“-Why don’t you stay for dinner, Cadet Irene?”
“Huh?”
“It’s already late, and I feel bad just sending you off like this, especially after you shared this meal with us.”
“I-it’s just something I wanted to prepare myself…”
“It’s a matter of courtesy. We can’t let you leave like this. Maid.”
“Yes!”
“Please warm up some beef stew and bread.”
“Leave it to me!”
“…Don’t rush. Please take your time.”
“??”
“I-I’ll help you.”

Irene, being quick to notice, approached Leira to assist her in the preparations.
Seeing this, Ihan smiled contentedly as he began to gather two hand axes hanging on the wall.

“I’ll chop some firewood while you prepare. Take good care of the maid, Cadet Irene.”
“Yes, yes!”

Everything seemed to be moving along haphazardly.
Despite finding herself unexpectedly staying for dinner, Irene was somewhat relieved that she wouldn’t have to eat alone.
Even though there was a ghost constantly chattering inside her, a ghost has no warmth, after all.

‘He seems like a considerate person, doesn’t he?’

As Irene watched his back as he left, she thought maybe, despite his appearance, Ihan might be a kind man who was attentive to others.

─But, contrary to her expectations...

Creak.

“……”

As he stepped out, the expression on his face was far from warm or kind—it was nothing but cold and grim.

 

Around the tranquil cabin.
To the unknowing eye, the peaceful scene would seem like something from a fairytale being told by a storyteller to a child.
But within this serene landscape, Ihan felt a distinct sense of disturbance.
Gripping his two axes tighter, he strode forward.

“—Come out.”

-……….

“Just so you know, I only give two warnings.”

Ihan’s eyes began to narrow, and a powerful aura surged around him.

Whoosh.

‘They’ appeared.

A group of suspicious figures, all dressed in black.
There were about thirty of them, and as Ihan stared at the group, his expression did not soften one bit.

At that moment.

“Calm down. We haven’t come to threaten you,” said the one with the strongest presence among the group, attempting to explain.

“Hah, you say you’re not here to threaten me, but you reek of danger.”
“……”
“You look like a dangerous bunch to anyone.”

A poor excuse will never convince anyone.
Reeking of blood, and yet asking to be trusted—who would believe that?

However.

“You’re no different.”
“What?”
“If we’re talking about danger, you’re no less dangerous. A commoner like you standing next to the young lady—how could we possibly remain calm?”
“…Ha, look at this guy.”

What nerve.
Seeing the man speaking so boldly, Ihan’s mind went cold.
But instead of losing his temper, his heartbeat began to pound loudly as he slowly...

Tap.

“Enough. Even if I let the others go, you’re getting a beating.”
“Rubbish.”

Ihan tossed the axes to the ground and approached the black-clad figure who had irked him the most. In response, the man also stepped forward.

“I won’t kill you.”

Maybe the man liked Ihan’s proposal. He handed his sword to someone else and approached bare-handed.

In the next moment...

Smash!
Boom!

Without further words, the two men began exchanging blows.

…It was a sudden and unexpected brawl.

 

Ihan’s fists—no, his entire body—was strong.
Thanks to the troll blood running through him, his physical strength was exceptional, and through constant training, he had refined his body to a point where he could easily overpower most knights with sheer physical force.
The previous day’s beating of the sub-commander of the Pollet family’s knights was proof of that.

In a fistfight, few could match Ihan.
No, actually, no one should ever try to fight him barehanded.

And yet...

Smash! Smash!
Boom!
Crash!

It was a real fight.
In fact, it wasn’t just a fight; Ihan was being pushed back.
Despite never losing in hand-to-hand combat, Ihan found himself struggling.

The black-clad man’s punches were fast, skilled, and precise, showing that he had clearly mastered some form of martial art.
Considering most knights focused exclusively on weaponry, this was unusual, but right now, that wasn’t what Ihan cared about.

Because...

Crack!

Both men were entirely focused on one thing: overpowering the other.

Their punches collided, and for a moment, there was a cracking sound. However, it wasn’t their bones breaking—it was the stones scattered beneath their feet.

Whoosh!

Ihan threw out a series of quick jabs, as though he were a boxer. The sound of his fists cutting through the air was menacing.
Six sharp punches were thrown in quick succession, and even a graze would have torn flesh.

But the black-clad man dodged and deflected them all, stepping into Ihan’s guard and kicking his shin.
Though the blow lacked strength, it carried a sharp precision that cut into the bone.

There are sometimes people like this.
Some fighters pack power into their punches, while others pack a ‘blade’ into them.

It was as if the man’s whole body was a razor blade.
The more blows landed, the redder Ihan’s skin became.
But Ihan’s blows weren’t to be underestimated either.

