30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?!-Chapter 286: What Justifies a Knight’s Battle? (9)

If a giant white termite, weighing over 60 kilograms and charging at a speed of 50 km/h, were coming straight at you—what would you do?

Now imagine not one, but 30,000 of these monstrous termites, each with rows of serrated shark-like teeth.

Normally, the answer would be obvious—

"Run like hell."

Their exoskeletons were already tough enough, but add sheer size and speed into the mix—an average speed of 50 km/h, with a top speed of 70 km/h—and it was clear:

Any human made of flesh and bone would be shredded to pieces upon impact.

Even a fortress wall wouldn’t survive their charge.

A city? Gone in half a day.

Most people would be shaking in terror, dizzy from the sheer scale of the nightmare descending upon them.

But—

"Not a bad number today."

"The locust swarm last time was worse."

"When a million of them poured in, I thought the world was ending."

"Bah, quit whining. Back in my day, there were three billion locusts covering the kingdom!"

"Now you’re just making things up."

"I’m not!"

There wasn’t a single trace of fear in the warriors’ expressions.

Only relaxed smirks and focused gazes—a calm intensity mixed with the faintest traces of battle-hardened tension.

Veterans.

The Mordred warriors exuded the unmistakable aura of seasoned fighters—men who had faced death so often that it had become routine.

And leading them was a man raising a tattered, worn-out banner—

A white flag emblazoned with a black shield and a ghostly face.

That flag, gripped tightly in the Margrave’s hands, was the beacon for every warrior present.

"Aim!"

Clack!

Rifles, cannons, and strange, oversized artillery pieces locked into position—each one trained on the approaching horde.

The enemy was closing in fast.

And yet—the banner remained still.

Waiting.

Just a little longer.

RUMBLE—!!!

The closer the horde got, the heavier the pressure became.

The ground trembled beneath them, and a dust-filled gust swept across the battlefield.

The tension was rising—

The weight of the onslaught pressing down on every soldier—

Until—

"—Fire!!!"

SWISH!

The flag snapped downward.

BOOM!

In an instant, rifles and cannons roared to life.

And then—

WHOOSH!

The massive artillery piece—unlike anything found in normal armies—

unleashed a torrent of pure FLAMES.

KAAAAAAA—!!!

BOOOOOM!!!

A wave of fire engulfed the front ranks of the monstrous horde—spreading rapidly into their ranks.

Following the flames, bullets and cannon shells ripped through the burning creatures, tearing through row after row of the advancing army.

While the artillerymen reloaded, archers kept up the assault, firing in ceaseless volleys.

THWACK! CRACK!

[KIEEEEEK!!!]

Weakened by fire, bullets, and cannon blasts, the creatures’ tough exoskeletons began to crack.

Hundreds were impaled through the head by the relentless rain of arrows, falling lifeless to the ground.

Some, however, managed to break through the barrage—

But—

FWOOSH!

[!!!?]

The fire spread unnaturally fast, like Greek fire—clinging to their bodies and burning them alive.

Even with all this firepower, some still survived.

Some even reached the wooden barricades—

But—

SCHLICK!

"You think some filthy beasts can breach our lines?"

When did they get there?

From below the barricades, white-armored figures surged forth, their murderous aura sending shivers through the air.

They butchered the creatures with effortless precision.

BOOM! BOOM!

[??]

Meanwhile, the monsters that managed to charge into the knights were met with something unexpected.

Instead of crushing the knights on impact—

They destroyed themselves instead.

The knights stood unharmed, while the charging creatures shattered from their own force.

"Did you really think you could break through {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} our defense?!"

The knights mocked them.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The armor of the White Phantoms was not just grotesque in appearance—

It was an unbreakable shield, reinforced with an unnatural repelling force.

As if they had stolen the very traits of spectral entities.

Speed? Strength?

It didn’t matter.

Their armor was both the strongest shield and the deadliest weapon.

"In your next life, don’t even think about challenging Mordred."

CRACK!

***

"—They’re really enjoying themselves today."

"Hm?"

"Ah, I meant that in a good way. Just the other day, they were fighting like empty husks, just going through the motions. But look at them now—fighting with energy. Must be thanks to those letters you delivered. Though... they’re burning through their stamina a bit too fast because of it."

"So that’s what you meant."

Now that he mentioned it, something did seem exaggerated about their fighting.

It was almost like they were performing.

...Not that this battle was a show.

The knights and soldiers were fighting like madmen, and the monsters were dying too easily, but from the monsters’ perspective, this was pure hell.

It wasn’t that the creatures were weak.

It was just that—

"These people are just too skilled."

Like seasoned farmers harvesting their crops, their combat was flawless—clean, precise, and overwhelmingly one-sided.

Just how many battles had they fought to reach this level of proficiency?

At least when it came to fighting monsters, no other force could likely match them.

"Did they develop their own weapons?"

One of the most striking aspects was the quality of their weapons.

"They must’ve advanced their technology through constant battles."

Ihan had participated in wars before.

He had seen all kinds of weaponry and knew exactly how underwhelming firearms and cannons could be at times.

But now—

The firepower these men wielded was on a completely different level from the Royal Army’s.

