INMDR 11

Chapter 11

A killing blow, delivered together with Golgol.

Unfortunately, he was a better knight than I’d expected.

At the last possible moment, he twisted his body and narrowly avoided my strike.

But he didn’t escape completely.

My blade pierced straight through his shoulder.

He and I stood facing each other, blades embedded in one another’s bodies.

He was the first to speak.

“So… you had a hidden move.”

“That’s right. And not just one.”

I didn’t know how things had ended up like this, but I said whatever came to mind.

There was no way I could admit, ‘Actually, even I didn’t expect this to happen.’

Still—

“Damn… what now?”

Landing a hit was one thing.

What came next was the real problem.

That strike had only worked because I caught him off guard.

Now that he’d seen it once, there was no way someone with the blood of a thinking primate—an Australopithecus, no less—would fall for the same trick again.

So what should I do?

[You should retreat. This is danger—]

A warrior of Valhalla does not retreat.

I stepped forward with a warrior’s heart.

Shk.

The blade lodged in my shoulder shredded flesh as I moved, but I endured it. I turned the pain into rage and drove my sword even deeper into his shoulder.

“Was it Zeke?”

“Yes.”

“How about we end it here? This battlefield is too shabby a place for a knight like you to die.”

This time, I spoke with deliberate formality.

He smiled faintly.

“A knight? I’m just a mercenary who sells his blade. You flatter me. But… did you say I would die?”

“Yes.”

“You’re confident. Do you not know I haven’t pulled my sword out yet for your sake?”

What was he talking about?

[He’s right. If he pulls it out now, he’ll bleed out and die.]

Ah. So that was it.

How thoughtful.

Still, I didn’t retreat.

“Well, dying on the battlefield isn’t such a bad way to go. But tell me—aren’t you mistaken about something?”

“…I don’t quite follow.”

“Look around you. Where are we?”

“On a battlefield.”

“Exactly. A battlefield soaked in death. And who am I? Do I really need to say it out loud?”

“A necromancer…”

“Yes. I am a necromancer. Didn’t you realize? Every drop of blood spilled here, every death—belongs to me.”

[Is that true?]

Of course not.

I clicked my tongue internally at my naïve ancestor and caught the flicker of confusion in his eyes.

Now was the time.

“Though I am a necromancer, I also walk the path of the sword. I did not wish to use necromancy, but I wanted to cross blades with you as a knight. I, too, aspire to be one. But—”

Damn it. It hurts like hell.

I swallowed the pain and continued.

“I bear responsibilities as a noble. Responsibilities heavier than a knight’s pride. I cannot die here. So choose.”

“…Choose what?”

“End this here. Or retreat.”

“And if we don’t?”

“Then one of us won’t see tomorrow’s sun. And I assure you—it won’t be me.”

Silence.

His eyes wavered.

Was I bluffing?

Even I wasn’t sure anymore.

It was a bluff born of pure desperation.

“A soul-deep bluff,” you might say.

“So? If you surrender, I’ll ensure you’re treated with honor.”

“…Even though I sold my blade for money?”

“You didn’t sell your beliefs.”

“….”

His eyelids twitched.

I prayed desperately.

Please—please—answer already. I’m dying here!

After what felt like an eternity—

“…I surrender.”

“…!”

It worked?!

For a moment I thought I’d talked him into it.

But then—

“YOU BASTARD!”

A thunderous roar echoed.

Clatter—thud!

The pounding of hooves approached at full speed.

A gallant knight charged toward us.

Not Lord Balt.

“Father!”

“Hold on, son!”

Ah.

That explained it.

He’d surrendered because he saw my father approaching.

Wait—wasn’t this supposed to be a limited engagement?

Is charging in like that even allowed?

…Ah well.

A win’s a win.

I smiled faintly.

“You’ll be treated as a prisoner of war.”

“I’ll trust you.”

Even though he was Golgol’s enemy, Golgol himself was now safely on my side.

All variables resolved.

A perfect ending.

[So you really were serious about swordsmanship…]

Ancestor, you really are naïve.

That’s why you became my first undead.

