The Indomitable Martial King

“Hahaha!”

Kadamyte burst into a hearty laugh as he swung his axe-spear horizontally. Another knight was cleaved in half, his upper and lower body separating and spraying blood. Count Piterran was undoubtedly astonished by the prowess of a man who fought mounted knights on foot, but to an aura user like Kadamyte, these ordinary knights posed no threat. In fact, he felt confident he could take on all thirty knights by himself.

‘The Savior has commanded us not to manifest our aura, so it will take a lot of time.’

After felling his fourth knight, Kadamyte surveyed his surroundings.

Warrior Malroid. Warrior Sloytle.

Other aura users from the Grand Forge were also easily dispatching the knights. Like Kadamyte, they refrained from directly channeling aura into their axes or hammers. Repenhardt had instructed them to conceal their status as aura users in this battle to save their true power for a more dramatic and grand stage.

Despite this, they were effortlessly handling the knights as if playing with children.

Simply using aura to enhance their physical bodies was enough to elevate aura users to the level of superhumans. There was no need to manifest aura to deal with these knights. They slaughtered their opponents without sustaining any injuries, not even a scratch on their armor.

Meanwhile, Count Piterran felt as if he were trapped in a nightmare.

The knights he cherished and nurtured were being killed off so easily. While the three dwarves with overwhelming prowess were frightening, even the other dwarves were each like monsters, matching the knights in combat. As most of his thirty knights fell, not a single dwarf had even suffered a minor injury.

During this time, an infantry unit of eight hundred finally arrived on the battlefield. Count Piterran shouted in a near-tearful voice.

“Infantry! Charge! Charge!”

The infantry charged at the dwarves, swinging their spears. The battle of eight hundred against one hundred began.

However, the one hundred were dominating the battlefield.

The hundred dwarven soldiers tore through the infantry like wolves among sheep. Blood splattered and screams pierced the sky.

Having witnessed the abject defeat of their leaders, the knights, the infantry’s morale was already shattered. Although their training allowed them to move reflexively upon command, their spirits were broken. Soldiers began to flee from various points within the infantry ranks.

‘No, even if their morale had been high, they wouldn’t have stood a chance.’

Repenhardt, seated on the coachman’s seat, observed the battlefield with a bitter smile.

It might look like a battle of eight hundred against one hundred at first glance, but the reality was completely different. These were the elite warriors of Grand Forge.

Humans often conscripted farmers, taught them the basics, handed them spears, and sent them to the battlefield. However, for dwarves and orcs, whose populations were precious, warriors and those in production roles were distinctly separated. For them, being a warrior was equivalent to being a knight among humans.

In other words, this battle was essentially one where a hundred knights were ravaging eight hundred ordinary soldiers. Unlike ordinary human knights, these dwarf warriors were extremely trained and selected through harsh environments. Ordinary soldiers stood no chance against these battle-hardened veterans.

‘It’s worth the trouble of bringing them here.’

Reflecting on the journey so far, Repenhardt chuckled to himself.

Upon returning to the Kingdom of Crovence, Repenhardt used a spatial portal while acquiring grain from the Taoban Trading Company to move the dwarves of Grand Forge en masse to the Kingdom of Crovence. They first moved to the Principality of Chatan using the Daiman Stone from Grand Forge. From there, they disguised everyone in robes as escort troops of the Taoban Trading Company and crossed the southern part of the Setelad Mountains. Officially, the warriors of Grand Forge held the status of Repenhardt’s personal slaves, and with slave documents formally authorized by the Taoban Trading Company, they could pass through the Principality of Chatan and enter the Kingdom of Crovence.

Thus, the dwarves currently moved to the Kingdom of Crovence included the aura users Kadamyte, Malroid, Sloytle, and a hundred warriors. Although the magic corps were still not highly skilled and remained in Grand Forge, even this force alone was more than enough to counter Count Piterran’s army.

Watching the battlefield from beside the coachman’s seat, Sillan, who was ready to heal any possible injured, stuck out his tongue in astonishment.

“Still, I didn’t expect it to be this overwhelming.”

“Well, we were thoroughly prepared while they were completely unguarded both strategically and mentally. Our objective power was higher, and on top of that, the weak were caught off guard, so the outcome is obvious, isn’t it?”

At Repenhardt’s words, Siris, who was sitting next to him, cast a sympathetic glance at the enemy commander. Count Piterran, looking as if he was experiencing a nightmare, was shouting frantically.

“Fight! They are just dwarves! What can those lowly midgets possibly do?”

Thinking about it, Count Piterran was by no means an incompetent commander. He was a seasoned knight who had participated in numerous battles and had thoroughly prepared for this one, checking all the factors. There was nothing militarily wrong with his actions.

Count Piterran prepared for a game of chess, while Repenhardt had brought out the pieces for a different game altogether, perhaps a metaphorical set of shogi pieces. The rules were entirely different, leaving no room for prediction or effective response. No matter how skilled a knight, they couldn’t have anticipated facing three dwarf Aura users.

‘Predicting that would be more divination than military strategy.’

As the tide of battle clearly turned, Kadamyte, following prior instructions, shouted out loud.

“Do not chase the fleeing ones! Our mission is merely to escort this carriage!”

This was meant for Count Piterran’s soldiers to hear, not his own allies. Unsurprisingly, upon hearing they wouldn’t be pursued, the surviving infantry dropped their weapons and scattered in all directions.

“Don’t retreat! Don’t retreat!”

Count Piterran shouted until his voice was hoarse, but he couldn’t stop the soldiers from fleeing. By the time he regained his composure, he realized he was alone, surrounded by enemies, having lost all his knights and soldiers.

