I Became the Dark Knight in the Game

Chapter 8: Mercenaries and the Dark Knight (3)

Chapter 8: Mercenaries and the Dark Knight (3)

After having dinner, the group decided on the order for night watch and then fell asleep.

Dale also closed his eyes in a suitable spot.

In fact, Dale neither needed to eat nor sleep. His half-undead body did not require such activities.

Yet Dale forced himself to eat and sleep.

To not forget that he was human.

Dale forcibly closed his eyes.

But no matter how much he wished, sleep did not come to him. Dale just lay with his eyes closed while recalling memories from his past over and over again.

Sometimes these memories would suddenly become incredibly clear. They were vivid and real as if they were unfolding right in front of his eyes.

Dale called this dreaming.

A frequent visitor in these dreams was his grandfather who raised him.

Today was no different.

His grandfather, back when Dale was human, said to him:

In everyones heart, there are two wolves. A good wolf and a bad wolf. These two wolves are always in fierce battle. Which wolf do you think will win?

The one you feed

I dont think you know, so let me tell you the answer. Its the one you feed. Do you understand?

His grandfather interrupted Dales words and hastily explained.

Dale in the dream smiled bitterly. It seemed his grandfather had found some nice phrase in a newspaper or somewhere and wanted to share it with Dale.

Although it was a very famous story, Dale still listened attentively to his grandfather.

Even a common tale became special when spoken by him.

Always try to feed the good, kind wolf. Understand?

His grandfather said this while stroking the young Dales head.

Dale nodded and thought to himself.

I think he said something more here?

At that moment, Dale awoke from the dream. More precisely, his thoughts were interrupted.

His keen hearing had picked up an unfamiliar sound.

The sound of turning pages.

It was not a sound one would expect to hear in such a place.

Dale opened his eyes and turned his head.

A short man was sitting in front of the campfire as he read a book.

Seeing his face, Dale was a bit surprised.

A gnome?

Gnomes. A small race that looks similar in appearance to humans but only about half their height.

As befits their origin from the desert, their ears hang down and they had thick eyelashes.

Overall, they looked cute and young, but Dale had heard their strength was comparable to humans.

Was there ever a gnome among our group? Ah, the porter.

The mercenary who walked around wearing a helmet was actually a gnome.

Feeling intrigued, Dale approached the campfire.

The gnome, who had been concentrating heavily on a book jumped in surprise as a shadow loomed over him.

Eeek!

The gnome immediately put his head on the ground and apologized.

Im-Im so sorry for being too noisy! My apologies!

Dont worry about it. I cant sleep anyway.

Eh? Then why were you lying down?

I just felt like it.

Confused by the response, the gnome tilted his head in puzzlement.

Dale said while looking at the thick book the gnome was holding.

Can you read?

Eh? Oh, yes. I had the chance to learn how to read and write.

Impressive.

Dale sincerely praised the gnome.

In this world, there were far more people who couldnt read than those who could.

Dale himself had been among the illiterate.

It was a real struggle just to learn the language.

He remembered the challenges he faced when he first arrived in this world.

When he first encountered people without knowing the language, it led to many awkward situations.

He was mistaken for a monster and was attacked several times.

Remembering those times, he couldnt help but shiver.

Knowing how to read is a great thing.

Uh

The gnomes eyes widened, and suddenly, large tear drops formed in his eyes.

Dale asked in confusion.

Did I say something wrong?

No, no. Im sorry. Its just that this is the first time someone has praised me like this. Everyone always scolds gnomes, saying whats the use of us knowing how to read?

Isnt it easier to find work if you can read?

Well, people dont really hire gnomes much.

The gnome muttered bitterly.

Dale nodded his head in understanding.

Even in the game, each race was viewed differently.

He recalled that gnomes were not a particularly popular race.

Dale spoke up.

My name is Dale.

Ah. Im Leon, son of Ayla. As you know, Im a wooden badge mercenary, and I dont yet have a grade or class.

Understood. Leon, Ill take the night watch, so you continue reading your book.

Oh. Is that really okay with you? I dont want to be a burden

Dont worry about it. I dont sleep anyway.

Thank you.

Leon bowed his head gratefully and eagerly returned to his book.

From that appearance, Dale saw a resemblance to his younger sibling from his previous life.

He felt his cold heart warm slightly.

