The Legendary Spearman Returns Side Story Chapter 439

Side Story Chapter 439

After the western rebel leaders left the conference room, Marquess Turtler greeted a sapphire-haired man.

“Hello, Lacoon.”

“Yes, my lord.” Lacoon bowed.

He looked to be in his thirties at most; he was actually one of the younger knights within the western rebel army. However, his looks were deceiving—he was the strongest in the army, next to Turtler.

“I have a job for you,” Turtler began.

“I heard about the news, so I’m already aware of it.”

“Are you confident about this?”

“It’s my job to follow any order you give me,” Lacoon firmly replied.

“You’re going after a boy, so I understand if you aren’t happy about it,” Turtler gently said.

“Not at all, sir.”

“No, I’m doing this because I’m uncomfortable with this. I might rip my subordinates’ limbs apart when I don’t like them, but I want to give you an explanation so that you can understand.”

Lacoon raised his head. “…I heard my target is the Second Prince.”

“Yes; according to the rumor, he’s a Class A Knight and has recently manifested an authority. He’s just like you.” Turtler rested his chin on his hand.

“I think the fact that he’s the Martial God’s son is more than enough reason for me to go on this mission.”

“Take three of my personal knight orders. Considering your abilities, it’s a bit of an overkill, but I hope to eliminate the possibility of something bad happening to you.”

“Yes, my lord,” Lacoon answered.

Turtler’s expression turned a bit serious. “That is a very brusque response.”

“I won’t repeat it in the future.”

“Do you still resent me for that incident?”

“…Not at all, sir.” Lacoon vigorously shook his head.

Turtler shook his head back. “Didn’t you hesitate for a moment just now?”

“You misunder—”

A finger-sized magic bullet ripped through Lacoon’s shoulder. Lacoon stopped speaking, his face contorted in pain.

“Does it sting a little?” Turtler asked.

“Ugh… no, it doesn’t.”

“Don’t forget who your master is.”

“Yes, sir.” Lacoon nodded.

“Get going—now.”

The mountain was dangerous at night, and there was a good reason why the rebel army only took a set route in and out of the castle. Right now, it was in the middle of the night—long before daybreak.

However, of course, Lacoon replied, “Yes, sir.”

“Hmph. You’re boring.” Turtler leaned against his seat, his interest lost.

Lacoon saluted and quietly exited the room.

“Doesn’t he know that nothing good will come for both him and his previous master if he keeps on acting that way? Tsk.” Turtler quietly clicked his tongue. Lacoon tried his best to ignore him.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Lacoon stopped the bleeding from his shoulder, so he headed to the meeting point in front of the castle.

Lacoon became confused when he arrived.

Three hundred knights in full armor were supposed to be waiting for him here, but only one person answered his summons.

“…What is going on, Sir Guiltine?” Lacoon asked.

Guiltine slouched lazily and picked at his ear. “Wow, look at all that earwax. I haven’t cleaned the inside of my ears for a while, and now look at the state of it.”

“…Sir Guiltine.”

“What? Knights? I’ve already sent them down the mountain.”

“What are you talking about?” Lacoon took a step forward. “Marquess Turtler put me in charge of this mission.”

“In other words, the Black Turtle Knights and I have to follow your order?”

“That is Marquess Turtler’s order.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Guiltine quietly cursed as he strode forward. “Hey, Lacoon, you do know that the main reason why Marquess Turtler entrusted you with this matter is that he’s testing you, right? Or, wait… You didn’t know? Then you better thank me.”

“Sir Guiltine!”

“Hey, Lacoon, don’t be too serious. It’s just one boy,” Guiltine said, grinning.

Of course, Lacoon’s face didn’t brighten up one bit. “That boy is the Emperor’s son and he might be related to the Demon Spirit.”

“That’s all the more reason to not let you take the lead.”

“What…?”

“It’s the Prince. If he’s actually related to the Demon Spirit like the rumor says, then even less reason to cower. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity—capturing an member of the Imperial Family who joined forces with the evil Demon Spirit is a tremendous accomplishment,” Guiltine explained.

“Why don’t you cut it out with your fantasies?”

“Think about it. You were the knight of this region’s original lord, and we, the Black Turtler Knights, have been part of the western rebel army from the start. So wouldn’t it look better for us to capture the Prince?”

“Are you going to take responsibility if you get defeated?” Lacoon asked, frowning slightly.

“What? Us, lose? Ha! You bastard, you’re really funny. We’re the best knights in the west; we’re going to lose to a little boy?” Guiltine burst into raucous laughter. “Hahaha! If that really happens, I’ll lick your feet and bark like a dog, just like you’re doing for Marquess Turtler.”

Lacoon replied with silence.

“We’ve wasted too much time, so why don’t we get going? The other knights must have arrived at the bottom of the mountain by now.” Guiltine turned away without a second thought. “The other Black Turtle Knights and I actually made a bet on who’ll capture the greenhorn Second Prince. It’s a great chance for every knight to make an accomplishment, don’t you think?” Guiltine chuckled.

“In that case, congratulations. You get the first opportunity.”

Upon hearing a voice other than Lacoon’s, Guiltine’s eyes widened. “Who’s that?”

“What do you mean, who am I? Weren’t you looking for me?”

Even Lacoon, who was watching Guiltine, was caught totally unaware. A very handsome red-haired man emerged out of the darkness from far behind the castle.

