I Obtained Sword God Level Talent

4 – 004. The Knight’s Song (1)

My body was burning like fire.

That was the short thought that hit me as I opened my eyes, having lost consciousness from the exhaustion of battle.

*Swish.*

I sat up, looking around. A tent, military barracks, or maybe a temporary shelter of some kind. Luckily, my sword was neatly placed by my head.

‘Where is this…’

A barrack that was so neatly arranged it revealed the owner’s personality. At the center, a warm stove glowed. Considering the weather outside wasn’t cold, it seemed someone had lit it for me.

“You’ve finally woken up.”

In the corner of the barrack, a man was sitting in a wide, foldable chair, reading a book.

Without looking my way, the man, as if knowing that I had awakened, spoke as he turned the page.

*Flick!*

“State your affiliation and name. Since you’re a mercenary hired by the Empire, I will treat you comfortably, without any discomfort.”

“……”

“State your affiliation and name?” I furrowed my brow, then let out a sigh.

‘No need to get confrontational.’

Circumstantially, it seemed this unidentified man had saved me. No point in starting a pissing contest.

‘I could’ve easily become some wild beast’s dinner.’

When I’d finally cleaved through that last orc, I couldn’t hold onto consciousness any longer and blacked out. The fact that I woke up in this tent instead of in the middle of that freezing orc camp was all thanks to this guy’s consideration.

“Oak Mercenary Company, Frey.”

From my conversations with Hans, I’d already memorized the mercenary company’s name. I spoke casually to the man.

Abrupt stop.

At the brief response, the man’s fingers, which had been smoothly turning a page, stopped moving once again.

The man slowly got up from his seat. Then, with deliberate steps, he approached me, who was sitting sideways on the bed.

Tap, tap.

“Oak Mercenary Company, Frey, huh. No need to use honorifics. Isn’t that just how mercenary culture is?”

With those short words, he followed with a very simple action.

He patted my shoulder. No need to say more, that simple gesture seemed to hint at his character.

“You’ve done well. The Empire has won. Your part in returning from the brink also contributed to the Empire’s victory. And your comrade… the bodies recovered will be cremated and returned to their families.”

Had he been pondering what to say? The man opened his mouth only after a long pause.

‘……Ah.’

A fact I’d forgotten rose to the surface at the man’s grave face, and I stared at him blankly, mouth agape.

I know this man. And very well.

Brown hair and brown eyes. A steadfast gaze and a somewhat stubborn mouth, held firmly shut. His spotless white uniform was a testament to his upright nature.

The Empire’s rising star, a man who would no doubt become the Empire’s righteous Swordmaster in the future.

‘Lancelot.’

Lancelot Du Armand.

A character from ＜Silvering＞ was alive and breathing in front of me. My breath hitched for a moment at the unbelievable reality. Imagine it. A scene where a character from a game, movie, or manga is talking to you.

‘Of all the named characters to meet first, it’s Lancelot? Should I call this good luck?’

I almost let out a hollow laugh without realizing it.

The reason was simple. I knew Lancelot Du Armand’s future inside and out.

‘A model knight, living and dying by honor. But a knight’s symbol with a strong ‘money’ complex.’

Well, it’s not like he’s a guy who chases after money. This future Swordmaster would live without it if he had to.

Slide.

Lancelot slowly straightened his back. Then, in a low voice, he introduced himself.

“Lancelot du Armang. Captain of the Golden Lion Knights.”

“As I said, Frey.”

“……No surname?”

At my curt reply, Lancelot tilted his head. It was a reaction as if not having a surname was peculiar.

‘……Surname? Did I even have one?’

Sadly, I don’t know. In the first place, I only learned that my name was ‘Frey,’ and that I belonged to the ‘Oak Mercenary Group,’ in the orc village prison.

“I don’t know. My memories are hazy. I hurt my head before the orcs captured me, so now, only my name comes to mind.”

“Hmm. That’s a big problem.”

“Anyway. Where is this?”

“This is the Knights’ garrison. We brought you here after you collapsed unconscious and treated you.”

So that’s what happened.

The sure thing was, this guy is kind of my savior, whether he means to be or not. At times like this, I should offer a word of thanks… I was thinking that when he suddenly threw out a question.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Huh?”

What kind of bizarre question is that?

The most notable characteristic of the named character, ‘Lancelot du Armang,’ was [Sword King], a diluted version of [Sword Saint], and [Prodigy]. He shouldn’t have a trait like [Intimidation], which instills fear in others?

“……No. You don’t have to answer. You are different from ordinary mercenaries.”

Lancelot heavily shook his head. As expected, this guy is difficult to communicate with.

“Anyway. Thank you, Lancelot du Armang. I’m alive thanks to you.”

