The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon

Chapter 315: The Empire’s Blade (3)

Three years passed.

Nineteen-year-old Leandro gently stroked the horse at his side. ”Twenty-seven years left, then.”

The sound it made resembled a soft miyu, almost like a name. Even when chewing the finest feed money could buy, the animal made the same sound. The horse’s mane flicked upward and settled again as though pleased by his touch.

”Live thirty years. That’s all I ask.”

Miyu blinked back at him. They were each other’s only true companion. Now three years old, Miyu could outrun even its own shadow across the wilderness. Anyone who witnessed the horse’s gallop could do nothing but gape in awe. Even in regions famed for their steeds, Leandro had never seen another keep pace.

Raised alongside monster hunts from the day of birth, Miyu could easily scale mountains. Quick-witted and powerful, Miyu had trampled horse thieves half to death and struck down lesser monsters with a single forehoof. By nineteen, Leandro too was nearing the height of his ability.

In his younger days, he had lived as a bounty hunter, but once he had earned enough to afford fine feed and decent inns, he stopped caring about collecting bounties. He often slew monsters and left the fallen corpses, never bothering with claims.

Miyu suddenly snapped its eyes wide. The mountain air thickened with murderous intent.

”They’re close. It’ll be easier this way, so come to me first.”

The Blood-Eye appeared. It was a monstrous rat that lurked in shadows, its eyes glowing crimson as it hunted men. Over a hundred travelers had already died to it.

Leandro rose and set his hand on his sword. When the beast lunged forward, his blade flashed. Three years ago, when he had slain the hippogriff, a single stroke had left its leg in three pieces. Now, in that same span, three cuts split the man-eating rat into twelve.

Leandro easily slew the creature that had devoured four knights. For the first time, he wondered just how far his strength truly reached. Nine and a half years he had waited. In six more months, the Garbera vines that killed his mother would rise again.

Am I skilled enough to kill it?

He wanted certainty. Leandro recalled realizing that humans were no match for him when he singlehandedly crushed a fortified bandit stronghold. Even their ballistae, mounted for defense, had not stopped him.

Mon... monster...

The bandit chief’s eyes, wide with terror, lingered in his mind. A man rumored to crush skulls with bare hands and drink blood was reduced to a shuddering wretch before dying. Even those he freed, the hostages, had flinched, staring at the corpses strewn about. They dropped their gazes, turning away so as not to meet his own.

Faces twisted in fear and disgust haunted Leandro. The more he remembered them, the more it unsettled him. For two years after that, he kept away from people, hunting only monsters. Now, he wanted to measure himself more objectively.

Am I truly that strong? Strong enough to make men tremble? Or do all trained swordsmen stand at such a level?

Before stepping again into the eastern mountains where his mother had fallen, Leandro resolved to test himself against men. Knights, renowned and disciplined, would be a worthy measure. He turned Miyu toward the west, where the most famous order awaited: Fangs of the Sun.

They traveled to Tiruchirappalli, a desert city blazing beneath the sun.

Leandro approached its sculpted gates. Two burly guards blocked his path. They sized him up, and one of the men thrust out a hand.

”Applicant? Let’s see a letter of recommendation or proof of service.”

Leandro shook his head since he had none. Ever since he was seventeen, he had never checked whether there was a bounty on his prey. His human ties extended only to innkeepers across the Empire, or a few strangers he had saved in passing.

”I have no such thing. Nor do I intend to join,” Leandro replied.

”Huh? Then why...?”

”I heard the Fangs of the Sun are the strongest in the West. I came to test my skill.”

The first guard gawked at him. ”This one’s mad. Sun’s baked his brain. He walks up bold as he pleases. I thought you were someone important.”

As if humoring a child, the larger guard sighed, ”Boy, do you know which orders are considered the Empire’s best?”

”Silver Guardians, Helms of Spring, Dawn Lancers, Blue Lion Knights. That’s what my mother once told me.”

”And in the West, it is here.” The guard stroked his chin with a smirk. ”Hah. Our knights don’t enter the capital’s tournaments. They’re too busy with real battles. But if they did, you’d immediately see that we are the best. And you dare challenge us? Absurd.”

Leandro gave a quiet nod. ”Good.”

”What? What’s good?”

”If you are the best, then I won’t need to trouble the capital.”

”Where the hell did this lunatic crawl out from?”