Anyway, not a bad outcome.

* * *

After that, the battlefield was quickly settled.

“Father, he surrendered. Please treat him as a prisoner of war.”

“This man…?”

“Yes. A promise between knights.”

“….”

My father alternated his gaze between us before nodding.

“Close your eyes. I’ll subdue you.”

“…Understood.”

Crack!

My father smacked him across the head with his scabbard.

A perfectly physical suppression.

Thankfully, his skull seemed intact.

Then—

“Wait. I’ll apply a potion.”

He poured potion on my wounds and pulled out the sword.

The bleeding slowed immediately.

“Press it down tightly.”

He handed me more potion and a torn cloak before walking toward Lord Balt, who was surrounded by knights.

What happened after that…

‘…This is going smoothly.’

Just my father’s presence threw the enemy into chaos.

Lord Balt seized the moment.

“Charge!”

The enemy was overwhelmed.

Then—

“Father, is this really okay? I thought this was a limited battle.”

“I didn’t swing my sword.”

“…No.”

“Then it’s fine.”

Ah.

Flawless logic.

He raised his voice.

“Drop your weapons! Surrender and you’ll be treated as prisoners!”

Silence fell.

Both sides froze.

Then—

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! DROP THEM!”

The enemy soldiers panicked and threw down their weapons.

Even our own recruits did the same.

…Guys? Why you too?

Well. He was terrifying.

Eventually, my father approached Count Hardion.

“Count Hardion.”

“What is the meaning of this?”

“I merely ensured proper command. Care to draw your sword and test the outcome?”

“….”

Hardion’s gaze wavered before he shut his eyes.

“…I surrender.”

“Come. You’ll be treated properly.”

“Properly… as a prisoner?”

“If you wish to flee, try.”

“….”

That was the end.

“Then I trust your word.”

“Of course.”

The war was over.

And everyone knew who had won.

“Long live the young master!”

“Long live the second young master!”

Someone shouted.

Then everyone joined in.

Not a bad feeling.

If a system window existed, it might’ve looked like this:

[Spoils of War]

• Noble Prisoner: Count Hardion
• Knight Prisoners: 18 elite knights
• Others: ~600 soldiers and 10 mercenaries including Zeke

Then—

[W-Why are you collapsing?!]

I relaxed… and blacked out.

* * *

When I woke up again—

[A full week has passed.]

“…I slept a lot.”

I found my father soon after.

“The peace talks are going well.”

“Then…”

“We’ll receive ten thousand gold in reparations.”

“Ten… thousand?”

That was absurd.

In this world:

• 1 copper = 100 won
• 1 silver = 10,000 won
• 1 gold = 1,000,000 won

That meant—

10,000 gold = 10 billion won.

And most of it came from Count Hardion’s ransom.

No wonder nobles loved war.

Still, many had died.

Father spoke seriously.

“The money will be used for compensation to the soldiers and families of the fallen.”

“Of course.”

He looked genuinely touched.

That alone told me how rare such a decision was.

Then I asked—

“What about the mana stone mine?”

The real reason for the war.

“If it exists, another war could happen.”

My father nodded.

“He kept it secret. Didn’t want others to interfere.”

“So what now?”

“We’ll have him swear an oath under a priest.”

“…An oath?”

“Yes. A binding one. Break it, and the curse affects not only him but his family.”

“How much does that cost?”

“Five thousand gold.”

Half the compensation.

“But he’ll pay it.”

Of course he would.

Father had everything planned.

I never doubted him.

Still…

‘Ten thousand gold…’

After compensation, a fortune would remain.

Maybe…

Just maybe…

I could finally live that dream.

Drinking beer while watching the sunset.

But—

“By the way…”

“Yes?”

“I plan to develop the mana stone mine.”

“…What?”

Father.

Do you have any idea how expensive that is?

Even 10,000 gold might not be enough.

“I’ll explain once your brother returns. For now, go rest.”

A dangerous wind was blowing.

The wind of capitalism.

At this rate…

‘I might have to make my brother a baron.’

…Just kidding.

For now.