“Hm.”

I wonder if he’s misunderstanding something.

Lancelot looked at me with a complicated expression. Then, turning his body towards the outside of the tent, he said:

“You probably need some time to gather your thoughts. I will bring something light to eat in thirty minutes.”

“And something to drink.”

“Hah.”

Flap!

And yet.

A faint smile had spread on his lips as he disappeared with that short sigh.

I, who had been silently watching him, couldn’t help but wear a dumbfounded expression.

“Laughing?”

……He’s not usually that type of character?

* * *

An astonishing rumor spread through the knights’ garrison. The source was the low-ranking knight, “Windbag” Andrew.

[A mercenary, barely of age, slaughtered hundreds of orcs!]

Having seen their share of battles, the knights scoffed at the claim.

The likelihood of a mercenary just reaching adulthood being properly trained in swordsmanship and mana was virtually zero. Which meant it was most likely another tall tale from Andrew, known for his loose lips.

However.

“It’s true.”

Lancelet, the squad leader who’d been on the mission with Andrew, hammered the nail into the coffin of doubt.

The knights were in shock. A novice mercenary single-handedly defeating hundreds of orcs? It was an impossible feat according to all the historical records.

And now.

“L, Leader! What about the mercenary?!”

“How’s his condition? I heard his external injuries aren’t too severe.”

Knights swarmed Lancelet, like a disturbed hive, upon hearing the news that the subject of the rumors had woken up.

“He’s amusing.”

“……!”

“……Huh!”

The garrison knights stared at Lancelet, their mouths agape at his response.

Lancelet wasn’t the type to say something like “amusing.” The knights who had only ever witnessed him in training, swinging his sword, were struck by the unexpected and refreshing shock.

“Leader, is it true he really did kill hundreds of orcs?”

“I haven’t asked yet.”

“Ah!”

A collective sigh swept across the garrison.

If what Andrew and Lancelet had witnessed was truly the work of this fledgling mercenary, it was a monumental event. It could reach the ears of the expedition commander, or even, with some luck, His Great Imperial Majesty.

And the following sequence of events was clear.

An invisible war would break out to claim the monstrous man. Not only would he be awarded a noble title, he might even become the Emperor’s son-in-law if he was lucky.

Murmuring.

Knights who lived and died by honor, they couldn’t find composure and began to whisper amongst themselves. Such was the value of ‘talent’ in this era.

And then, at that moment.

“Sir Lancelot. Why did you find him amusing?”

Someone muttered, their voice laced with disbelief.

All eyes turned toward a middle-aged man who pushed his way through the crowd.

He was so portly it was hard to believe he wore the Knight Commander’s uniform, and the knights who looked upon him held a faint disgust in their eyes.

“…Sir Gler.”

“It’s only natural to be intrigued. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard Sir Lancelot call anyone ‘amusing’.”

The middle-aged knight, Gler, spoke, his plump cheeks wobbling. From the start, he looked at the surrounding knights with contempt, as if he didn’t believe such rumors, and continued to speak.

“It’s so absurd I can’t even close my mouth! Those who believe such lies, where do they keep their brains…!”

“Tch! You, who fled for your life, abandoning your men on the battlefield, without any honor yourself.”

“What? Who said that just now! Which lowly worm dared to!”

It was then that someone spoke in a low voice, laced with cynicism. Gler, completely enraged, turned red in the face and roared.

“You, you damn fools! I will personally strip the skin from that liar and force the truth out of him!”

*Shling!*

He drew his sword from his waist and strode forward. His destination was obvious. Lancelot’s tent, where the rumored mercenary was resting. That was where he was headed.

“W, wait, what?!”

“Commander! Shouldn’t we stop Sir Gler?!”

Some of the knights, taken aback by the sudden turn of events, cried out to Lancelot.

“…No.”

But it was Lancelot’s reaction that shocked the knights.

He shook his head, his expression as blank as usual. It was a clear sign that there was no need to stop Gler, that the situation should be allowed to play out.

“Oh, no!”

“Stop Gler!”

But that was not what the other knights thought. Most of the knights who had been gathered there hurried to chase after Gler.

“Hmm.”

Lancelot watched the knights rush towards the tent, recalling the events that had just unfolded.

‘Lancelot du Armans. That’s my name.’

Followed by Lancelot’s introduction.

‘Anyway, thanks. Lancelot du Armans, I survived because of you.’

Frey’s greeting.

*Chuckle.*

Lancelot wasn’t stupid enough to not know the difference between two sentences. He just had a bit of a blunt personality. That’s why he felt it, instinctively. The man inside that tent was like him… someone born with a ‘blessing’.

“……I should take a look.”

There were things he wanted to ask him. A lot of things.