Leandro brushed aside the guard’s words, stepped past, and beat down the knights training inside, all without drawing his sword.

”Is this all?”

The knights were certainly well-drilled, but they were no harder than monsters. Thirst rose in him as he imagined if they had only been stronger. He couldn’t stop at one. He licked his dry lips.

On the road to the capital, he destroyed three more orders in the same manner. That was when the pursuit began. Shamed by a wanderer not yet twenty, the humiliated orders paid dearly for professionals to kill him. However, Leandro was already accustomed to stealth, honed by years of monster hunting. Even so, these assassins were formidable. They were far more exhilarating than fighting knights.

Arrows rained at all hours. Traps lined his path. Invisible wires strung across roads, tied to hidden bombs. As Leandro endured pursuit, his second domain steadily expanded, as if a third eye had opened within him. He could sweep the terrain in every direction, detecting even the subtlest changes. Any arrow that entered that domain, no matter the angle or speed, was laid bare to him.

Two weeks after the chase began, he turned the hunt around. Now, the assassins were prey.

Slice.

”Delicious.”

Blood seeped from the steak he was cutting. The inn was famous for its cooking, but Leandro had never stayed at the inn before; the road had taken him elsewhere when he’d passed through the west. Now, at last, he indulged in proper rest. When he finished his meal, the head chef himself brought out dessert: a small round cake, spongy and sweet to the eye.

”How was the food, sir?” the chef asked.

”Excellent,” Leandro replied.

”You’ll want to hold this with both hands.”

The white-haired chef lifted the cake from beneath and demonstrated the action. Then he grasped the ring hidden under it, a knife disguised as part of the dish, and aimed it straight for Leandro’s throat. There was no sound, no wasted motion. His expression was still that of a dutiful cook, watching his guest’s reaction. At less than twenty centimeters away, there was no room to twist to the side.

Thunk!

In that instant, Leandro caught the blade on his fork, twisted it, and slammed it into the table.

The strike had failed. The chef shut his eyes. On his calloused hand were layers that had nothing to do with cooking.

”There’s nothing I can do...”

”You seemed talented at cooking. You should have pursued that.”

”If I had known a youth like you would appear... I’d never have started this accursed trade.”

”The steak truly was good.”

Leandro let the fork fall, drew the knife from the table, and cut. The old man’s final sight was filled with a brilliant flash of blue. Had he poisoned the dish, Leandro would have noticed at once. Since the chef had granted him a moment of peace at the table, that alone earned a swift and clean death. Thus vanished the assassin known as Phantom Mirage.

With the last of them slain, Leandro entered the capital without hesitation. His aim was clear: the Blue Lion Knights. It was the name his mother had praised since his childhood, a storied order among the Empire’s blades.

Finding their headquarters was simple. White marble lions guarded the gate, their stone manes proud beneath golden shields and swords mounted along the high walls. The sheer grandeur of the building alone was a testament to their renown.

Leandro walked toward the main gate. This time, there was no testing, no half-hearted challenges. The guards barred him outright. They did not even bother with the formalities of letters or credentials. Elsewhere, watchmen had let him through, if only to see him beaten, but not here. At the first step forward, ten men leveled spears at him. When he refused to turn away, ten more arrived, and archers took position along the wall above.

Perhaps the weeks spent among assassins had spread Leandro’s reputation farther than expected. For a moment, he wondered if rumors had reached this place. However, the way they asked his name suggested otherwise.

”I’ve not come to fight you. Summon your commander. Tell him to prepare a match,” Leandro commanded.

Of course, given his past experiences, he held little hope for civility.

One guard spat, ”Get lost, beggar. Lost your mind?”

One guard thrust a spear at his leg. The others pulled back to jab at whatever space he dodged to.

Leandro let his killing intent spill forth. ”You stab anyone who walks by?”

The guard froze, dropping his weapon as he was locked stiff.

”Kh...hrrk!”

The rest stumbled back, trembling. Some collapsed to the ground.

Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!

Above, the archers loosed their arrows, not at him, but into empty air, hands betraying them as their bows slipped.

”Stand aside,” Leandro said firmly.

”Y-yes! Yes, sir!”

They scrambled to obey. Only after he had walked deep into the grand hall did he finally sense life within.

Is this truly a knightly order?

Not a single clash of steel nor a cry of exertion echoed within.