“Damn it, how, how could things get so tangled up!?”

“That’s why I said we should move to another place first! At this rate, we can’t even escape and we’ll all be cornered and killed!!”

“That’s right! If we had moved to the Duke’s territory or Nemea Castle before raising the army, it would have been fine!”

“Stop talking nonsense, you idiots! If we had shown such obvious movements, that cunning Empress wouldn’t have stayed still! This was the best way to catch them off guard! You all agreed, and now you’re blaming others!?”

The Council of Elders was cornered.

The attempt to subdue the Imperial Family had failed, and reports coming from all directions were uniformly bleak.

No, even those “bleak reports” stopped coming in altogether at some point.

There was a saying that no news was good news, but applying that adage to this situation was overly optimistic.

Watching the Council of Elders shouting at each other and arguing over who was to blame, the head of the Council wore a sardonic smile.

In their appearance, spitting saliva with bloodshot eyes, not a trace of the dignity of the Empire’s most prestigious family could be felt.

In the end, things like grace and nobility stem from composure, and it was unreasonable to expect such aspects from those driven to the utmost corner.

It was a theory that lacked some credibility given that the Duke they had confined didn’t show an unsightly appearance until the end, but the head of the Council completed his self-rationalization by neatly ignoring that part.

The Duke had to be a “foolish family head who ruined the bloodline with wrong judgments” rather than a “politician who emphasized compromise and balance”.

Only then could their uprising be a great decision for the bloodline rather than an ugly struggle to survive a power struggle.

“Everyone, be quiet. What good is there in fighting among ourselves now?”

“Council Head.”

“We have Hilda, and Werner. They will never be able to come inside here.”

In Werner’s case, he was forced to fight by taking the family hostage, but the head of the Council didn’t bother to mention that part.

It would become a huge concern later, but it was all the same if they couldn’t get through this moment, anyway.

“B-but even if we wait here like this, the situation will only worsen. We need some other plan.”

“We have one.”

After saying that, the head of the Council looked at the floor.

A secret among secrets known only to the family head or equivalent core figures, treated as top secret even within the Ducal family.

The true last words that only his own children heard, separate from the Lion Duke’s will known to the outside world.

“—When a red-armored angel descends to the ground someday, open my coffin. So that I may greet her.”

The descendants didn’t know exactly what the true meaning of those words was.

What they found out by hiring skilled and tight-lipped mages was only that some ominous magic was cast on the coffin where the Lion Duke slept, and that the nature of that magic was close to resurrection.

Due to this vague and ambiguous tradition, it wasn’t something that could be considered a core plan, but now they had to grasp at straws.

If by any chance the Lion Duke truly resurrected completely, he could easily break through the current crisis, and even if it was a temporary and incomplete resurrection, it could at least serve as a turning point to change the current tangled flow.

Of course, this meant completely ignoring the Lion Duke’s own will, but… wasn’t this all for the sake of the family?

The head of the Council believed without doubt that he would understand to this extent for the sake of his descendants.

***

There was a saying that in a country of one-eyed people, those with two eyes were abnormal.

Among “bloodline members mostly possessing outstanding martial talent”, “ordinary talent” was in itself a rarity.

Unfortunately, in a negative sense, Werner von Lennart was exactly such an existence.

When his peers were beating down beasts with their innate physical abilities as if toying with them, he had to run for his life from the same beasts.

When his peers were learning the basics of over a dozen weapons and moving on to advanced courses with one of them, Werner couldn’t even fully master the basics of just one, the club technique.

Physical ability, resistance to diseases, quick recovery, innate sense for martial arts—qualities that bloodline members were born with at least one of, and in excellent cases all of them, were not granted to him.

Moreover, Werner’s era was an era of war.

Before the Iron Blood Emperor’s ascension, it was an era riddled with blood washing blood and grudges covering grudges.

The Lion Duke’s bloodline had the duty of protecting the Empire, and to fulfill that duty, the young people of the bloodline had to burn their lives.

In this context, Werner kept fighting and somehow survived.

Since he had no talent for handling flashy and technical swordsmanship, he grasped the club, the only thing he was average at.

Being constantly attacked and wounded, he engraved techniques to protect his body into his instincts.

Fighting, fighting, fighting, and even more fighting.

While seniors who looked at him with pity, peers who were noted as geniuses, and juniors who advanced much faster than him all died off, he continued to survive.

By the time he became an old man who should normally have been buried if he were an ordinary person.

Werner was somehow no longer referred to as dullard, but by a different title altogether.

The Nemean Lion, with skin that could not be brought down by any attack.

The Empire’s strongest warrior, standing higher than any martial artist on the continent.

Although the era of war ended and his fame was treated as old-fashioned by young people, the skills and experience he had built up layer by layer did not disappear.

Clang!

The moment the Tin Knight’s sword cut Werner’s shoulder, a sharp metallic sound rang out.

It wasn’t because he was wearing special armor.

He merely concentrated mana on the point of attack to reduce damage.

This technique, which could be considered basic for warriors who handled mana, was simply the result of refining it to the extreme.

The Tin Knight tried to follow up with the next attack immediately, but Werner swung his club with all his might.

Stubborn and crude. But the trajectory drawn by the club, which was extremely practical, collided with the Tin Knight’s shield.

Clang!

