Chapter 4
The two-meter-tall beast was powerful enough to make even seasoned soldiers hesitate before facing it head-on.
“Inferno.”
Fwoosh!
Inferno didn’t respond with words. Instead, he made his presence known through sheer heat.
A searing warmth filled my lungs, then spread through my entire body like fire in my veins.
“I have to save that child. Support me.”
A boy was stumbling slowly across the field.
The ash-gray wolf chasing him was five times faster.
The gate to the stronghold was still open.
But the soldiers stationed there didn’t look like they had any intention of saving the boy.
From behind, I heard the anguished cries of what must have been his parents.
Their screams shook the cold night air.
That trembling reached my heart.
I stepped through the wide-open gate.
A soldier who had been about to shut it shouted, startled.
“Y-Young master!”
A longsword hung loosely from my belt.
I held a round shield in my left hand.
That was all. No enchanted gear. No protective charms.
“Follow me.”
Four soldiers obeyed my command.
They knew as well as I did: if I died out there, they’d be next.
‘Four soldiers. I’ve imagined this kind of fight countless times.’
Back when I was Louis de Breio, I memorized every sword technique imaginable.
Of course, I’d never built up a single drop of aura to back it up. And my coordination was so poor, I couldn’t properly execute any of it.
‘But I also have the experience of Louis de Hebron now.’
Louis de Hebron had only average talent with a sword.
But that was enough to hold his own against beasts.
And I had absorbed his experiences.
No—we had become one.
Mediocre skill meets a genius of theory.
That was the Breio family’s philosophy: Raise a dog as if it were a dragon.
Shhhwing.
My longsword slid free from its scabbard.
The arc of the blade filled my vision.
A line of poetry from a legendary knight came to mind.
–I struck the moon reflected on the water, and climbed the current of moonlight, chasing a thought long past.
I’d memorized those lines without understanding them. But now they unfolded clearly in my mind.
It was a poetic way to describe a sword strike.
No—there was no better way to describe it.
I tightened my grip on the hilt. No trembling.
Just like a swordsman who had wielded blades all his life, I inhaled the battlefield air, filling my lungs.
‘I can do this.’
I’d trained in swordsmanship for the past few days.
I hadn’t executed a single full form, but I knew the techniques perfectly in theory.
Each time I mimicked them, I saw a spark of hope.
And today, I found something more than hope.
‘A mere wolf’
I charged at the beast.
There was no reason to retreat.
My subject was in danger, and I bore the blood of House Hebron—the baron’s duty was to protect his people.
In exchange for that protection, we collected taxes.
“Inferno, dwell into my blade!”
Inferno’s flame enveloped my sword.
The tip of the longsword turned red-hot.
KRAAAAAH!
The ash-gray wolf lunged to swallow the boy whole.
I rushed in as well.
“Get down!”
The boy squeezed his eyes shut and flattened himself against the ground.
At the very moment I leapt over him and faced the ash-gray wolf.
Shrrk!
The heated longsword sliced through the beast’s gaping jaws.
As soon as the blade met flesh, flames burst forth.
The top half of the creature’s snout tore open, leaving it in a stunned panic.
Swordsmanship was all about flow.
Recovering my swing, I drove the blade into the wolf’s belly.
Ssssss!
The smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Smoke billowed from the beast’s abdomen.
It writhed for a moment—then collapsed with a thud.
With one down, the remaining three slowed their charge.
They didn’t rush in. Instead, they circled me cautiously.
Not just because of me. The soldiers had caught up and were thrusting their spears to keep the wolves at bay.
“Hyah! Hyah! Get back, you beasts!”
“Tom, get up now! The young master himself came to save you. Show your thanks!”
One of the soldiers pulled young Tom to his feet.
Tom bowed again with his shaky legs.
Falling to his knees, he cried out.
“Thank you, my lord!”
I didn’t like how scrawny Tom looked.
“You can’t die just yet. Live another forty—no, fifty years and work for Hebron. That is your fate. Tomorrow morning, come to the lord’s granary. You’ll receive grain and meat. Your job now is to eat and put on some weight.”
That was the Breio way of calculation.
Even ordinary folk were kept alive and worked to the bone—until their roots rotted.
“Y-yes, of course! I’ll live for Hebron!”
Then it happened.
“L-look! Behind us!”
Wolves always hunted in packs. Naturally, there weren’t just four. They were just the vanguard.
Twenty more emerged behind them.
I fixed my gaze on the pack and asked the soldiers.
“Well then, isn’t this great?”
The soldiers looked at me in horror.
But I just grinned—and charged in.
“Yes! This is perfect!”
I cut down one of the wolves.
As soon as it fell, two more lunged at me.
I dodged one—and slashed down the other.
Then I struck the one that missed me.
Every movement flowed seamlessly, like water.
‘Still… I need more aura.’
Swordsmanship was built on the foundation of aura.
At the right moment, you had to channel a precise amount of aura into specific parts of the body for a technique to be complete.
With the little aura I had, I could only use the bare minimum to perform the forms.
But even that was enough to make me a force to be reckoned with— at least in a rural barony like this.
“Young master! Y-you’re incredible!”
“But you really should retreat now. Lo-Look, those wolves.…!”
One of the soldiers pointed behind me.
More wolves were charging in.
Their jaws open wide, white breath steaming in the air, full of murderous intent.
