Chapter 42

Knight Serg was a fucking 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, Serg's 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 mother's 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... Didn't 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 isn't some divine gift as depicted in fantasies or martial arts stories.

It's just... if you're physically monstrous, that's 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 doesn't 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 couldn't pierce Serg's 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.

How fast can nobles run, after all?

"Count Your Excellency. Do not worry. I will protect this place!"

"Oh! Sir Serg!"

Amidst the enemies swarming in, Serg stood valiantly in front of them.

"I am Serg of Gus! As long as I live, you shall not lay a finger on His Excellency!"

The soldiers flinched at Serg's roar.

A knight of tremendous stature blocked their way.

"Serg of Gus?"

"Who's that?"

A pursuing soldier whispered.

It was proof that Serg's name was not yet known.

But if he keeps making his name known, he might one day become a star knight recognized by someone.

"Stop talking nonsense and hand over the Count!"

A soldier charged at Serg.

Serg calmly swung his mace and struck the soldier's head.

"Be quiet!"

Bang!

The soldier collapsed, trembling, his brain scrambled by the concussion.

The look in the enemy soldiers' eyes changed.

This knight, just like his stature, has incredible strength!

"Those who want to die, come at me!"

Serg shouted excitedly.

He realized now was his time to reign as king.

But the enemies didn't pursue without a plan.

"Bring out the crossbows!"

"Yes!"

The pursuers took out the crossbows they had prepared in advance.

Some authors call them arbalests, but while arbalest has a nice ring to it, it's actually a bow that shoots stones.

The crossbow, or the mechanical bow known as the arbalest, is exactly this crossbow.

Serg's complexion turned pale at the sight of the crossbows.

And he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"You cowardly bastards! How dare you aim a beast-hunting bow at an honorable knight! If you're men, fight me fair and square!"

In medieval melee, a knight is a monster.

Sturdy armor! Heavy armament!

A knight armed with dense chainmail and a shield is an unstoppable killing machine.

However...

Historically, monsters were weak to bows.

Knights were no exception.

"Fire!"

The crossbows simultaneously shot their bolts.

"Wait, wait! I surrender! I surren...!"

Serg hastily raised his shield and shouted, but it was too late.

By bringing the crossbows, the enemies had already declared they had no intention of taking Serg alive.

They meant to kill him.

It would have been different if he were a knight from a famous family...

But the name of a butcher turned killer of human origin was still insignificant.

Serg fell to the barrage of bolts.

"You dared to kill our brothers."

One spat on the ground.

Unlike the hastily assembled Count's forces, Graham's army had many close-knit members.

They had disliked Serg ever since he joyfully farmed them for experience points.

"Now! Count! It's time to surrender..."

Leaving Serg, who had kneeled down, behind, the soldiers tried to approach the Count.

They thought Serg was at least incapacitated, if not dead.

...But that was a gross underestimation of Serg's body fat.

"Whoa, whoa!"

Serg, with bolts sticking all over him, resembling a giant cactus, suddenly stood up!

"Insane!"

"Is that even human!"

The enemy soldiers cursed and aimed their crossbows at him again.

It was an action they shouldn't have taken.

"Wait! The Count is behind him...!"

Unlike the calm first volley, the second was chaotic.

Especially since Serg was charging at them.

"No! Don't shoot! The Count will get hit!"

Although someone shouted, following that order was impossible.

With a half-orc warrior, a human-pig hybrid, charging at them, how could they abandon their only means of resistance, the crossbow?

As soon as the crossbows appeared, the Count's complexion also turned pale.

"Sir Serg! Protect me!"

Even though he was in the midst of fleeing, the Count believed he wouldn't die.

He was the one who had started the war, but he wouldn't die?

It was strange, but to the nobility, it was the natural order of things.

They had to capture the Count first, to negotiate or steal Lucy, right?

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!"