Chapter 29
Insight (4)
“By the way, are you okay? You must be in pain too. Or is it because you already died in ancient times that you don’t feel pain?”
Following Ian’s gaze, the Undead Knight finally lowered his head and noticed the silver sword deeply lodged in its abdomen.
“You think I took those blows for nothing? It was all because of this.”
At some point, Ian had slipped the silver sword into the knight’s body like a phantom in the middle of being pummeled.
The thorny armor writhing like a living serpent burned away to ash, unable to withstand the force imbued into the silver sword.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Staggering backward with heavy footsteps, the Undead Knight’s broad back revealed Ian’s cold figure behind it.
“Disappear.”
With no hesitation, Ian poured force into Blanzor’s spirit-infused dagger and slashed through the knight’s neck from behind.
The headless body shuddered violently before cracking apart and detonating in a powerful explosion.
Sssshhhhhh!
Ian’s body was pushed backward by the fierce wind unleashed by the blast.
Even as he slid, Ian did not close his eyes—he glared intently, watching the knight’s form vanish completely.
‘It’s over.’
Only after confirming the Undead Knight’s end did Ian let himself collapse onto the ground with a relieved expression.
Jagged rocks jabbed into his back, but instead of pain, he felt refreshing satisfaction and exhilaration.
“There won’t be more of those things, right?”
As his eyes slowly grew heavy, Ian asked. Blanzor swept the surroundings once before shaking his head.
—Fortunately, it seems there are no more.
The thick fog blanketing the underground dungeon village was lifting.
“Good.”
—Well done. Clumsy, but the Force Sword was impressive.
“Fighting for someone else feels like such a burden… If I lose… everyone dies.”
Blanzor quietly watched Ian, who was mumbling dreamily as consciousness slipped away.
They said he once fought invaders on Earth to avenge his family, but seeing him now… it didn’t seem like vengeance was the only reason.
—Close your eyes now. Rest your body.
“Yeah… I should.”
Using Force naturally came with fatigue, just like warping.
After countless warps, incomplete Force use, and enduring the Undead Knight’s brutal punches, Ian finally lost hold of his consciousness.
Music (1)
Ian’s awareness slowly returned with the sting in his shoulder.
The smell of smoke filled the air, born from burning trees under the blood-red moonlight.
‘I’m still in the dungeon.’
Turning his head, he saw many people gathered around him.
There was the stalwart Rondo, the sharp-eyed Harmond, several soldiers, and Nekamo, who was stitching his shoulder wound.
The sharp stinging came from Nekamo’s needle.
“My lord! You’ve awakened!”
He could feel their joy.
Lying on a cloth spread over the ground, Ian groaned as he sat up.
His stomach still throbbed as though it had been ripped apart by the Undead Knight’s blows.
“Rondo, report the soldiers’ casualties.”
Even upon waking, Ian’s first concern was the soldiers.
“Fifteen badly injured, thirty-seven with minor wounds. The mist worsened the damage.”
“And the dead?”
“Fortunately, none. Even the severely wounded are not in mortal danger. Had the fog lifted any later, the soldiers might have fought each other and losses would’ve been far worse.”
Rondo gave his report carefully, watching Ian’s face.
He didn’t know the fog’s cause, nor about the Undead Knight.
All he knew was that after something fell from the sky, they had been thrust into crisis—and it was their lord who resolved it.
After all, only the lord had been found apart from the soldiers, deep within the village.
“Nearly half injured… A heavy price.”
Ian muttered darkly, then turned his gaze on Nekamo, who was crouched by his side, stitching his wound.
Perhaps sensing his lord’s eyes, Nekamo’s hands trembled uncontrollably.
Because they had followed him into the dungeon in silence, the soldiers were injured and their lord wounded.
It was natural to fear repercussions.
“Nekamo.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Startled, Nekamo answered quickly, his face tense.
“You’re alive after all. I thought you’d died.”
“Thank you for saving me, my lord!”
Nekamo fell prostrate, every word cautious.
Ian stared down at his bowed back with a somewhat cold gaze before turning away.
Linda, having heard her lord had awakened, walked in among the soldiers.
Her face was drenched with sweat from tending to the wounded, her hands stained with blood.
“This is all my fault, my lord. Please punish me.”
Linda never imagined things would escalate so far.
If Ian hadn’t intervened, not only she but her father would have died.
Gratitude and guilt tangled together—she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.
Ian watched her kneeling by her father’s side, then accepted a water flask from Rondo to wet his throat.
“Josh told me. You entered the dungeon seeking clues to a miraculous cure. Did you find anything?”
“At the entrance, in a stone chamber, we discovered an old book written in ancient script. Some parts are damaged, and it requires interpretation, but I believe it’s worth researching.”
Nekamo answered cautiously, gauging his lord’s reaction.
“Hm. It must be studied, then. We’ll decide on your punishment afterward, depending on the results.”
