Lucian gripped Torrent's reins tightly in his left hand, while his right swung his straight sword in a graceful arc.
The first soldier to charge at him was immediately beheaded—his body dropping to its knees before crumpling to the blood-soaked ground.
"Now this is fighting!" Lucian shouted gleefully.
Torrent's speed was blistering. Lucian could feel the air whipping across his face, yet not a single bump in the gallop disturbed the precision of his strikes. Using the spectral steed's remarkable agility, he picked off the foot soldiers one by one, each sword swing drawing blood.
Raise a greatshield? Lucian would cut down from above, driving his blade into the helmet.
Level a spear? He'd maneuver around and sever the shaft.
Surrounded? He'd leap free of the fray and come crashing back in like a whirlwind.
Within minutes, the area before the gate transformed into a hellish battlefield—a wasteland of blood, torn limbs, and mangled bodies.
Only one enemy remained.
This final opponent was unlike the others. He wore a heavy, iron helm with only a narrow cross-shaped slit for vision and a plume of gray streaming from its crest. His armor, unlike the light gear of the fallen soldiers, was fortified—layered with dense pauldrons and bracers. A massive metal crest shaped like a double-headed battle axe was affixed to his left breast.
Lucian knew immediately: this was no mere soldier. This was a knight—formally anointed, a cut above the rank and file.
In the Lands Between, feudal rank and martial prowess were one and the same. Even though knights were the lowest tier among nobles, their strength was formidable.
Throughout the earlier battle, every time Lucian had attempted to attack, the knight's massive shield would subtly shift to block him. And on several occasions, the knight's spear came dangerously close to skewering him—if not for Torrent's sharp instincts and blistering speed.
Lucian realized horseback combat wouldn't crack this opponent's defense. He tugged on the reins, pulled back, and dismounted, signaling Torrent to retreat.
"Come on, then. Let's see what you've got, knight."
He drew the two Ornamental Straight Sword he'd taken from the Grafted Scion. Even earlier in battle, he had sensed their thirst for blood. The moment he gripped their hilts, combat instincts not his own surged into his mind—memories and techniques from the previous owner etched into the steel.
As long as one's stats aligned, weapons in this world shared their lineage.
Lucian's recent boost in Dexterity had unlocked their full potential.
[Ornamental Straight Sword ]
Attack:
Phy 101
Mag 0
Fire 0
Ligt 0
Holy 0
Crit 110
Requires:
Str : 10
Dex : 14
The knight, a sworn of Godrick, lowered his head and charged, spear extended.
Lucian calmly crossed his twin blades in front of him, focusing.
A strange energy welled up from deep within him and flowed into the swords. A golden rune, shaped like the Erdtree, shimmered faintly over his body as the blades began to glow with sacred light.
Weapon Skill: Golden Tempering
[Cross the two swords to grant their attacks holy essence.
While in effect, strong attack performs a dual-wielding combo attack.]
This wasn't just visual flair—it imbued the blades with holy power, enhancing their damage.
As the knight neared, shield raised and spear poised, he looked like a siege engine made flesh.
Right foot lunging, torso twisting—he thrust the spear forward with tremendous momentum, channeling every ounce of power into the blow.
Lucian had anticipated it. He dropped low, letting the spear pass harmlessly above him.
But the knight's maneuver had opened a weakness: the turn of his body had momentarily shifted his shield, leaving his right flank exposed.
Lucian lunged forward.
Twin blades drove through the chainmail beneath the knight's tabard—piercing flesh. Blood sprayed across the dirt.
But the counter came fast.
The knight swung his spear downward like a guillotine.
Lucian rolled left, narrowly dodging the brunt of it—only to be smashed across the face by the full weight of the knight's shield.
He tumbled to the ground, dazed.
Damn it.
He didn't wait to recover. He rolled again, and not a second too soon—a spear embedded itself in the very spot where his head had just been.
Bracing off the ground with one hand, he slashed with the other. His sword scraped across the knight's helm—just a dent, but enough to interrupt the next strike.
The holy energy on his blade buzzed inside the knight's helmet, disorienting him.
The knight backed off, staggering slightly, raising his shield and spear defensively.
Lucian wiped the blood from his nose, raising his swords once more.
Despite his clumsy landing, he'd emerged on top.
He'd taken only a bruising hit; the knight, meanwhile, had been wounded twice in the body and once in the head.
So this is a knight, Lucian thought. Disciplined, quick to adapt, good at reading gaps. But still...
He surged forward, this time pressing the attack.
The knight dropped into a defensive stance, shield raised, one leg forward to brace. His weight shifted perfectly, absorbing the fury of Lucian's rapid dual-sword barrage.
Blow after blow clanged against the shield, overwhelming him with sheer tempo.
But then—an opening.
Lucian's rhythm faltered for just an instant.
The knight seized the chance. He slammed the shield aside, lunged forward, and thrust with every ounce of strength.
For honor and glory! his body seemed to scream.
Lucian smiled.
He dropped his left-hand sword, letting it fall to the dirt.
Then he wrapped his arm around the incoming spear, ignoring the pain as the point slashed his chainmail and bit into flesh.
With his now-free hand, he reached up the shaft—grabbing the knight's gauntlet.
"Got you."
Lucian slammed his boot down onto the knight's front foot, locking him in place. With a violent pull, he dragged the knight forward, yanking him from behind the safety of his shield.
The knight stumbled, off balance, falling backward.
Lucian plunged his right-hand sword down through the visor slit.
The knight convulsed once. Then again. And went still.
Lucian wrenched the glowing blade from the ruined helm, blood dripping from its hallowed edge. It shone like a divine relic pulled from the stone by a chosen king—only the blood made the scene far more grim than majestic.
He flicked the gore from the blade with a practiced motion and exhaled.
All had gone as planned.
The knight had fallen for the bait: a feigned misstep, just obvious enough to lure him in.
Lucian had counted on the overcommitment that came with spear thrusts—especially when pivoting from defense to offense. One leg had to be forward, the whole body had to lean in, exposing balance and stance.
Once that foot was trapped, the rest was inevitable.
And with that, every enemy at the checkpoint lay dead.
Time to loot.