Chaos.

It was the only fitting word to describe the horrific scene that had unfolded.

However, perhaps it was more accurate to call this catastrophe a "man-made disaster."

For the calamity before them was, unmistakably, a disaster wrought by human hands.

But at that moment, no one had the luxury to dwell on such thoughts.

"Sir! Protect the lord!" "Ensure the safety of the master!" "What about the servants in the mansion?" "There are no servants in the mansion! Just focus on ensuring the lord's safety!" "Understood."

The head of the Tristan family—Marquis Zhenimea—was in a state of uncertainty regarding his life or death.

Miraculously, the intruder's attack had only destroyed the mansion where the marquis resided. Because of his sensitivity to noise, Marquis Zhenimea sent all servants away at night to avoid being disturbed, allowing him to sleep soundly. Thankfully, there were no casualties. As long as the marquis was safe…

"The lord is unharmed!" "Ahhhhh!"

With virtually no actual casualties, the servants of the Tristan estate roared in joyous relief.

They had confirmed their master’s safety.

…However.

"Surround the intruder!" "…Ugh!" "Stay back! Keep the perimeter tight, but don’t get close! Going near him is a death sentence!"

The enemy remained, refusing to retreat.

The soldiers formed a circle around the intruder, but none dared to close the distance.

Drip, drip.

Blood trickled down his face, and the man looked slightly fatigued. This could have been an opportune moment to strike, yet no one dared to underestimate or let their guard down.

"Where did such a monster come from…?"

This fiend had not just breached the main gate but utterly destroyed it. Most of the soldiers had seen his actions firsthand, and even those who hadn’t had heard from their comrades, ensuring that none underestimated him.

Rather, they were gripped by fear and dread.

Even among elite soldiers, not everyone was fearless.

In that tense atmosphere…

"How dare such an audacious one attack Tristan!"

They had arrived.

"The knights! The knights are here!!"

Soldiers sighed in relief as they spotted the flag bearing the emblem of the Red Eagle fluttering in the distance. The ones arriving now were none other than knights known for their unmatched might.

The Crimson Eagle Knights.

This order was renowned not only within the kingdom but also abroad, known for their age-old traditions and prestige. Every single knight of the order had shown up in response to the assault on Tristan.

There was a saying that the arrival of just ten knights could shift the tide of any battle. While slightly exaggerated, it was testament to the overwhelming prowess each knight possessed. Without a doubt, if there were ten members of the Crimson Eagle Knights, they could single-handedly alter the course of a battle.

These knights were incomparable in strength, often mentioned alongside the Silver Lions of their prime, once led by the God of War.

Though all may have pretended otherwise, everyone knew that, save for Galahad and Lionel, the strongest knights of the capital were here. Unlike the Silver Lions, who had weakened over time, the Crimson Eagles remained at their peak.

One hundred Crimson Eagles.

The aura of determination and wrath exuded by these hundred knights was enough to shake the earth and stir the air with their fiery presence.

Fwoosh!

They emanated an aura akin to fire demons!

Their sheer grandeur overwhelmed even the intimidating presence of the intruder, uplifting the spirits of the soldiers.

And then—

"Oh, dear. I was sleeping soundly, and now I’m woken up to this mess."

As the one known as the Unbreakable Archer appeared, some of the soldiers even shed tears of relief.

"Lord!!" "Please, don’t shout. You know my ears are sensitive."

A red-haired man in his mid-thirties—though he looked no older than that—walked out of the wrecked mansion. Though he was over fifty, words like "handsome" and "refined" suited him well. He could have walked onto any stage as a lead actor.

But he was far from just a pretty face.

With every step he took, he exuded a profound, imposing presence, amplified by the massive composite bow slung over his shoulder.

This giant bow, even taller than an average woman, was crafted from the horns of a monstrous creature known as the Geowugwi, or Minotaur. It was the symbol of the head of the Tristan family, a line known for producing archers of unparalleled skill.

"You, young man. You do realize what it means to have come here targeting not just Tristan, but me, correct?"

Zhenimea Rivelin de Tristan.

The current head of the Tristan family and the commander of the Crimson Eagle Knights, the archer addressed him calmly yet with imposing spirit.

"……."

Was he tense now that a hundred knights and the marquis had arrived? He didn’t respond, and Marquis Zhenimea, seemingly expecting no reply, shook his head.

"Master, just say the word, and I will bring you his head at once!"

Perhaps the intruder’s insolent demeanor had rubbed the loyal knights the wrong way, for they waited eagerly, ready to act at their lord’s command and take the enemy’s head.

But the marquis waved them down.

"He’s not a mere thug. Though he attacked, no one has been hurt." "That was mere coincidence…" "Is that truly what you think?" "……."

An irrefutable truth.

As the marquis said, the man was undoubtedly a formidable fighter. Hadn’t they all seen from afar?

The monstrous strength with which he hurled that iron gate.

Yet despite his power, he hadn’t killed anyone. The marquis’s mansion was demolished, yet no casualties were reported. This couldn’t simply be written off as luck or a miracle.

In reality…

"I was spared… Ha! I can’t think of a greater humiliation."

It meant the man had intentionally let him live.