The Tin Knight’s incredibly heavy body was thrown back as if it were an empty can.

It was a truly terrifying impact.

The club, just slightly larger than a baseball bat, had power comparable to a huge wrecking ball used at construction sites in terms of force.

Power that would naturally tear apart a human body like a water balloon and easily turn even decent metal into scrap.

Above all, what was noteworthy was that his posture didn’t waver at all even while receiving attacks.

The sight of him stubbornly swinging his club while taking any attack the Tin Knight made head-on was incredibly fierce.

Faced with this terrifying offensive where a single direct hit seemed like it would be an instant knockout, the Tin Knight—

[The ‘Tin Knight’ marvels that this is a real-life version of super armor!]

—was sincerely, seriously, and thoroughly enjoying himself.

If it were just high defense, Mombi, whom he faced in the north, was the same, but honestly, her combat technique itself wasn’t that outstanding.

In contrast, the club Werner wielded, though crude, was packed full of martial arts built up through countless experiences.

Moreover, while at first glance it seemed like he was recklessly charging in relying on his sturdy defense, in reality, he was subtly adjusting his stride and posture to minimize unnecessary damage.

From the Tin Knight’s perspective, this was truly a delightful opponent.

The firepower needed to penetrate that golden defense, the mana needed, the mana that needed to be supplied remotely to fill that need, the joy of weighing supply and consumption, in finding the weak points of his opponent, and conquering a powerful boss one by one was truly exhilarating.

On the other hand, Werner had to acknowledge his misjudgment.

“…More than I thought.”

From their first meeting, Werner had realized that the Tin Knight was a monster.

This was quite an extraordinary thing.

It was extremely rare for someone to successfully grasp the Tin Knight’s strength without prior knowledge.

This was because the Tin Knight was a magic doll.

It was impossible for others to recognize the Tin Knight’s strength through the state of a trained body, or to guess from the size of mana contained within.

Moreover, characteristics that unconsciously seeped out from posture or attitude in humans were not revealed at all through the doll’s body.

If anything, one of the few clues was the habit-like thing emanating from each action, but in the Tin Knight’s case, even this was difficult to discern from an external perspective due to the peculiarity of his soul.

Therefore, Werner’s realization of the Tin Knight’s strength was closer to an intuition that suddenly popped up rather than a logical reason.

An intuition that only those who had overcome countless life-and-death situations, too many to count, could obtain.

But even Werner didn’t think—no, couldn’t think—that he was “this much of a monster”.

The Tin Knight’s skills remained at such a transcendental level.

…I never thought the day would come when I’d be overwhelmed by combat experience. It’s not just a matter of decades. Even if one pours an entire human life into the battlefield, it wouldn’t match the experience this knight has built up.

Zero.

That was the number of effective hits Werner had landed on the Tin Knight since the battle began.

In other words, he hadn’t even succeeded in landing a single proper strike.

One might say that the Tin Knight also hadn’t succeeded in landing an effective hit on Werner, but there was an enormous gap between “being fine even when hit” and “not giving even one chance when a single mistake would mean the end”.

Moreover, the Tin Knight was pressuring Werner while improving his swordsmanship, shield techniques, and footwork in real-time.

The accumulated techniques are those of a stubborn knight, but their use is specialized in observing the enemy, finding weaknesses, and cutting off their lifeline like a hunter.

Werner sensed defeat.

Originally, he had intended to fight just enough to deceive the eyes of the Council of Elders and then step aside, but it seemed like the opponent would surpass him fair and square without needing to use such petty tricks.

Moreover, judging from the ominous mana enveloping the mansion surroundings and the gradually subsiding commotion, it seemed unlikely that the Council of Elders would be calmly observing Werner’s actions and threatening hostages.

After smashing various parts of the room during the battle to eliminate any possible means of surveillance, Werner firmly decided it was time to withdraw.

“I pay my respects to your skills, you—no, Honorable Sir”

Bang! Crack!

“It’s hard to gauge what journey you’ve walked, and while I’d like to settle this to the end under normal circumstances, the situation is urgent now.”

Clang clang clang! Clang!

“Let’s put away our swords and catch the real culpri—“

Clang clang clang clang clang clang clang clang!

“…”

What’s this, why isn’t he stopping?

He thought for a moment that perhaps words themselves weren’t getting through, but when they first met and when the battle started this time, the Tin Knight had clearly shown behavior indicating he could communicate, even if he didn’t speak directly.

Then why?

[The ‘Tin Knight’ claims that while the royal brat is his pupil’s share, this one is his!]

[The ‘Tin Knight’ argues passionately that what he wants to skip is dialogue boxes, not boss battles!]

[The ‘Tin Knight’ asserts that it’s clearer to just knock everyone down rather than worrying about whether it’s the opponent’s strategy or tactic, fake surrender or real surrender!]

[The ‘Tin Knight’ says that lion-like protective aura is cool so he needs to teach it to his pupil!]

[The ‘Tin Knight’ says you can’t leave until the skill analysis is complete!]

The Tin Knight’s will-o’-wisp-like eyes rolled wildly.

The Nemean Lion shuddered and broke out in a cold sweat.

He was someone who didn’t flinch even on battlefields where blood flowed and flesh flew, but the madness before his eyes seemed to be of a somewhat different kind.

This was generally the impression held by those who got entangled with the Tin Knight.

***

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