The massive beasts advanced in formation, shaking the very earth beneath them.
‘So this is a battlefield!’
It was a thrill I never knew in the underground vaults of House Breio.
Every nerve in my body was on edge.
I realized—I was truly ,and vividly alive.
The ones I’d faced first were merely the scouts.
The main force was behind them.
If we lingered any longer, we’d be surrounded.
Though I was excited, I wasn’t foolish enough to lose my head.
In fact, I was thinking more clearly than ever.
“Right. Let’s fall back.”
The soldiers sprinted toward the walls.
They matched my pace, and the boy dashed ahead with them.
“Don’t flail. Just survive. Live long—no matter what it takes.”
I lifted the boy with one hand.
“Ahhh! M-my lord, put me down! I’m heavy!”
“You’re skin and bones. I can’t even feel your weight. Can you even work like this? From now on, bulk up. Turn that fat into muscle. That’s your role as a commoner.”
With the boy tucked under my arm, I ran at full speed.
Even carrying him, the soldiers couldn’t keep up.
I was the first to reach the gates.
That was thanks to drawing up aura to fuel my footwork.
I set Tom down at the gate, and he bolted ahead.
His father embraced him, sobbing, while his mother smacked his back repeatedly.
It was a touching scene.
A warmth filled my chest—I protected that moment.
These people are mine. I won’t lose what’s mine. I will be greedy.
I waited for the soldiers to arrive, then declared.
“Shut the gate.”
“We can’t close it without you inside, my lord!”
The gatekeeper shouted, but I casually flicked my bloodied sword to clean it.
It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was well-maintained—fit for a baron’s son.
“Shut it. That’s an order from your master.”
The soldiers hesitated, then followed my command.
Good thing discipline still existed—at least to this extent.
“Support me from the walls. Use your bows—but don’t hit me.”
With that, I sprinted out once more.
I raced with wild joy.
The battlefield I had dreamed of all my life spread before me.
This was judgment day—a test to prove my worth at the boundary of life and death.
I failed before, but this time… I will succeed!
Shhhhk!
I lowered my stance and sliced a wolf’s leg.
As it stumbled and rolled across the ground— a hail of arrows rained down from above.
Thwack! Slash! Thwip-thwip-thwip!
I danced with the wolves.
If one of those massive beasts managed to pin me, it would be over.
So I never faced them head-on. I sidestepped, letting them pass—then slashed at their flanks.
‘Yes! This is it!’
I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this exhilarated.
My heart pounded wildly.
I’m actually performing swordsmanship!
The knights of House Breio would probably scoff if they saw this, But for the first time in my life, I was wielding my sword as a true swordsman.
Each flash of my blade ended another ash-gray wolf’s breath.
Flames burst from the tip of my sword.
One, two… six, seven… seventeen, eighteen!
“Huff… huff…”
My breath caught in my throat.
My hand trembled as it gripped the sword.
—If I push any further, my life will be in danger.
“You did great, Inferno.”
—Hmph.
Inferno’s flame faded.
The fire that had faithfully protected me throughout the battle was now extinguished.
Only one wolf remained.
Even after all its comrades were slain, it refused to flee. A remarkable creature.
Tap, tap.
I pointed my sword at the beast and said.
“I can kill you without the spirit’s help.”
Just then.
Shwhiiick—Thwip!
An arrow flew through the air and struck the wolf square in the forehead.
It froze like a stuffed animal, then tilted sideways.
Thud!
I turned to look.
A man stood atop the walls, like a living extension of the very wall itself. He was the only one in our barony who had ever been knighted: Sir Brown.
“My lord, are you alright?”
“No, not at all. Come down here and carry me back, would you? Haha…”
My legs gave out and I collapsed to the ground.
Sir Brown practically leapt off the wall and rushed to my side.
* * *
Sir Brown was surprisingly skilled with his hands.
He applied herbs to my wounds and wrapped the bandages neatly.
No potions… So this is why they call Hebron ‘The land of grass-eaters.’
Even the baron’s son didn’t get a potion—just herbs from the forest.
And the mixture was poorly made, barely helpful for healing.
I took the herbs, concocted a proper recovery tonic, and ordered clean bandages brought to me.
Fortunately, my body was young and resilient.
With a day or two of rest, I’d be back on my feet.
Not that I had any intention of resting idly.
Scratch, scratch.
I scribbled notes on paper with a cheap pen.
Before rolling the paper up, I wrote on top: ‘Herbal Mixture – by Louis de Hebron.’
I handed it over to the old man in Hebron in charge of folk remedies.
It came with a small note.
—Do not use any mixture other than this from now on! Louis de Hebron.
Even though I was just a nineteen-year-old heir, I was the next lord.
In this tiny House of Hebron, my words were as good as law.
“I’m fine now. You can go.”
“I’ll remain by your side.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“And I said I’m fine, too.”
Sir Brown stayed at my bedside.
He insisted on taking responsibility for having left me alone and vowed to remain until I recovered.
I finally persuaded him to leave—only to get caught secretly training my body. That erased any excuse I had to send him away again.
Eventually, Sir Brown broke the silence and asked.
“You’ve formed a contract with a fire spirit?”
“Yes.”
“And the spirit’s rank is…?”
“Lowest rank.”
In truth, Inferno was a mid-tier fire spirit, but usually only exhibited low-tier power during normal circumstances.
