Chapter 657
A burly, hairy northerner suddenly blocked the way.
The face looked familiar.
The same guy who had picked a fight and bumped into Simon earlier that morning. Beside him stood three more northerners, who looked like his companions.
“Hey, are you really a man? That face of yours is way too pretty.”
Every time he twisted his mouth, the thick brown beard covering his face quivered.
“Look at this. A noble gentleman who eats well, bathes well, and takes care of himself—what business could someone like you have in a shabby place like this?”
“Obvious. The South must be up to some scheme again.”
Simon quietly sighed.
“What do you want?”
“Wahahahaha! ‘What do I want?’ he says! Acting all high and mighty like some stuck-up maiden.”
The northerner jabbed Simon’s shoulder with his brutish, oversized one.
“Should I count wanting to hear the sounds you make in bed as a ‘reason’ too?”
“Kehkehkeh!”
Vulgar thugs. Their quality was so low it made Simon’s head throb just to deal with them.
Ignoring them, Simon walked on.
“Oh-ho, just walking away, are you?”
The men guffawed, shouting at Simon’s back.
“That’s why you keep failing! We all saw you get brushed off when you tried to approach the Grand Duke this morning!”
“Hahahaha!”
Too low-class to bother with.
If he lost his temper and beat them, wouldn’t he just drop to their level? Better to think of it as stepping in dog shit on the road.
“Milord!”
Then, a voice called out to Simon from behind. Erzebet was running over, carrying a bag filled with fruit and a wine bottle.
“Oops, pardon me!”
The bearded man lunged forward and roughly grabbed Erzebet’s wrist. The bag she was holding slipped from her hands.
Fruit spilled out, and crash!—the wine bottle shattered, soaking the street in a purple flood.
“Well, well~ so there really was a little miss with you.”
“What are you doing? Let me go!”
Unable to reveal her true identity, Erzebet shouted, but the men only smirked and circled her.
“Is she your servant? Calling trash like you ‘Milord’? Life sure is funny in the South.”
“Hey, look at this.”
Another man yanked up her robe, revealing her revealing armor beneath.
“Puhahahaha! What a sight!”
“You’re walking around the North dressed like this? Guess you’re the type who knows how to play.”
Squeeze—
On the other side, another man seized Erzebet’s shoulder firmly.
“You’ve caught my eye. How about we have some fun toge—”
Crunch!
“Huh?”
The sound of bones breaking rang out vividly.
The man looked down. The wrist gripping Erzebet had been bent the wrong way, the back of his hand pressed against his forearm.
“Gaaaaah!”
Thud!
He dropped to one knee, clutching his ruined wrist. And there, between him and Erzebet, stood a boy with blue hair, eyes glinting sharply.
“You bastard!”
“Get him!”
The man with the broken wrist swung his other fist.
Crack!
Simon’s knee smashed into his nose, flattening it gruesomely. He spun back, blood spraying a crimson arc.
Bwoom!
Another man swung a savage hook, but Simon merely raised his palm and deflected it with ease. Then, in a flash, he closed the distance.
Thwack!
A blue flash split the air. Simon’s foot was under the man’s chin. His body flew up, feet leaving the ground, only for Simon to grab the back of his head and slam it into the cobblestones.
The man’s eyes rolled back as he went limp.
“You bastard!”
A straight punch came flying from behind. Simon shifted his weight to his left foot, tilting his head fluidly out of the way.
At the same time, he seized the outstretched forearm and twisted his waist, slamming the man into the ground.
Boom!
The ground cracked, pebbles scattering.
In mere seconds, three grown men were sprawled unconscious.
“Oh? What are you?”
The bearded man who started the trouble cracked his knuckles, intrigued.
“You looked weak, but turns out you can fight.”
He raised his fists, dark energy seeping out of them. Simon’s eyes sharpened.
“Darkness?”
“Yeah! What’s the point of words between men?!”
Bang!
His body launched forward, a leap like a beast’s.
‘Now he’s stepping on Darkness.’
