Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound Chapter 424

Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound Chapter 424

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]

Chapter 424: How to Live as a Wandering Knight (3)

...Thud!

A hard skull cracked open, spilling its warm contents onto the ground.

Poison Gnoll’s brains splattered across the floor as its body convulsed and finally lay still, cold and lifeless.

Following Poison Gnoll, the gnoll horde that had invaded human territory also soon became corpses.

Initially, the bodies of the gnolls had clean holes in their heads or hearts. However, as the battle wore on, their intestines and brains burst, leaving them in a gruesome state, reflecting the fierceness of the fight.

The Knight of the Night. Tudor, a wandering knight clad in black plate armor, sat atop the gnolls’ corpses, breathing heavily.

“...Fighting with one arm is really hard to get used to.”

With minimal sleep, constant traveling, and perpetual exhaustion, his facial expressions had gradually worn away.

Muttering in a dry voice, Tudor suddenly realized that his tone and speech resembled someone he remembered vividly, causing him to smile faintly.

“Is this it? Did that guy always live like this? Perhaps that’s why he was so cold and unemotional...”

Vikir. Night hound.

Even though quite some time had passed, Vikir’s face and voice were still vividly etched in his memory.

Tudor reminisced about his old comrade, who was expelled from the academy long ago and now likely imprisoned in Nouvellebag.

Ouch—

And every time he thought of him, the pain in his severed left arm flared up.

Tudor, the eldest son of the Donquixote Clan and the next head of the family, had abandoned his name and lineage.

He left his severed left arm at his family’s house.

“......”

Tudor recalled the stories he heard at a tavern before fighting the gnoll horde.

“I’ve heard rumors that both the Donquixote Clan and Usher families are in turmoil. It seems the current head of the family is bedridden with a serious illness. They say it’s severe, and he might not make it.”

“They are superhumans! In the realm of masters! They wouldn’t succumb to mere illness!”

“It’s been several years since those two have been active. I heard that Donquixote Clan’s younger brother and Usher’s younger sister are acting as leaders now.”

“Hmm, I’ve heard that too. Well, the main families of Donquixote Clan and Usher House don’t have many members, so I heard even the collateral branches hold significant power. Is that why?”

The sound of teeth grinding escaped Tudor’s mouth as he recalled those conversations.

Grit—

Anger surged within him. The phantom pain in his missing left arm intensified.

Tudor vividly remembered the night he left his family.

...Uncle Pasamonte, who was involved in transporting Vikir to Nouvellebag.

He was also the one who vehemently argued for Vikir’s death sentence at the court in the Imperial City.

After the trial, Tudor visited Pasamonte several times to discuss the demon controversy and Vikir’s punishment.

Even then, Tudor was in two minds.

Could his kind uncle, who had always been so gentle since his childhood, really be involved with demons?

The uncle who taught him about knighthood, romance, grand aspirations, and ambition?

(Es la misión del verdadero caballero. Su deber. ¡No! Su deber no. Su privilegio).Nêww chapters will be fully updated at novelhall.com

– It is the mission of the true knight. His duty. No! Not his duty, his privilege.

(Soñar lo imposible soñar.)

– To dream the impossible dream.

(Vencer al invicto rival,)

– To defeat the unbeatable foe,

(Sufrir el dolor insufrible,)

– To endure unbearable pain,

(Morir por un noble ideal.)

– To die for a noble ideal.

(Saber enmendar el error,)

The great famine, prolonged drought, massive wildfires spreading across the empire, and the monster hordes.

These events made human lives much harsher than what textbooks had ever taught.

A large man shoves a frail girl aside to take a piece of meat from a gnoll’s corpse.

The strong plundered and exploited the weak, treating them as less than human.

“The true strong are strong against the strong and weak against the weak.”

“The strong, being confident, do not oppress others, but the weak, hiding their weakness, bully others.”

These were words from the autobiography of an ancient figure of the Donquixote clan.

However, the reality was the complete opposite of the romantic ideals taught in chivalric literature.

The stronger a person was, the more they oppressed others, and the weaker a person was, the more injustices they faced.

Yet, this did not mean the weak were always good and kind.

Reality was very different from what Tudor had learned at the academy or within his family.

It was not the strong who survived but the survivors who were strong.

Such was the world now.

Tudor had encountered countless such human landscapes on the fierce battlefield, and the more he did, the more he felt his character becoming dry and cold.

It was the series of processes by which a once-dreaming hero aspirant became a battlefield veteran.

And why was it?

The more this happened, the more Tudor’s demeanor, speech, and voice resembled Vikir’s.

“Haha— I shouldn’t be imitating his way of speaking. It’s too stiff.”

Tudor forced a mischievous smile and stood up.

Just then.

“...Um, excuse me.”

Someone approached hesitantly.

When Tudor turned his head, there stood a little girl.

She was one of those who had barely survived the recent gnoll attack.

“Please, take this!”

The girl offered a large cup of clear water and bread sprinkled with herbs.

Water and herbs in these times? Tudor felt a lump in his throat.

“Is it alright for me to accept such precious things?”

“...Of course!”

Worried that her gift might be rejected, the girl answered with a bright smile.

Tudor drank the water and ate the bread.

It was a long journey back to the hideout where the Night Walkers gathered.

After Tudor finished his meal and stood up, he noticed quite a few people had gathered around.

“Sir Knight of the Night! Please take us with you!”

“We heard that if we follow the Night Walkers, there is water, food, and the blessings of the gods!”

“Please, have mercy on us...”

The gathered people were those who had no more homes to return to due to gnoll attacks, famine, and wildfires.

At a glance, the crowd seemed to comprise about 10% of the village’s population.

And Tudor nodded readily.

“Follow me.”

This was the very reason why the Knight of the Night had come so far.

A secret yet not-so-secret place where the Night Walkers gathered.

‘Only this place shall escape fire and water, and only here shall true salvation be achieved.’

It was the land of salvation described in the new revelations.

The mission was to relocate as many people as possible to the ark built by the ‘Saint of the Night.’

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]