Chapter 137

Chapter 137: The Escape Attempt

About twenty to thirty minutes on foot from the trading port of Mudside, there was a coastal area.

A vast tidal flat stretched wide across this place.

Due to how sticky the mud was, it was difficult to escape once a foot sank into it, making it a place rarely visited by people. Yet now, an unusual sight unfolded here.

Lined along the coast of the tidal flat were about ten military ships, half-destroyed, with their shattered debris scattered around.

“Haaah… Haaah…”

“We… we survived.”

From inside and underneath the wreckage, the sailors, soldiers, and knights of the Tread household crawled out one by one.

And also…

“Bleeegh! Bleeegh!”

Someone was vomiting onto the ground.

“Get up! Get up, you bastard!”

A person slapped and shook the cold corpse of a comrade, pressing on their chest.

“Pull the ones who fell into the water out first!”

“Daaamn it! Get a grip!”

With people scrambling to save the drowned soldiers and sailors, the scene was nothing short of hell.

From the perspective of the Count of Tread, the only small relief was that most of the casualties had spared the knights.

“Uuurrgh! Goddamn it!”

Chillas, the 2nd Unit Commander, who had been floundering in the sea, crawled out with a face like a wild beast.

“Hurry up and get out! Move it!”

“Check if there’s anyone left inside! Move!”

Gilton, the 3rd Unit Commander, and Bohim, the 4th Unit Commander, were frantically trying to organize the situation while urging their subordinates.

It was pure chaos—an absolute battlefield.

‘Hmm, an unexpected blow indeed.’

Watching this hellish scene in silence was Commander Pattinson.

At that moment, Count Vernian approached him and asked,

“Report the damage.”

Count Vernian’s face showed not just composure but even a slight hint of excitement.

Seeing this, Pattinson widened his eyes for a moment, then scratched his cheek as he replied.

“Four warships have sunk, and the rest are unfit for proper navigation. Combining soldiers and sailors… we’ve lost at least a hundred to two hundred. Two or three knights have also died. Honestly, considering this is just a skirmish with someone like Daphne, it’s a painful outcome.”

Count Vernian frowned in displeasure and replied,

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Excuse me?”

“Soldiers are just numbers—replaceable. And if those bastards go this far, then it becomes an even stronger justification. No, if you think of it as the price for that justification… isn’t it actually a cheap trade?”

Pattinson twitched an eyebrow, then nodded in agreement.

“I see… So you intend to swallow the entire Daphne Viscounty?”

“Of course.”

Count Vernian licked his lips openly and wiggled his fingers.

Like a child gleeful before a new toy.

Watching this, Pattinson swallowed hard.

‘So that’s what this is about.’

The goal of this invasion had been the destruction and annihilation of Mudside—nothing more.

Because it was far from the Tread household's domain and the initiation of this battle itself had been somewhat forced, even if they had won, they wouldn’t have been able to devour the entire Daphne territory without considering the watchful eyes of the surrounding noble houses.

‘But now, a situation has unfolded where hundreds of troops have drowned helplessly.’

Vernian intended to use even this as justification to consume the entirety of Daphne.

If that could be achieved, then just as he said, the sacrifice of a few hundred soldiers wouldn’t be a serious matter.

‘Truly… his mindset is completely unfitting for someone his age.’

Even though hundreds of their own men had died.

Even as hell unfolded before his eyes.

Commander Pattinson felt chills and fear—not toward the enemy, but toward the lord standing before him.

‘How in the world did such a monster come from the bloodline of the former Lord?’

The face of the former Lord of Tread, indecisive and foolish, briefly came to mind.

And at that moment, the thick scent of blood reached the tip of his nose.

Pattinson curled up his lips into a wide grin.

‘Well, having a master worth serving… isn’t such a bad thing.’

Then, both Pattinson and Count Vernian’s gazes focused on a single point.

Not far from here, five of Daphne’s ironclad ships had run aground.

“Bleeaargh!”

“I-I thought I was gonna die!”

From there, Daphne’s forces began staggering onto land in a stream.

The two men’s eyes met, and Count Vernian gave a faint, knowing nod with a grin.

Pattinson drew the sword from his waist and pointed it toward the ironclads.

“Gather uuuup! We strike those bastards—right now!”

Immediately, confusion spread across the faces of the nearby Tread troops.

“B-but Commander! There are still tons of people to rescue! If we pursue now, the number of casualties will increase. We should tend to the wounded firs—”

One of the knights standing nearby approached and spoke in a pleading tone.

“……”

Crack.

Count Vernian’s brow twisted grotesquely, and a strong scent of blood erupted from him.

Commander Pattinson, catching this from the corner of his eye, seemed to make a decision. He clenched his fist tightly and marched forward.

