood.

“Umm…”

Sillan looked around uncertainly. With his healing spells expended, he found himself without a role. Had he been a cleric of Seiya or a priest of Ares, he might have led a service to honor the fallen knights. But as a cleric serving Philanence, the goddess of love, beauty, and compassion, he was at a loss in the face of a warrior’s death.

‘It would be strange to join in their mourning…’

While it felt odd to be unaffected by the deaths, Sillan didn’t feel much sorrow for the knights. His profession had accustomed him to death, and he wasn’t particularly close to the fallen. Had they been followers of Philanence, it might have been different, but knights typically worship Ares.

Sillan had been eyeing Repenhardt with interest, seeking an opportunity to start a conversation. Stealthily, he approached Repenhardt.

“Excuse me, you’re Repen, right?”

“Huh? Why?”

Repenhardt instinctively stepped back as Sillan suddenly approached him with a question. He had been wary of him since the peculiar feeling he got earlier.

‘Why is he suddenly acting friendly?’

Looking up at Repenhardt with eager eyes, Sillan asked,

“How tall are you?”

“About 192cm…”

“And your weight?”

“Well, I haven’t measured it properly, so I’m not sure…”

Hmm, maybe between 110 and 120 kilograms? Lifting things like rocks tends to give one a sense of their own body weight. Despite not appearing overweight, his muscles were densely packed, making him weigh more than he looked.

‘Wow, even though it’s my own body, it’s quite brutish.’

Realizing the numbers made it more tangible. Weighing over 0.1 tons doesn’t seem very human-like, does it? This is almost twice the weight of my previous body.

“What kind of training did you do to build such a physique?”

“I just… got hit a lot, ate a lot, and lifted a lot?”

It was a straightforward and honest answer, but Sillan looked disappointed.

“As expected, warriors don’t readily share their training methods…”

It seemed there was a misunderstanding, but Repenhardt didn’t feel inclined to correct it. He got up, having already rescued the children, it was time to fulfill his purpose for being here.

‘Time to make money, money!’

Only then could he bring his beloved Siris along. With a gleam of avarice in his eyes, Repenhardt stood up, his expression outwardly serious.

“I’ll go scout the exit.”

Most of the knights looked at Repenhardt with admiration. Venturing into the dangerous depths of the dungeon to scout for his comrades! Despite his lowly birth, he seemed to understand the duty of a knight.

Sillan lit up, rising to his feet.

“Then I’ll come with you!”

“What are you going to do if something happens and there are more injured here?”

Sillan deflated at Repenhardt’s indifferent reply and sat down again. But it was a valid point; a healer should stay with the main group, not accompany a scout. Of course, Repenhardt planned to secretly loot the dungeon, so having someone follow him would be inconvenient.

Then, Stefan stood up.

“I’ll go, and Relsia, you stay here and help them.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The elf woman bowed respectfully. Stefan glared at Repenhardt.

“This shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

‘Why does he suddenly want to come along?’

Repenhardt internally sighed. He couldn’t think of an excuse to deter Stefan. Scratching his head, he casually responded and turned away.

“Sure, have it your way.”