Chapter 112 - 38: [Ronov, the Ghost Knight, and the New World]

Chapter 112: Chapter 38: [Ronov, the Ghost Knight, and the New World]

The Cedar Knight Clan of Ronov in the north had watched over the northern borders since the founding of Ederic, fending off invasions from Demon Race exiles and Ice Sea Barbarian Race raiders. Intensely loyal to the Empire, they adhered strictly to Knight etiquette and governed the Cedar Knight Territory with impeccable order.

Even His Majesty Hains III, the current Emperor of the Empire, who had viciously slaughtered two-thirds of the old military aristocracy upon ascending the throne, had never once considered harming a single hair on the heads of the four great Knight Clans.

Ronov... Ghost Knight... someone with an intimate understanding of the Empire’s war machine development and military tactics...

Could it be that the ancestral spirits of the Northern Cedar Knight Clan had transformed into fiercely loyal Ghost Knights? Could they have killed the spies from the Supar Empire to protect the Ederic Empire left behind by the Emperor of the Founding Country?

Bert was startled by the third-rate novel plot his own mind had just conjured. Slowly standing up, he scratched his head and surveyed his surroundings for anything out of the ordinary.

The very idea was entirely absurd. If uttered at a social ball, it would be praised as a clever witticism, but in a formal setting, it would earn him a swift kick to the groin from every superior and colleague in the vicinity.

Some hack novelist could probably take the concept and churn out a bestselling romantic Knight novel—the kind young noblemen and ladies secretly read under their desks at the academy—titled something like *I, One of the Four Knights of the Emperor of the Founding Country, Have Returned as a Heroic Spirit*. Naturally, they would need to throw in a few like-minded Knight companions, and preferably a destitute noble girl...

This was just too bizarre!

He swallowed hard, momentarily unsure whether he should report this. Pacing back and forth through the wheat field, he searched frantically for any other clues.

The sergeants, who were standing at attention in a daze, watched their superior pace back and forth like a pendulum. Their blank gazes tracked him, swinging left to right in perfect unison.

CLINK. Bert’s military boot struck something hidden in the wheat.

He slowly bent down and retrieved a severed harvesting blade from among the scorched stalks. Judging by its shape, it belonged to the burned harvester nearby. Some kind of sharp weapon had sheared it cleanly off the blade Wheel.

The blade was coated in a thin layer of spectral, rusted copper—as if an Undead spirit were clinging to it—exuding a piercing, icy chill. He cautiously touched the frigid exterior. Suddenly, a realization struck him: the harvester was designed for unarmored and lightly armored targets. The Demonized corpse had been clad in the tough carapace of a Sand Dune Battle Scorpion. How could ordinary blades have possibly sliced it to pieces?

He hurried over to the blade Wheel of the harvester, only to find that none of the other blades bore that chilling, rusted copper coating. Or perhaps they once had, but the coating had vanished like a ghost.

"I’m not sure," he muttered. "I have no choice but to report this absurd theory—that a phantom, a ghost connected to the Northern Cedar Knight Clan, slaughtered the Demon Race agents and Demonized forces of the Supar Empire."

He shoved the freezing, copper-coated blade into his coat pocket, intending to present it as evidence during his report.

The sergeants exchanged glances, seriously suspecting their commanding officer had lost his mind. Perhaps they really should take turns kicking him in the crotch to snap him out of it.

The Dwarf ore transport cart that had been blocking the main road was finally repaired, restoring the flow of traffic. Merchant convoys swiftly flooded back onto the thoroughfare, rushing toward their respective destinations.

"What happened to that reckless kid who was hauling cotton to the Northern Knight Territory? I don’t see him anymore."

"He said someone bought all three of his carts outright. He probably turned back to pick up a different haul."

"Lucky bastard. It’s already late autumn. Who would’ve thought he’d find a buyer for that much cotton this far south in the Empire?"

The dozen or so freight wagons belonging to the Exile merchants CLATTERED loudly as they sped down the road, blending seamlessly into the human merchant convoys.

The scenery outside the carriage window blurred past. A gust of autumn wind blew a single golden leaf through the window, letting it land softly atop Samael’s helmet.

"Oh..." Samael shifted his head sluggishly, resembling some massive reptile clad in rusted copper Scale Armor.

The leaf had gotten wedged in the crevices of his visor. Although his physical body no longer required sleep, a lingering mental fatigue still plagued him. After enduring a grueling battle that had taxed both his mind and body, Samael temporarily slipped into a sluggish, drowsy state.

"You look like a giant, dozing lizard," Talia whispered near his helmet. Sitting beside him, she reached out affectionately and gently plucked the leaf from the top of his head.

She seemed much more lively now. For a long time, the threat of their pursuers had hung over them like a sword, robbing them of sleep day and night. Now that the hunters were finally dealt with, she was gradually showing the vibrant personality expected of a girl her age—perhaps this was how she had always been.

"Oh... thanks." Samael snapped out of his sluggish daze. "Is this what your personality is actually like?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing... it just feels a bit strange," Samael said, shaking his head. "You seemed a bit ruthless before."

"My father taught me to be humble and merciful. My mother taught me to be ruthless and brutal." Talia stared blankly at the leaf in her hand. One side was a vibrant, dry yellow; the other a pale, silvery white. "My father was killed because of his humility and mercy. Which version of myself do you think I should choose?"

"I don’t know... Wait a minute. I thought your father was from the Demon Race and your mother was human," Samael said, taken aback. "Did you mix that up?"