The bearded northerner closed the gap in a blink, raining down punches. Simon dodged with only subtle shoulder movements as he backed away.
‘Even Magical Combat too.’
Not refined, but honed brutally through raw battle experience. He pressed Simon toward the wall, cutting off escape routes.
“Hahaha! How long will you just dodge?!”
The man roared.
“If you’re a man, stop using those fancy tricks and fight proper—ugh?!”
Crack!
Simon’s fist smashed into his face. His body flew like lightning and crashed into the wall.
“?!”
Whoosh!
Simon’s coat, still flaring from the strike, drifted back down. His posture—stance, footwork, arm extension—formed the image of a perfect straight punch. Slowly, he lowered his arm.
“You’re the one playing with cheap tricks.”
Seeing the dark-blue aura swirling around Simon’s fist, the man’s expression grew serious.
“...So, you were a necromancer.”
Rumble!
Covered in dust, the bearded man staggered up, blood running down his face. He swayed, collapsed back to the ground.
Then vomited blood onto the street. Chuckling, he traced a magic circle with his finger dipped in blood.
“Good. Let’s play properly.”
Vrrrm!
The blood circle activated. His clothes shredded away as tattoos surged to the surface, glowing red like fresh blood.
“Didn’t think I’d use this against a human opponent!”
Tszzzzz!
A crimson fin like a shark’s sprouted from his back. His eyes glowed red.
“Brace yourself! You won’t even have time to—!”
But reality proved otherwise.
Smash!
A blow struck the back of his head, slamming his face into the dirt. Dust and the smell of spilled wine filled his nose.
“Ghhk!”
Standing casually with hands in his pockets, Simon pressed his foot down on the back of the warrior’s skull, his expression bored.
‘...Th-this isn’t right!’
“Sorry, didn’t catch that.”
Simon spoke calmly.
“You said brace myself for what?”
The man’s eyes flared with rage.
“Grrrrraaaaaah!”
The fin on his back grew larger as he forced himself up.
Crunch!
“Uuurgh!!”
Only to be stomped down again. Simon rubbed his eyes as though the whole ordeal was tiresome.
“Grrrah, what? Say it again. You were about to do something, weren’t you?”
The northerner finally realized.
He had made a grave mistake.
“Come on.”
Simon lifted his foot, even helpfully stepping aside, then turned with arms open.
“Do your best.”
Pop!
A vein bulged on the northerner’s forehead.
Six years wielding an axe as a warrior, never before had he suffered humiliation like this.
“Southerner!!!”
A massive fin surged behind him, Darkness erupting through his body. He stomped off the ground, lunging with what he was certain would be the greatest punch of his life.
Or so he thought.
Thmp.
“!”
The northerner’s massive fist had been stopped—by nothing more than Simon’s extended index finger.
“All done?”
Simon muttered lazily, pulling out the other hand he’d kept hidden in his robe pocket. He placed it against the man’s forehead.
Smack!
A crisp flick of the finger. A strike with not a shred of wasted force.
The bearded man’s eyes rolled back, foam bubbling at his mouth as he collapsed.
“Th-this… impossible…!”
The warriors sprawled on the ground groaned, trembling in fear.
Toying with a Core-unleashed warrior like that?
“They say in the North the victor can do whatever they want, don’t they?”
Simon brushed his hands clean with a smirk. To the warriors, that smile looked positively demonic.
“I’d love to break you all in half, but… I’ll let you off, out of respect for the Grand Duke.”
“Let’s go, Erze.”
Face flushed bright red from watching everything, Erzebet quickly nodded.
“Yes, Milord!”
Clinging to Simon’s arm, she giggled.
“As expected, as expected~ Thank you for saving me!”
“If you’d stepped in yourself, you probably would’ve chopped off someone’s limb.”
“Oh my, caught me red-handed?”
The warriors could only stare blankly as the two walked away.
Strange people had come to the North.
* * *
That evening, Simon rested while chatting with Erzebet. By dawn, he lit a lamp and worked on school assignments.