At moments like these, Dale felt a small, very slight return to his humanity, which brought him joy.

The sound of pages turning and the crackling of the campfire deepened into the night.

***

The following day, their journey remained peaceful.

The carriage moved smoothly without the mercenaries facing any real threats.

But isnt it too peaceful? It was to the point that Dale became wary.

In the late afternoon, the carriage came to a stop in the middle of a forest path.

Miles called out.

Alright. Were not far from the owlbears habitat. Lets fill our bellies here, prepare thoroughly, and then move on.

The priestess asked,

Did we have to stop in a forest path like this? What if a monster appears?

Haha! You dont know, priestess. What beast would dare lurk within the territory of the mutant owlbear? If there were such a powerful monster, it would have surely left traces behind.

I see.

The priestess nodded in agreement.

She felt a bit uneasy but decided to trust Miles. A veteran mercenary would be most knowledgeable in these matters.

Miles began to set up a pot and said,

Today, Ill show off my cooking skills!

A mercenary with a bow expressed his doubt.

Miles, youre cooking?

Haha. Long years as a mercenary naturally improve ones cooking skills. You can look forward to it. My fellow mercenaries also love my cooking.

Another mercenary who was aware that Miles companions had all died in the previous mission corrected him.

You mean they used to love it?

A-Aah, right. My mistake. I was so close to them; it still feels like theyre alive.

Miles scratched his head awkwardly. The other mercenaries fell silent with solemn expressions on their faces.

As if to lighten the somber mood, Miles cheerfully shouted.

Alright! Ill start cooking; everyone get ready!

The mercenaries nodded and began checking their weapons.

Meanwhile, Miles started making the soup.

It was a simple soup made with jerky and dried vegetables.

When the cooking was finished, everyone gathered around the pot with eager expressions.

They were curious about the taste, especially with Miles making such a fuss over it.

Miles served the soup into the bowls of the mercenaries.

Porter. And Sir Dale, please have some too.

Th-thank you.

Thanks.

Leon hurriedly took the soup, fearing that he might get kicked again.

Dale extended his bowl indifferently.

Miles filled Dales bowl to the brim, pouring twice as much as he did for the others.

Youre a big guy; you need to eat more, right?

Thanks.

One by one, the mercenaries began to taste the soup.

Huh?

The priestess tilted her head in confusion. The taste wasnt bad but it wasnt something to make a fuss over.

It was just average.

Slightly unique in flavor, though.

It seemed that others felt the same way.

But the soup was made with sincerity, so they couldnt complain.

The people quietly scooped up and ate their soup.

Dale was about to taste his soup when suddenly he felt a tingling sensation at the back of his head.

Killing intent.

He perceived a faint trace of killing intent from beyond the bushes. The assailant knew how to mask their hostility to some extent.

It was just that a dark knights senses were exceptionally sharp.

A monster?

Dale turned his head again to alert others of the anomaly and then he saw it.

Miles was pretending to eat soup while sneakily glancing at the mercenaries.

Dale lowered his gaze to his soup, his mind racing. He dipped his finger in the soup and then brought it to his mouth.

Without hesitation, Dale kicked the pot, splashing the boiling hot soup all over Miles.

Aaaagh!

Everyone, spit out the soup!

Huh?

The other mercenaries were slow to react as they were startled by Dales sudden action.

Dale drew his sword and planned to strike Miles down.

But Miles quickly retreated, dodging the sword, and shouted angrily.

You bastard Everyone, attack!!

The mercenaries were momentarily confused and panicked, thinking the loud command echoing through the forest was directed at them.

But it wasnt.

Whoosh

Ugh!

An arrow shot from somewhere lodged itself in the priestesss shoulder.

Miles muttered with a hint of regret.

Fu*k it. A priestess would have fetched a higher price.

Only then did the mercenaries realize that something was amiss and they drew their weapons.

From the bushes, five assailants sprang out and charged.

These bastards! Ill kill you all!

One of the mercenaries pulled out his sword and tried to swing it at the assailant.

But strangely, his body wouldnt move properly, as if it were weighed down by heavy sandbags.

Before he could even lift his sword, an assailants blade had already grazed his neck.

A fountain of blood sprayed as the mercenarys body collapsed.

Dale shouted out.

Its paralysis! The soup was poisoned! Focus on defense!