"Moreover, this intruder knew that I alone was in the mansion." "Then that makes it even more outrageous…" "No, it’s rather amusing. Look closely. Only the area opposite my bedroom has been destroyed." "……." "If this is merely luck or coincidence, I should go seek the Holy Grail immediately, ha!"

The Holy Grail of Avalon, a treasure of legend, existing only in myths. The mere thought of finding it was absurd. What the marquis implied was clear: this intruder had never intended to kill anyone from the beginning.

Not the soldiers, nor even the marquis, despite the many chances to do so.

Thus—

"Reveal your identity and surrender. Your life will be spared."

The marquis extended an offer of mercy.

A chance to grant clemency to his adversary—

"Hey, pretty-faced old man, if you do that, it defeats the whole point of me not aiming at your bedroom."

"………."

…Pretty-faced old man.

The marquis was momentarily taken aback by the unfamiliar term, and so were the knights.

Yet he continued, undeterred.

"I came here to pick a fight with you! I came here to fight you…! So, your options are to make me kneel or kill me while I resist with all my strength. But forgiving me? That defeats the purpose of me coming all the way here!"

"…Ha."

It was shameless to the point of absurdity.

What was this man?

The marquis, who had spent nearly fifty years encountering all sorts of people, had never encountered a character like this.

The marquis let out a short laugh, speechless, as the man pointed at the knights.

"You’re all the same. I’ve threatened your master and insulted him, brazenly trespassed into the estate in the dead of night, and destroyed his property. I even half-destroyed the mansion where he resides. And yet, here you stand. Why haven’t you drawn your swords yet, as knights should?"

Boom!

The man stomped his foot.

A step that reverberated through the ground, a display of his frustration and anger.

The marquis’s courtesy, …or perhaps the noble dignity and restraint he had shown, was of no concern to him.

"Still lacking a reason? Fine, I’ll give you one. I’m going to punch your master’s pretty face. Stop me if you can, or his face won’t be pretty for long."

Grit!

"You…!" "How dare he!" "He insults the lord! This insolent fiend deserves to burn in hell!"

Swish! Clang! Shing!

Swords and spears were drawn. The murderous intent from the knights’ blades was intense, and even if the marquis commanded them to stop, they could not restrain themselves.

Allowing an insult to their master was something no knight could endure.

Boom!

One hundred Crimson Eagle Knights charged toward the man.

To seize the head of the man who had insulted their master.

And, finally provoked, he spoke.

"Yes, this is how it should be."

Satisfied, he threw himself into the tide of murderous intent closing in around him.

 

"Form the Greater Beast-Hunting Formation!"

Though filled with fury, the knights were anything but fools. In fact, the anger had only sharpened their focus, and they quickly shifted into a hunting formation tailored for the man.

Having witnessed the intruder’s monstrous strength firsthand, they made no mistake in assessing his power and moved with full force to bring him down.

It was a formation for hunting colossal beasts, and the hundred knights moved with seamless unity as if they were a single, living organism.

Pressure. Defense. Attack. Support.

Each took on their role meticulously.

Thud! Crack! Fwoosh!

The hundred knights exuded a force—a power that couldn’t be explained by mere aura alone, but was instead a concentrated manifestation of their collective martial prowess. It was a pressure greater and more terrifying than an entire army of ten thousand, and no mere individual could stand against it.

This was the first stage of their assault. No matter how large or fearsome a beast might be, it couldn’t escape the net of power they had woven.

No creature had ever escaped this formation, and the knights intended to take down their target in one swift strike.

…Except.

“…Ha!”

Such tactics might work against a mere monster, but not against him.

He—Ihan—let out a chuckle.

It was not a situation in which one should laugh.

There were a hundred knights bearing down on him, each one a formidable opponent. Though they weren’t champions, they were true veterans, and their presence bore down on him with immense weight. Even his joints creaked under the pressure.

…Yet, why did he feel a sense of familiarity in this oppressive atmosphere?

He realized it then. He had felt a similar aura and intensity before.

‘…Is it the same? Or perhaps even stronger?’

The Demon King. The oppressive force was comparable, or even greater, than the aura exuded by the Troll King he had once fought.

‘How amusing….’

This world was truly entertaining.

He’d thought all knight orders were weaklings, like the Silver Lions had become, but here was a group of knights who could stand toe-to-toe with the Demon King.

So his whole body tingled.

If he lost focus for even a moment, he felt he would die. And yet, ironically, he was able to withstand it thanks to his past encounter with that monstrous king.

It was only due to that experience that he could endure. Only because he hadn’t grown complacent and had trained relentlessly, sparing no single day, was he able to withstand the pressure that threatened to crush him.

Creak!

With a strained grin, he tore through their net of power.

"W-what kind of monster is he?!"

"Throw the spears!!"

"All at once—strike him down with your swords…!!"

The Crimson Eagles were stunned as Ihan relentlessly battered through their net of energy, shattering it bit by bit until his sheer force was enough to match theirs. But if the knights had known his intentions, they might have felt not just shock, but also humiliation.

For he was thinking—

‘If I want to avoid making my kid an enemy, I’d better not kill anyone, right?’

A vow of non-lethality.

He had resolved to end this without killing a single person.

With this solitary commitment, a determination that raised the difficulty of the fight to an extreme level, Ihan—

Paah!

—kicked off the ground, aiming at the air.