Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound Chapter 422

Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound Chapter 422

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]

Chapter 422: How to Live as a Wandering Knight ()

On the surface, in the remote village of Wakewalk in the southern continent.

This village, which always enjoyed abundant fruit harvests due to its warm and humid climate, had been suffering from an unprecedented drought and famine for the past few years.

The extreme drought had dried up the land, causing it to crack open. Trees and grass had not only withered and died but had also burned to a crisp.

Massive wildfires had set the mountains ablaze and dried up lakes, leading to the mass death of both land and aquatic animals.

Due to the numerous dungeons that had opened up everywhere, the damage from monsters had skyrocketed.

Whiiiing—

Hot and dry winds carried ashes in the air.

The winds brought the sharp ashes from the mountain range, which had turned into a pile of charcoal due to the wildfires.

These pungent ashes, blown by the wind, sucked up the remaining bits of moisture and further deteriorated people’s spirits.

......And then.

There was a traveler crossing that desolate wasteland.

Beneath his tattered, flapping black cloak, a dull black armor could be seen.

A long, stork-beaked plague doctor mask hung below his waist, and a long object wrapped in bandages was strapped to his back.

Clank— Clank—

With each weary step he took, the sound of his armor’s joints clinking faintly echoed.

He was a wandering knight. A silent figure. During these difficult times, such figures, though not common, could be seen occasionally.

The wandering knight in black armor, with his tired steps, arrived at Wakewalk.

He headed straight for the nearest tavern, opened the dried-up wooden door, and took a seat in a corner.

Due to the famine, drought, wildfires, and monster damage, the village’s food situation was dire.Fôll0w current novÊls on n/o/(v)/3l/b((in).(co/m)

This was clearly reflected in the tavern’s offerings of drinks and snacks.

Two handfuls of boiled beans on a chipped plate and a glass of flat beer.

This was the modest luxury that could only be enjoyed by paying for it at the tavern.

The wandering knight, after confirming that his mask was securely fastened to his waist, quietly drank his beer.

At that moment.

Sounds of conversation began to emanate from the central table of the tavern.

Two men, who appeared to be members of the vigilante corps, were having a conversation.

Taverns have always been hotbeds of rumors, both in the past and present.

Many would agree that idle men often engage in heated debates about politics once they get drunk.

“So, are you a conservative or a progressive?”

“Me? I’m always on the progressive side. What about you?”

“Ha! What a question. I’m a conservative, through and through!”

They expressed their respective views on the current continental situation, clashing with each other.

“Of course, the throne should be inherited by the legitimate heir! Isn’t it obvious that we should support the First Prince? Donquixote Clan, Usher House, and Reviadon Clan doing the right thing!”

“I think the Second Prince is a decent choice too. I understand the choices of Baskerville, Morg, Bourgeois, and Quovadis.”

“Ha! Are you saying it was right for them to stage a coup?”

“A coup? It’s just a matter of choosing sides. It’s a political struggle, so calling it a civil war would be more accurate.”

“So, you’re saying it’s right for the Seven Great clans to engage in a civil war in these times! And the Second Prince they support hasn’t even shown himself to the imperial citizens for decades! I’m starting to doubt if he even exists anymore!”

“Oh, how disrespectful. Isn’t the First Prince’s faction also waging a civil war in these times? Why blame only the Second Prince’s faction for that?”

Public sentiment was deteriorating to its worst.

Yet, amid this turmoil, a glimmer of hope emerged among the people.

“Alright, let’s stop talking about all this grim stuff.”

“Exactly. It’s just talk about those high and mighty folks anyway.”

“Have you heard that rumor?”

“What rumor?”

“About the vigilantes roaming across the continent.”

“We’re vigilantes ourselves, aren’t we?”

“Come on, not us amateurs. I’m talking about the heroes operating throughout the entire empire.”

“Heroes, really? In these times? That’s just nonsense.”

“No, listen up!”

There was a hopeful rumor soothing the hearts of people devastated by natural disasters.

It was about the civilian group and vigilante force known as the “Night Walkers.”

“They say these vigilantes travel thousands of kilometers a day, exterminating monsters. They’re supposedly incredibly strong.”

“How is that even possible?”

“It is! I was in the city across the way, and they showed up and wiped out a horde of monsters! Not only that, but they took refugees with them, providing food, water, and even divine blessings! They say half the city’s population followed them!”

“Well, if such heroes exist, why haven’t they shown up in our village? We’re dying from all these plagues.”

“...Maybe there are too few of them, and the disaster areas are too vast.”

“Yeah, let’s go with that. We need some hope to hold on to.”

The only group garnering the people’s support was the vigilante force known as the “Night Walkers.”

These mysterious individuals, united under the slogan “Even the strongest darkness is driven away by the weakest light,” were known by somewhat childish nicknames like the “Saint of the Night,” the “Knight of the Night,” the “Sniper of the Night,” the “Warrior of the Night,” the “Wealth of the Night,” and the “Queen of the Night,” traveling all over the continent.

Like the Pied Piper from the old fairy tales, they whispered promises of salvation and led many people away to distant lands.

People waited for them with a mix of anticipation and fear.

They hoped and yet were wary.

Admiration, curiosity, hope, anxiety, caution, fear... or merely dismissed as a foolish rumor, these sentiments followed them everywhere.

Just then—

...Bang!

The tavern door burst open as if it would break, and a vigilante soldier rushed in.

“Attack! We’re under attack! It’s gnolls!”

At the same time, the sound of a conch shell signaling a monster attack began to resonate throughout the village.

Bwooooooo—

Even before the sound reached them, the people in the tavern sprang into action.

The two soldiers who had been arguing about politics moments before hurriedly grabbed their swords and spears and dashed outside, while the tavern owner abandoned everything and fled to the storage room.

“Everyone, to the underground cellar!”

The patrons in the tavern, faces pale with fear but movements practiced and familiar, followed the tavern owner toward the hatch in the floor.

......

The tavern fell silent in an instant.

Creak—

It was then that the wandering knight, who had been sitting like a statue in the corner, finally moved.

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]