If his opponent’s strikes were like a blade, then Ihan’s were like hammer blows.

Boom!

“…Alright, I’ll give you that, commoner. Your punches pack a punch.”

Blood dripped from the man’s mouth after Ihan landed a blow to his abdomen.
It was a hit that should have rattled his insides. It wouldn’t have been surprising if he collapsed right then and there.
Yet, somehow, the man stood firm, and Ihan’s brow furrowed.

“Don’t you feel like collapsing yet?”
“You just love to talk, don’t you?”
Boom!

Words were unnecessary.
They resumed their brawl, with neither man holding back. They abandoned defense entirely, focusing solely on hitting and withstanding each other’s blows.

It became a battle of pride.

At some point, the fight had transformed into a pure contest of endurance, with neither man willing to retreat.
Each time they were hit, they responded with even harder blows, turning the fight into a brutal exchange of punches and kicks.
Whenever their fists or feet struck the ground, the force caused rocks to shatter, and the area around them became littered with debris.

Trees were pierced, rocks crumbled like tofu, and the surroundings were steadily destroyed.

“……”
“……”

Even though they were clearly in pain, neither man screamed. They just hit each other, over and over again.
And before long, their fight wasn’t just about punches anymore.

Whoosh!

The man began using catch wrestling techniques.
Catch wrestling, known for its emphasis on grappling and submission holds, was considered a gentlemanly sport.
But the way the black-clad man used it was anything but gentlemanly—it was as threatening as a snake coiling around its prey.

‘Is this guy a grappler!?’

A chill ran down Ihan’s spine as he realized just how deadly the man’s technique was.

Ihan had to admit it.
This guy had either spent his whole life training to the peak of his physical abilities or had some insane talent and strength.
Aside from outliers like Baltar, this man was stronger than anyone Ihan had faced before.

And yet...

‘…Why am I enjoying this?’

Ihan found himself getting excited.
Though he wasn’t usually the type to revel in fighting strong opponents...

And with that...

Whoosh!

He let go of all restraint.

 

‘What kind of man is this?’
‘Is that guy really going toe-to-toe with Sir Rach...?’
‘...This is unbelievable.’

Meanwhile, the other black-clad figures watching the fight were quietly stunned.
Who was Sir Rach?
From a young age, he had excelled in training and eventually became so skilled that even Duke Galahad had called him a monster.
That’s why Rach had been bestowed with the title of ‘Lake,’ given only to the finest knights of the Galahad family.

And yet, here he was, struggling against an unknown knight.

Some might wonder why they said Rach was struggling despite fighting well.

‘Sir Rach is starting to use his grappling techniques.’

He was using the grappling techniques he reserved for sparring with the captain of the knights or Duke Galahad himself when he was running low on stamina.

That’s why the black-clad men thought the fight was over.
They knew just how deadly those techniques were.

…But then.

“…Is that guy insane?”
They were once again stunned.

Not only had this unknown knight matched Sir Rach in striking, but now, in a completely different sense, they were shocked.

Crack! Crack!

“He just stood up from that position? …With pure strength?”
Even while locked in a hold that could have broken his arms and shoulders, Ihan had stood up.
Despite the danger of having his arms, shoulders, and neck broken, he had endured it all and risen to his feet.
His bones were cracking audibly as he did so.

“…He’s a madman.”
“I’ll heal after a while anyway.”
“Should I test that?”
“Try me.”

Crack!

The cracking sound grew even louder, but Ihan clung to the man with even more force, determined not to let him escape.

“I’m not letting go, so finish it if you can.”
“Fine.”

Neither Ihan nor Rach had any intention of giving in, and both pressed on with increased intensity.

Flesh for bone.
Ihan, though suffocating and feeling his shoulder breaking, prepared to slam his opponent down.
Rach, in turn, focused on trying to break Ihan’s shoulder but was puzzled when it refused to give any further.

As the two men were about to bring their brutal fight to a conclusion...

[-Enough.]

“……”
“……”

‘An undeniable third party’ commanded them to stop.

[Stop it now. Rach, release him. You, too, let go.]

“…If he lets go first.”
“If this commoner admits defeat, I will stop.”

[……Do you think I’m asking?]

“……”
“……”

[On the count of three, you both let go. One, two, three—.]

Crack!
Thud!

“…You’re not letting go?”
“You first.”

[……Sigh.]

They didn’t listen and instead continued drawing blood.
Despite their wounded pride, neither man showed any signs of stopping, and their opponent sighed.

Contrary to the documents Ihan had read, this was a man who seemed to lack the madness he was reputed for.

The current lord of Galahad.

‘Blake Vivian de Galahad’ let out a deep sigh.

Seeing these two impossible-to-control young men was clearly giving him a headache.