Especially—

"How the hell did they build that?"

A flamethrower.

And it wasn’t just any fire—

Like napalm, the flames clung to the monsters and spread rapidly, carrying a toxic compound that weakened them further.

"This is pretty strong stuff... Is it safe?"

"For the knights? No worries. The <Soulsteel Armor> repels most poisons and curses."

"Oh."

"The Soulsteel Armor is the pinnacle of Mordred’s craftsmanship. Of course, it has this kind of function. But you should keep your distance—you might get poisoned."

"No need to worry. I can digest most poisons just fine."

"...?"

"This barely even counts as a poison. Just a bit of a sting."

"Really? That’s odd. I thought only he had that kind of resistance..."

BOOM—!!!

As if responding to the mention of his name, a towering figure made his presence known.

"Huuuuuuuuup!!"

Asking who was making the biggest impact in this battle would be pointless.

But if someone asked who was making the most ridiculous impact—

The answer would undoubtedly be—

Felix.

CRUNCH!

"AAAAAHH!!!"

A colossal figure clad in full plate armor, Felix had grown even larger, his form bulging with sheer raw power.

Each swing of his massive war mace was brutal, each strike showcasing what true, unrestrained violence looked like.

Wherever his mace passed, monsters fell.

Even if dozens swarmed him at once, he would flatten two or three with every single swing—an unstoppable force of destruction.

And yet—

"UAAAAAAHHH!!!"

"Vice Captain! Stop charging in alone!"

"Felix! That crazy bastard—he’s at it again!?"

The more blood he spilled, the wilder he became—

Throwing himself at the charging monsters with equal ferocity, as if challenging them head-on.

An act that would be suicidal for anyone else—

But neither Ihan nor Garnok looked particularly concerned.

Because—

CRUNCH!!!

It wasn’t Felix being crushed—

It was the monsters.

Within less than five minutes, Felix had annihilated over 300 of them.

And yet—he kept charging forward, looking for more enemies to grind into dust.

The Mad Dog of Mordred.

That title must have been given to him for this very insane, relentless aggression.

"That guy... Forget poison resistance—doesn’t he even feel the heat?"

"He’s a Mordred. He has a Guardian Spirit attached to him. He can move inside flames for about ten minutes without issue. Ah, but this is a secret. If people found out, they’d try to extract it from him."

"You must have a rough time."

"...I won’t deny it."

Garnok sighed and finally put on his helmet.

"Well then, excuse me for a moment. I’m going to help that idiot."

"Go ahead."

"Hmph. No ‘be careful’ or ‘let me help’?"

"This isn’t my battlefield. It’s yours."

"......."

Garnok’s eyes widened slightly.

It wasn’t cold-heartedness that surprised him.

No—

"That’s a great answer!"

It wasn’t pity, but respect.

Pleased, Garnok grinned and charged into battle—

Looking as happy as could be.

BOOM!

"...Man’s still got it."

Watching an old knight leap from an eight-story-high barricade with no hesitation, Ihan couldn’t help but feel impressed.

Just as he thought that, he sensed someone approaching.

He shifted aside without a word.

"Here to check on your father?"

"Don’t be ridiculous. He’s the strongest knight in Mordred. Even I haven’t beaten him yet."

"Then why is the ‘commander’ over here?"

"Because with him on the battlefield, the fight is already over. I’m here to ask you a question."

"Right now?"

"Time must be used efficiently."

Ssssshhh—

Cain Mordred lit a hand-rolled cigarette, exhaling slowly.

"Haaaah..."

"I don’t smoke."

"My apologies. But don’t worry—it’s made from herbs."

"Are you sick or something?"

"I wish it were just a physical illness."

"?"

"If I had to say what’s wrong, then... I suppose you could say my heart is sick. Though that must sound odd."

"......."

It was a strange sight.

Ahead of them, monsters burned and died.

Knights and soldiers cut them down mercilessly.

It was an overwhelming victory—one that should have elated any commander.

But Cain looked...

Unmoved.

Almost as if he were fighting out of obligation—not conviction.

And then—

"How much do you know?"

"?"

"About us. How much do you really know?"

Cain’s sharp gaze bore into him.

The lethargic noble from before was gone—

In his place was a beast waking from its slumber.

Even if his vitality had waned, a predator remained a predator.

That was Cain Mordred’s essence.

"How much, huh..."

Despite the intensity of his stare, Ihan remained unfazed, his expression apathetic.

He understood what Cain was doing.

"Testing me?"

It made sense—Cain must have been suspicious of why he was here.

Nobles were always paranoid, but Ihan didn’t find it strange.

If anything, not being cautious would be the real mistake.

So, Ihan decided to—

"Hmm, not much, really..."

—give him the honest answer.

"I know there’s a Great Demon sealed here, and that because of its ancient curse, everyone in Wales is doomed to die."

"......."

"And that you’ve been fighting here endlessly, just to slow the curse. But in the end, it’s just pouring water into a broken dam."

"......."

"What?"

"...No, it’s just... you know way too much."

"?"

"Ahem."

Even the one asking the question was now at a loss for words.