Then—

SMAAACK!

“Guhaaaagh!”

His stone-like fist slammed into the knight’s face.

The knight’s body flew through the air and crashed into the tidal flat.

Judging from his convulsing body, he didn’t seem dead… but he was clearly in no condition to come to his senses anytime soon.

Pattinson looked around at the surrounding troops and bellowed grandly.

“Shut your mouths! This is a direct order from our Lord—carry it out immediately!”

“Y-yes, sir!”

The troops, unable to defy the command, hurried to gather.

Pattinson turned his gaze slightly to the side once more.

And then—

“Good, good. Huu… huhuhu.”

Count Vernian’s face, twisted like that of a demon, came into view.

A presence that seemed to harbor all the world’s malice and wickedness.

Maybe that was why—

Shiver!

Beads of sweat began to form on Pattinson’s forehead.

---

On the deck of one of Daphne’s ironclad ships—

“Aaaargh, it hurts!”

Mikkelsen, who was stuck between the broken planks of the deck, let out a painful scream.

Because Hardin was gripping his arm tightly and pulling hard.

“Endure it, you bastard!”

“My arm! My arm’s gonna tear off, Young Master!”

“It won’t tear from just this!”

How long had they struggled like that?

Pop!

Mikkelsen’s body was yanked free from between the deck boards—

“Waaaaaah!”

—only to be flung straight over the side of the ship…

Splat!

And crash-landed on the tidal flat.

“Damniiit…”

Mikkelsen sat up with a muddy face, looking as if he might cry.

“You okay, Mikkelsen?”

“…Looks like he’s still alive.”

From below, Beryl and Manton, who had been standing by, called out to him.

Not just the knights, but most of the sailors and soldiers had now escaped the ship as well.

“Brother Beryl…”

Mikkelsen’s eyes and mouth began to twitch.

“I really thought I was gonna die!”

Tears streamed down his face as he threw himself into Beryl’s arms.

“Mikkelseeen! I thought I was done for too!”

Beryl also hugged him tightly and began to wail.

It was a… heartwarming(?) scene that made anyone watching cringe.

Even though the rain had eased up a bit, it was still falling, making the whole situation look downright ridiculous.

The one silver lining was… everyone else seemed to feel the same way.

‘Seriously, it’s a damn miracle we’re alive.’

‘…Felt like I was in a nightmare.’

They had watched several of Tread’s warships break apart and countless people get swept away by the tidal wave.

Just not being one of them felt like sheer luck.

And then—

SMACK!

“Guhaagh!”

“Ow! Who was that?!”

A pair of fists slammed simultaneously into the heads of Beryl and Mikkelsen.

The two turned around in irritation—

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Young Master?”

Hardin stood there, frowning deeply.

He let out a heavy sigh, then pointed off to the side.

“Is this really the time to be doing that? Don’t you see them?”

“What do you mean…”

“Huh…?”

Roughly a kilometer away—

Though the sun had long since set and storm clouds made visibility poor… they could make out a dark mass approaching them.

“What is that?”

Everyone squinted and leaned their heads forward.

Once their eyes had adjusted to the dark—

“Chaaaaarge!”

“Advance!”

A sharp cry rang out in the distance as the figures of the shadows became clear.

With bloodshot eyes and clenched teeth, Tread’s troops were charging straight toward them.

The moment they saw them, everyone’s jaws dropped.

‘Damn it, I was so distracted I forgot!’

‘…Shit!’

At this rate, they’d be caught by Tread’s enraged forces and torn limb from limb.

That was when Manton drew his sword and shouted.

“Young Master, what are your orders?”

“What do you think? The answer’s obvious.”

“So we fight them after all?”

Tension spread across everyone’s faces, and a grim resolve filled the air.

‘Damn… is this where we make our last stand?’

‘Even if their numbers have dropped since before…’

Everyone instinctively knew—

This tidal flat could become their grave.

But then, Hardin shrugged his shoulders and scoffed.

“What are you talking about? Why the hell would we fight? You trying to take a group trip to hell?”

“Uh? Then what do we…?”

“What do you mean what—run.”

“…What?”

“Run. Fast enough your eyebrows fly off.”

Everyone blinked blankly at the unexpected command.

“Then, I’m off!”

Splat!

Mikkelsen immediately lunged forward with a big step.

Just as he was about to take his next stride—

“Huh?”

His body wouldn’t move forward as he expected.

He felt something pulling his shoulder. Turning his head, he saw Hardin staring right at him.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

“What do you mean where? You said to run!”

“Yeah, I didn’t say to go alone, did I?”

“Uh? What does that…”

If not alone, then how were they supposed to run?

Just as confusion clouded Mikkelsen’s face, Hardin held up three fingers.