Dale was suddenly charged by one of the assailants.

The assailant raised a warhammer, aiming to bring it down directly on Dales head.

It seemed as if Dale too was paralyzed.

But that was not the case. Dale swiftly stepped aside and, in a fluid motion, drew his hand axe before striking down at the assailants neck.

With a sickening sound, the well-sharpened blade of the axe sliced through flesh and bone altogether. Hot blood splattered on his face.

In that state, Dale turned his gaze towards another assailant.

Uh!

The sense of intimidation emitted by the dark knight covered in blood was extraordinary.

Could this be how the strong demons on the battlefield felt?

The assailants hesitated.

But Dale had no intention of waiting.

He kicked off the ground and charged at the assailants.

Caught off guard, one of the assailants hurriedly brandished his weapon. His sword traced a sharp trajectory through the air.

Dale tracked his movements keenly with his eyes.

And he decided. He would just take the hit.

Clang!

The blade struck the armor. It was a fairly strong blow, but utterly insufficient to pierce through his armor.

Huh?

Dale threw a punch at the assailant who wore a dumbfounded expression.

Crack!

With a dull sound, the assailants lower jaw was completely shattered.

Dale struck with his fist once more, completely crushing the assailants skull.

Blood splattered once again, soaking Dales armor.

Under normal circumstances, this would have been unpleasant to him, but the dark knights body reveled in the current slaughter.

Dale extended his arm and sunk his gauntlet into the assailants chest.

When he first fell into this world,

Dale had vowed not to absorb the life force of innocent people.

In other words, it was perfectly appropriate to take the life force of those who were not innocent.

The life force and residual soul force were drawn out from the assailants body and absorbed into Dale.

Dale felt a sense of fullness filling his cold heart.

Absorbing the life force of people felt completely different from taking that of monsters.

The dark knights body was more delighted by the life force of humans, and the soul force it contained was much denser.

Because the soul force was dense, sometimes interesting phenomena would occur.

For instance, showing the memories of that person.

The memories of the dead assailant flashed before Dales eyes.

As I suspected, he was one of Miles buddies.

Fragments of memories rapidly surfaced and then faded away.

The successful subjugation of an owlbear.

A feast held in the village to thank the mercenaries.

The village chiefs daughter which was too beautiful to be a mere country girl.

Miles losing his mind. Rape. Discovery. The villagers rage. Conflict. Massacre.

Miles blunder led to a fight with the villagers which then ended in their deaths. A truly messed-up situation.

It was an irreversible mistake, one that made it impossible to continue mercenary work.

The memory ended there, but imagining what followed wasnt difficult.

Miles team was planning one last big hit before giving up their mercenary life.

They lied to the guild, gathered other mercenaries and a priestess, and prepared paralyzing herbs.

Suddenly, Dale recalled something Miles had said.

We cant afford to damage such a goldmine.

Slaves were always in high demand during this era.

As long as one was physically fit, they could fetch a high price.

However, a variable emerged that disrupted Miles plan.

It was Dale.

So thats how it happened.

The whole story of the event was roughly understood.

In the end, it was all a farce orchestrated by Miles from start to finish.

Dale grasped his sword and scanned his surroundings.

Before he knew it, he was the only one left standing on both legs among his allies.

The mercenaries resisted valiantly but could not endure for long and fell to the sword.

The battle was significantly affected by the priestess being attacked right at the start and the impact of the paralyzing herbs.

Dale calmly assessed the situation.

There are four I should deal with. Three with iron badges and one with a bronze badge. The one with the bronze badge is a grade 3 warrior perhaps.

Dale raised his longsword and turned his head towards Miles.

Miles, whose skin was reddened from the hot soup being poured over him, glared in this direction.

Dale asked a question.

Just one thing.

What?

Why did you kill all the villagers? There surely were other ways to resolve this.

Miles contorted his face in frustration.

How on earth did you No, rather, what kind of shitty question is that?

I asked why you killed them.

Why does one need a reason to kill? They were weaker than me and it was beneficial, so I killed them.

Miles answered without hesitation. He didnt seem to have any sense of guilt.

Dale felt like he understood how Miles had lived and the kind of monster he had nurtured within himself.

Okay. I understand.

Dale gripped his longsword firmly.

It was time to feed the bad wolf inside him.