Just because he was taking special lessons didn’t mean Keyzen’s curriculum had stopped. There would be make-up classes when he returned, but his daily study quota still had to be met.
After only a few hours of sleep, morning came.
Today at last, the Grand Duke’s Legion Commander lessons would begin.
Simon finished his assignments, had breakfast at the inn, then headed to the inner castle.
“Welcome.”
The butler, Godrick, greeted him with noticeably more warmth than on the first day.
“His Grace awaits you in the office.”
“Thank you.”
Simon climbed to the second floor and knocked on the office door.
“It’s Simon.”
“Enter.”
As he stepped inside, Simon froze.
Early in the morning, the Grand Duke was drenched in sweat, working out.
One hand clasped behind her back, she supported herself on two fingers, lowering and raising her entire body in fingertip push-ups.
Huff—huff—
Every motion made her muscles bulge and contract. The sheer volume of her training was obvious.
But what shocked Simon more—
‘Her outfit…!’
For the first time, she wasn’t wearing her trademark black full plate.
Despite the freezing weather that could freeze entire rivers solid, she wore short training shorts and a cropped top that revealed her midriff.
“You’ve come. Arrogant boy.”
She rose fluidly to her feet, muscles taut and powerful. Her forearms and thighs were perfectly sculpted, her stomach firm with visible abs, the result of relentless discipline.
Simon found it hard to meet her eyes, averting his gaze slightly.
“G-good morning.”
“Mm.”
She picked up an iron dumbbell beside the desk and began working with it.
“Nothing unusual last night? With an outsider here, I imagine some fools must’ve picked a fight.”
She said it as though she already knew.
Simon scratched his head awkwardly.
“Well… there was a bit of trouble.”
“I thought so. The people here don’t just dislike southern nobles—they despise them.”
Clang!
She dropped the dumbbell.
“If they get uppity, beat them down as much as you want. Show them your strength, and they’ll back off. But if things escalate too far, report it to me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Godrick, waiting nearby, handed her water. She drank deeply, then turned back to Simon.
“Now then, arrogant boy. Before the lesson begins, a few questions. How long have you been a Legion Commander?”
“Not long after I became a necromancer.”
“Ancient Undeads you command?”
Simon counted on his fingers.
“I currently have four Ancient Undeads under the 7th Legion. On top of that, I’ve legionized a Lich of Ancient Undead class. Oh, I also had one called Claw of Plague, but its body collapsed, so I absorbed it into Feer’s Greatsword.”
“Oh-ho.”
The Grand Duke nodded with satisfaction.
“Impressive. In such a short time, you’ve gathered quite a lineup.”
“All thanks to the help of many people.”
“Then, the full forces of your Legion—”
Her words cut short, her expression turning sharp. She snapped her head toward the window, then strode over.
“Excuse me a moment.”
“Ah, of course.”
She picked up a bow resting against the wall.
Its appearance was bizarre.
Not carved wood, but wrapped in living strands of black fire.
It radiated the same ominous aura as Feer’s Greatsword of Destruction. Simon guessed it must be a weapon reserved for Masters of the Legions.
Swish.
“Godrick. Window ten.”
“Yes!”
Simon noticed now—the office was filled with windows. Over twenty in total, even in the ceiling, since the office was a detached annex.
Clack!
Godrick dashed to the tenth window, flung it open, and flattened himself to the floor.
The Grand Duke extended her palm.
Wooooo…!
A wailing sound like the cries of spirits, as Darkness gathered into her hand. She clenched her fist, shaping it into an arrow.
Without even looking at her target, she simply nocked it and fired.
Whoooosh!
The surroundings warped pitch black as something massive tore through the air.
Then, calmly, she set the bow down and returned to Simon.
“Now, back to where we left off. Your Legion’s troop strength—”
“W-wait! What did you just do?!”
“Nothing remarkable.”
Her lips curved.
“Assassination.”
Superb.
When are we getting more free chapters?
Thanks for the new chapters