“Pardon?”
Nekamo’s expression faltered.
Turning that damaged book into a cure capable of healing rotting limbs was like chasing a dream.
He himself had only entered for treasure—gold, gems, riches. Research held no appeal to him.
“If given time, I’ll create the cure. It will bring glory to your name, my lord.”
His daughter spoke recklessly, leaving Nekamo bewildered.
“Bring glory to my name?”
Ian’s lips curled with a faint smile, and Nekamo, desperate to live, hastily added:
“Yes, my lord. If we succeed, the cure shall bear your family’s name and spread its honor far and wide.”
“Such lofty words… Embarrassing. Still, I’ll expect results. Fail me, and your punishment will double.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Nekamo and Linda bowed deeply.
“My lord, let us finish treating your shoulder. The wound is not yet closed.”
Rondo gestured toward Ian’s stitched shoulder.
“It’s not finished yet?”
Ian frowned, noticing the needle and thread still half-buried in his skin.
“Nekamo, why isn’t it done?”
Startled by Ian’s glare, Nekamo jumped to his feet.
“My lord, forgive me, but my fingers cramped suddenly. Linda, tend to the lord at once.”
Passing the duty to his daughter, Nekamo hurried off toward the other wounded.
Linda glanced briefly at his retreating back, then quietly approached Ian to continue the treatment.
“Fortunately, the blade didn’t go too deep. If it had, you might not be able to use your arm for some time.”
“My reflexes are sharp.”
Ian smirked at his own boast, but noticing Linda’s disheveled hair, he cleared his throat awkwardly.
“You weren’t hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“Death comes in an instant. If you want to live, be careful.”
At his calm warning, Linda paused her stitching briefly, then continued.
“I will, my lord.”
“Good.”
After she finished sewing, she applied medicine to prevent infection, then whispered softly:
“My lord, did you know? The soldiers are astonished.”
“By what?”
“That you fought at the front with a sword. That you saved their lives many times. They hold you in the highest regard now.”
Her voice brimmed with pride, as though the praise were her own.
Ian, too, didn’t seem to mind the compliments—his eyes crinkled with a faint smile.
“But when did you learn the sword? You were ill for so long.”
“Well, that’s…”
Just as he was about to answer, Ian looked back—Rondo and Harmond were leaning in, eavesdropping.
They too were curious about their lord’s transformation.
“What are you two doing?”
“N-nothing, my lord!”
Flustered, they quickly looked away. Ian chuckled and rose to his feet.
“We’ve conquered the dungeon. Now, let’s find the treasure. Can’t leave empty-handed, can we?”
But it was empty-handed.
Even after scouring a village large enough for hundreds to live in, they found not a speck of gold. Not even a single clue toward a cure.
“A loss, then. A loss.”
Disappointed, Ian muttered, gazing at the dungeon’s end.
The dungeon ended in a vast starry sky.
Above his head and at the edges of the underground village stretched nothing but stars, as if the whole place were wrapped in an endless night.
‘Who was it again… the one who said Earth was flat? This looks just like that.’
It felt as though the ground ended and outer space began.
“My lord, preparations to return to the castle are complete.”
Staring at the boundless starry void for a moment, Ian finally clapped his hands.
“Good. Let’s go, Rondo. Everyone’s alive—that’s enough.”
Blue skies and bright sunlight. The weather was so warm that lying on the grass might lull one into sleep.
“My lord, the treasurer is waiting in your office.”
“Tell him to wait a bit.”
Ian reclined in the southern garden of the lord’s manor, basking in the pleasant drowsiness.
Sweat clung to him, the result of hard training in the underground training hall.
Though he had taken it easy for a few days due to his shoulder wound, he was back to spending mornings learning to read from Linda and the rest of the day sweating through sword training.
“I don’t feel like moving. Rondo, bring him here.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Rondo sent for the treasurer, who was waiting in the office.
Ian, still lying on the grass with eyes closed, heard approaching footsteps.
“My lord.”
Opening his eyes slowly, Ian saw the treasurer’s face loom close—still covered in bruises and cuts.
It had been some time since Ian had struck him, yet the injuries remained vivid, proof of how harsh the beating had been.
Noticing Ian’s gaze fixed on his face, the treasurer turned away uncomfortably.
‘Damn demon. You should’ve died in that dungeon instead of coming back alive.’
Ever since Ian’s victory in the dungeon, leading soldiers to triumph, the treasurer had spent sleepless nights seething.
Day by day, the lord’s authority grew stronger, harder to challenge.
“Forgive me for receiving you like this. The sunlight is pleasant, you see.”
“Not at all, my lord.”
The treasurer answered politely, though his thoughts boiled with resentment.
“Your face—was it from that carriage accident? You must be more careful. Such a pity.”
The treasurer had told everyone his injuries came from a carriage mishap, hiding the truth of being beaten by his lord.