“Damn it…”

Only then did the fear of death surface on Count Piterran’s face. Dwarf warriors, their weapons drenched in blood, grinned at him. They looked like cats toying with a mouse. Trembling with a mix of rage and terror, Count Piterran bellowed.

“Who is your master!”

Even in such dire straits, he couldn’t abandon the belief that these dwarfs were someone’s slaves. It was an ingrained mindset of the era’s nobility.

Count Piterran’s eyes finally landed on a young swordsman on horseback, observing the battle from a distance without participating. It was Russ.

Repenhardt’s party had stayed by the carriage, anticipating the possibility of the dwarfs’ defensive line being breached. Their job was to prevent any sabotage of the grains. However, the dwarf warriors fought so effectively that they ended up as mere spectators.

Thus, Russ was simply watching the battle unfold from horseback beside the carriage. To Count Piterran, this made him look like the dwarfs’ master.

With a face determined for death, Count Piterran raised his sword. He shouted with dignity.

“Any man of honor would not let a knight die at the hands of such lowly creatures!”

The dwarfs exchanged glances, snickering and murmuring.

“What a bother.”

“He doesn’t know any better. Can’t really blame him.”

“True, it’s ignorance, not malice.”

As a dwarf able to hear the voice of truth, he immediately understood that Count Piterran was now acknowledging his defeat and, like a true knight, desired an “honorable death.” He was so earnest that even a sneer couldn’t escape.

Kadamyte gripped his axe-spear and stepped forward.

“Shall I do it?”

The black-bearded dwarf, Malroid, shook his head and raised his hammer.

“No, Kadamyte. I will.”

The other dwarf warriors murmured in dissent.

“Hey, can’t I do it?”

“Exactly. If you go, it’ll be over in one blow.”

“You’ve done plenty of cutting; take a rest.”

It wasn’t that the dwarves were seeking glory. They were genuinely embodying the spirit of helping each other out, offering to take on the hard task so that others, who had exerted themselves, could rest.

Of course, for Count Piterran, listening to this conversation was enough to make his blood pressure skyrocket and clutch the back of his neck in anger.

“You, you wretched creatures!”

Enraged, Piterran spurred his horse. He galloped forward, brandishing his spear and charging valiantly into the midst of the dwarves, a true exemplar of knighthood.

At that moment, someone else rode forward from the other side. It wasn’t a dwarf but an orc gladiator, his body covered in scars. He wielded a lance and charged ferociously at Count Piterran, shouting,

“Talkata! I will kill you!”

At this sight, Count Piterran’s rage peaked.

“A filthy orc dares!”

Count Piterran was aware that some seasoned orc gladiators possessed skills on par with knights. But that was strictly on the ground.

An orc daring to charge a knight on horseback?

“Do you think so little of me!”

For Count Piterran, who believed that no orc could ever have learned equestrian skills, it was an absurd situation. His beard quivered with fury as he clashed with the orc gladiator, Talkata. Their weapons clashed and grazed each other…

Swish!

With a spurt of blood, Count Piterran’s head flew into the air. Even in death, his face was filled with anger, unable to believe he could be killed.

Thud!

Rolling…

Piterran’s headless body fell from his horse. His beloved horse ran a little before stopping in place. Talkata picked up Piterran’s fallen head with his sword and proudly returned to Repenhardt.

Talkata dismounted, knelt, and presented Piterran’s neck, shouting in Orcish.

“My lord, I have beheaded the enemy commander!”

“Uh, yes. Well done.”

Repenhardt scratched his chin with a reluctant expression. He clicked his tongue while looking at the Orc, Talkata, before him.

“Click… You’ve been educated, but your ideology hasn’t changed yet…”

Repenhardt had not only brought the dwarves from the Grand Forge through the Taoban Trading Company. He had previously killed Teriq of the Rolpein Trading Company, taken in the elf and orc slaves, and entrusted them to the Taoban Trading Company, asking them to teach these slaves human education. Now, six months later, seeing an opportunity, he had brought them back.

‘The plan has been half-successful, but still…’

Talkata, who had been an orc gladiator, had formally learned equestrian skills and had reached a level where he could perform mounted combat comparable to any knight. The orcs, who had been mere servants, had learned swordsmanship under Talkata and embraced the warrior’s spirit, transforming into capable warriors. The elf women, who had been prostitutes, had learned accounting and various merchant techniques and were now adeptly managing military provisions.

Sieboldt, the head of the Taoban Trading Company, was also impressed by the effectiveness of these orcs and elves learning ‘human-like’ knowledge and began similar education for his own slaves. Rumor had it that other trading companies in the Duchy of Chatan had started similar practices.

Up to this point, everything was going according to Repenhardt’s plan…

‘But the slaves still don’t show much change in their ideology.’

The anticipated awakening of the slaves’ consciousness of freedom was nowhere to be seen. The elves and orcs, who had become more capable and intelligent than before, had only deepened their loyalty to Repenhardt, thinking of him as their true master. While it was gratifying that they were loyal and trustworthy, their blind servitude to him as their master was problematic.

What he desired was for them to transform from dogs into wolves, but they had become more loyal hounds.

‘Well, what did I expect to see results already after just half a year? I’m being impatient…’

After pondering for a moment, Repenhardt relaxed his expression. This was not a plan he expected to see immediate results from.

Hadn’t Makelin also said? No matter what methods are used, the path he must walk is distant. Right now, receiving human education is a ‘privilege’ to which they are devoted, but when all slaves start being educated and it becomes ‘normal,’ the ideology of the slaves will surely change.

There is no need to rush.

If he keeps planting various seeds, eventually some will sprout.