“Wait…?” Lacoon blankly murmured.

* * *

“Are you crazy, Your Highness?” Anna shrieked at Kireua.

He kept walking forward.

“We went through all that trouble to get to the top of the mountain, so what are you doing? You said that we’ll go back once we slit Marquess Turtler’s throat!” she cried in disbelief.

“That is what I’m doing.”

“You call this an assassination? You aren’t exactly moving stealthily!”

“We don’t even have an accurate map of the castle’s interior, so we can’t look for their leader blindly. Besides, we don’t even have the time. Once the other guards come in for their shifts, they’ll instantly know that something is wrong down there.” Kireua shrugged.

His actions were actually based on a perfectly rational judgment and he was confident that he wouldn’t get caught since he was using none other than the stealth technique of this generation’s best assassin. However, his mana wasn’t limitless. He could hold out for a while, but he would be stranded if he failed to find his target within the time limit.

Above all, Kireua wanted to meet the man he was standing in front of now because the man’s face was quite familiar.

“I’m Kireua Sanders.”

“…I see. You are indeed the Second Prince.” The man stepped forward when he noticed that Kireua was looking at him.

“Have we met before?”

“My name is Lacoon den Adsarak.”

“You have a middle name,” Kireua noted softly.

In Avalon, middle names were only given to the members of a family of a rank equal to or higher than a count.

“Count Wiesel den Adsarak is my father.”

“Wiesel den Adsarak… Ah!”

A memory flashed across Kireua’s mind. Class A knights were called Masters, and everything about them, from their family and sword technique to their appearance and affiliation, was recorded and stored in the Imperial Archive. If they were the citizens of the Avalon Empire, they were especially obligated to divulge that information. Although some people said that it was a precautionary measure for an incident like a rebellion, it wasn’t only bad news for the Masters in question.

If one’s record was stored in the imperial archive, that meant that the person was a knight that was strong enough to be recognized by the emperor. After the start of the authority era, the significance of the title of Class A knight had diminished, but it was the most certain standard to measure one’s strength.

In fact, the “Frozen Swords” Adsaraks were famous throughout the entire continent.

“It’s an honor to meet the son of His most respected Majesty Joshua Sanders.” Lacoon saluted.

Kireua’s gaze turned sharp. Although Lacoon’s tone was very polite, he was actually very rude if Kireua examined his remark in depth.

Kireua smiled coldly. ‘He also just sees me as His Majesty’s son, not myself.’

“I won’t ask how you got here, so please surrender now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to kill the son of the person whom I respect so much,” Lacoon calmly answered.

Kireua’s smile deepened, but his jaw clenched.

“I’ll put in a good word to Marquess Turtler about you.”

“That’s funny,” Kireua mumbled.

Lacoon’s gaze also turned sharp. “I’ve heard about your victories, but with your abilities, you won’t be able to best me with Sir Guiltine on my side.”

“Is there a reason why you’re so sure about that?”

“Experience makes the difference among Class A knights,” Lacoon asserted.

Kireua quietly observed the rebel knights’ mana and became certain that the two of them were both Masters.

“I don’t need to explain further if you’re one of the people who manifested authority,” Lacoon added.

“Hey, Lacoon! Why do you keep chatting with him?” The other man, who had been silent until now, came forward. “Good to meet you, Tragic Prince! I’m Guiltine Aoult, and as you may have already noticed, I don’t have such a thing as a middle name.”

“Again, I’ve never heard your name.” Kireua tilted his head.

“Yeah, but my name will be engraved on your mind. Oh, I’d actually have a middle name by that time.”

Kireua was confused.

Guiltine grinned. “My master will praise me if I bring him the Second Prince’s head before daybreak!”

Guiltine took off as soon as he finished speaking; Lacoon didn’t even have time to stop him.

“Sir Guiltine!” Lacoon shouted at his back.

Guiltine tore through the air like a ballista bolt as fast as his legs would propel him. He held a very unique, gigantic sickle, which looked like an iron rod with a crescent moon welded onto the top. Guiltine was the only person in the world who had manifested the authority of a grim reaper.

Since the start of the authority era, even the strongest knights used unorthodox weapons; it was safe to say that the era of the sword was completely over.

“Arggghhhh!” Guiltine roared as he swung his sickle. His mana shook the dark sky. His aura attacks multiplied into dozens of miniature crescent moons, and they were all headed toward Kireua.

It was Gutiline’s first signature technique: Crescent Moon on Hell’s Night Sky.

“Sir Guiltine! You shouldn’t kill the Prince!”

Lacoon’s shouting was muffled by Guiltine’s laughter.

“Hahahahahahaha!”

Blinded by his lust for glory, Guiltine was using more power than he had originally planned—Lacoon was already too late. Even Lacoon had trouble escaping a storm of aura that big.

But an enormous explosion made Lacoon and Guiltine’s heads jerk around and look at Kireua. Kireua managed to escape the storm of Guiltine’s attacks and flew up in the air, becoming one with the full moon hanging high in the sky.

“Magic Sword Art Level 4, Moon Sword…” Kireua murmured.

The sight of Kireua slowly descending to the ground with his sword held high was so majestically beautiful that Lacoon was captivated.

“…Moonlight Shower.”

A rain of yellow aura attacks fell upon them.