“Three per person.”

“…Three?”

“Sailors or conscripts—it doesn’t matter. Each knight carries three people and gets out of this tidal flat.”

“Excuse me?”

“W-what kind of nonsense is that? If we get caught like that… we’ll all die, won’t we?”

“Don’t worry. They’ll never catch up.”

“But still…”

Mikkelsen tried to protest with a frightened look—

Crunch!

Hardin tightened his grip on Mikkelsen’s shoulder and said,

“Shut up and do as you're told.”

“Uuugh, understood.”

A cold, low voice.

‘Daaamn it… what the hell is he thinking?!’

Feeling utterly overwhelmed, Mikkelsen had no choice but to nod.

“Hurry up. You don’t need weapons or anything else, so throw away whatever’s getting in the way.”

“……”

“Now.”

“…Yes, sir!”

The soldiers and sailors began tossing everything beside them.

“One on your back, two in your arms.”

“Understood.”

The knights activated their strengthening technique and lifted two soldiers by the arms, one more onto their backs.

…Moments later, once everyone was ready, Hardin pointed in a direction and spoke.

“Run straight toward the port—don’t look back.”

“But in this state, there’s no way we can run…”

“You can. What do you think all that training was for?”

“Ah…”

Maybe it was something in those words—

The knights’ eyes widened as if something had clicked, and they all gave small nods.

Then—

Splat! Splat!

One by one, the knights began sprinting in the opposite direction.

They channeled mana into their legs, propelling themselves forward from the tips of their toes.

‘It’s working!’

‘It’s tough… but manageable!’

Though their feet sank nearly to their ankles with each step, they no longer sank deeper.

Not quite level ground, but flat enough to run on.

It was thanks to the mana control training they had endured for the past month.

‘We can escape.’

‘Yes…!’

Hope lit up on the knights’ faces, and their pace quickened.

And then—

‘Did the Young Master foresee even this situation when he made us train like that?’

Had he predicted all this and crafted the situation around it? Could something like that even be possible?

Manton, who had started off late, was filled with awe and disbelief.

Just as all the knights had cleared the area around the ironclads—

“Haaaah… seriously, they never listen.”

Tap, tap.

Hardin casually tapped his shoulder with the flat of his blade, then looked in the opposite direction.

Tread’s forces were still advancing but hadn’t even made it halfway yet.

‘Well, most of them are 2-star Knights anyway.’

Unless they were trained specifically like Hardin’s men had been, they’d struggle just getting through the tidal flats at that level.

His subordinates should have no trouble shaking them off.

However—

‘Some of them are a different story.’

Just then, a few figures started rapidly closing the distance.

They moved as if sprinting across solid ground.

The fact they could do that meant… their abilities exceeded even the average of the Anvil Knight Order.

‘Three of them.’

When they were within 100 meters, Hardin could clearly see their faces.

“HARDIN DAPHNEEEEEEE!”

A roaring voice reached him as Hardin exhaled hard through his nose.

‘…A familiar face.’

The one shouting with a nasty scar on his face, charging at the front—

That was none other than Unit 2 Commander, Chillas.

“That’s the Young Master, huh?”

“He’s gonna fight all three of us alone? Pretty bold of him.”

The two charging right behind Chillas were likely also unit commanders like him.

Hardin massaged his sore shoulder with a sigh.

After using Shockwave and struggling aboard the ship for hours, his body was in bad shape.

But still—what choice did he have?

If he failed to win, he would die—that was the nature of the battlefield.

“Uaaaaaaah!”

In that instant, Chillas leapt high and thrust his sword at Hardin.

Pababat!

The same Phantom Blades that left afterimages from their previous duel struck simultaneously from all directions.

At the same time, Hardin lowered his stance, his eyes gleaming sharply.

“You idiot!”

Chillas grinned as he shouted.

Pababat! Pababat!

Several of the Phantom Blades grazed Hardin’s shoulder and calf, and blood sprayed into the air.

‘Got him!’

Chillas, filled with confidence, rushed in to close the distance—

Slaaaash!

A sharp blue line slashed through the air—

“Wha… whaagh?”

Chzzzzk! Schlaaaack!

Chillas’s head separated cleanly from his body—

Splat!

—and dropped onto the mud, spewing blood.

“Ch-Chillas?”

“What the hell was that just now…?”

The two unit commanders behind him stopped in their tracks and readied their stances.

Hardin adjusted his grip on his sword, eyes gleaming like a wolf’s, and glared at them.

“Come.”

A low voice, nearly a growl.

From it emanated a chilling aura.

‘What… is he?’

‘What’s this pressure?’

Under the pale light of the moon now peeking through the clouds—

The faces of the two unit commanders were painted with confusion and fear.

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