CHAPTER 254: CHAPTER 253: THE WEIGHT OF A KNIGHT’S PATH

Memories from the Knight surged through Lumberling’s mind, rigid drills under the burning sun, endless hours of holding the shield until his arms trembled, the relentless drive to stand unyielding against any foe. It wasn’t just training, it was a lifetime of obsession.

Stonewall Guard.

The insight settled in his core. It wasn’t simply an active defense skill, at higher stages, it reinforced the body itself, hardening muscle and bone, granting endurance that lingered even without mana. A true Knight’s path.

Lumberling’s lips curved slightly. A shield that grows with its bearer... useful. Very useful. He would need time, a shield, and practice, but one day, he would push this skill beyond its beginnings, all the way to the True Knight’s level.

"Lumberling."

A soft, trembling voice broke his focus.

He turned and found Liraeth, her eyes filled with worry. Sweat clung to her, yet her concern wasn’t for herself.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her tone hesitant but earnest.

Lumberling chuckled and flashed a grin.

"Don’t worry. Everything’s fine," he said, though his bent spear at his feet and the blood still dripping from his sword told another story.

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though she didn’t look convinced.

A groan snapped their attention away.

The Baron lay sprawled in the dirt, his arms severed, blood pooling beneath him. His once-proud figure was reduced to a trembling, pitiful mess. Yet his eyes still burned with venom.

"You... you bastard!" he spat, voice hoarse with pain. "You’ll pay for this! The Inquisitors will come for you. They’ll hunt you down, skin you alive, and drag your soul into the pyres!"

Lumberling’s gaze cooled. He didn’t even need to speak before Liraeth stepped forward, her voice sharp as a blade.

"Says the one who came to kill us first." She snorted, crossing her arms.

The Baron’s eyes flickered, rage mixing with fear.

Lumberling glanced at Liraeth, his voice calm, almost curious.

"Will they find out?"

She pressed her lips together. "I’m not sure."

Torvald wheezed, seizing the opening. Blood bubbled at his lips as he forced the words out.

"They will. No one escapes their judgment. Once the Inquisitors dig into this, you’re finished, both of you." His eyes gleamed with spite, as if his words alone could wound them.

Lumberling tilted his head, unimpressed. "Sure, sure... I’m scared already."

Liraeth stepped in, her tone sharper, grounded in reason rather than fear.

"The Crimson Tribunal doesn’t move for petty feuds. Unless it touches the empire itself, they won’t care. Your death here could easily be blamed on the invaders. No one will question it."

Torvald’s face twisted. He clawed weakly at the dirt, his voice rising with panic.

"No. No! You’re wrong. You don’t understand, my family will avenge me! The Tribunal, they’ll burn you alive!"

His desperation rang hollow. Lumberling saw through it. He walked forward, unhurried, until his shadow fell across the broken Baron.

Torvald’s words faltered when he saw the look in Lumberling’s eyes, cold and unshaken by threats of nobles or inquisitors.

"This ends here," Lumberling said simply.

The Baron’s face contorted in panic, voice breaking into a final, desperate scream.

"NO! YOU CAN’T..."

He raised his blade, and with one clean stroke, silence fell. The Baron’s last breath rattled away, leaving only stillness and the stench of blood.

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Liraeth’s voice broke the quiet, softer than before.

"I’m sorry... I dragged you into this. I was a burden, wasn’t I?" She lowered her gaze, her hands fidgeting slightly. The confidence she carried most of the time gave way, revealing the girl beneath the bravado.

Lumberling studied her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. She’s like this sometimes, bold, sharp-tongued, but then vulnerable when she lets the mask slip. Cute, in its own way.

He didn’t mind it at all. In fact, he found it refreshing.

"Remember the promise I made you?" Lumberling asked suddenly, his tone gentle but steady.

Her brows furrowed. "Promise? Which one?"

"That I would help you walk the path of a Knight," he said, his eyes locking on hers. "Let’s begin now."

She blinked, taken aback. "Now? What do you mean? Are you talking about training... here?" Her gaze flicked nervously toward the bloody field, scattered with groaning enemies.

Lumberling gave a faint smile. "Not training. Something else. Come with me."

Before she could protest, he took her hand and guided her toward the fallen Knights, the ones he had spared by severing limbs instead of ending their lives. Their pained groans filled the silence between them.

Liraeth hesitated. "What are you planning?"

"I’m going to direct the essence of these Knights into you."

Her eyes widened. "Essence?"

He nodded, his tone matter-of-fact, as if explaining the simplest thing. "I’ll explain in detail later. For now, just know this, essence is vital to every being. What I’m about to do is... unusual. You’ll gain not only strength, but fragments of their memories, and maybe some of their skills. Absorb it."

Her lips parted in disbelief. "That sounds... impossible. How do I even absorb something like that?"

"You’ll understand once it happens," Lumberling said firmly. His grip on her hand tightened, steady and reassuring. "Trust me. Don’t fight it, just stay still and let it flow."

Liraeth swallowed hard. Her confusion was clear, but beneath it lay something else, a quiet resolve. She nodded once, slowly. "Alright... I’ll trust you."

She stood before him, tense but unmoving, the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes tempered by the faith she placed in him. For the first time, she was handing her future, and perhaps her life, into someone else’s hands.

And Lumberling accepted that weight without hesitation.

He moved to the nearest Knight Page, whose ragged breaths rattled in his chest. Without a word, Lumberling ended his suffering with a swift thrust to the heart. The man stilled, eyes going dim.

Then something unnatural stirred.

From Lumberling’s chest, faint violet threads shimmered into existence, weaving outward like living veins of light. They latched onto the corpse, sinking into its chest, drawing out an unseen energy.

The essence surged along the threads, flowing back into Lumberling, but then, with a subtle gesture of his hand, another thread extended from him, bridging toward Liraeth.