Episode 43: Jackson Cutter (1)
Jackson Cutter arrived at the Copperhead estate just a step behind Damian Haxen.
“They expect me to stay in this dump?”
Jackson Cutter fumed as he surveyed the tent the servant had shown him. It was cramped, with only a few worn leather mats covering the ground. The only furniture was a bed and a desk.
“Do they not know who I am? I’m Jackson Cutter, the Ogre Slayer!”
He shouted at the trembling servant, who stammered in response, “The butler is aware, sir.”
“And yet they put me in this place? Are they out of their minds?”
“Even if you tell me, there’s nothing I can do…”
The servant’s voice was tinged with helplessness. Jackson sighed deeply, realizing that venting his anger on the servant wouldn’t change anything.
“Get out of my sight.”
The servant hurriedly exited the tent, almost tripping over himself in his haste. As soon as he left, Jacques Noire entered.
“I could hear you from outside,” Jacques remarked in a flat tone.
“Master, they know who I am, yet they put me in this sorry excuse for a tent. How am I supposed to tolerate this? I have to protest—”
Jackson Cutter’s complaints were cut short as Jacques Noire grabbed him by the throat.
“Gah!”
“I let you off the leash for a while, and now you think you can whine to me? Do I look like someone who listens to complaints?”
“S-sorry… I’m sorry!”
Only then did Jacques release his grip. “Keep a low profile here. If you cause a scene and get thrown out of the tournament, I won’t forgive you.”
“Understood.”
“Remember, your goal is to win the jousting tournament.”
Jackson hesitated, then asked cautiously, “But Master, why do you want me to win the tournament? Could you at least tell me the reason?”
“It’s essential for my ambition.”
“Your ambition… You mean reaching the level of a Master?”
“Exactly.”
A Master. The pinnacle of human capability, a level so high it was almost mythical. Most would call it madness to even attempt it. But Jacques Noire’s expression was deadly serious.
“So how does me winning the tournament relate to your ambition…?”
Jacques shot him a glare, and Jackson quickly shut his mouth, knowing further questions would only lead to trouble.
“I’ll be investigating the Copperhead Earl and the other participants. You focus on preparing for the tournament.”
“Yes, Master.”
“And one more thing, ignore Damian Haxen if you encounter him.”
“What?”
Jackson looked at Jacques, bewildered. The whole reason he was participating in the tournament was to expose Damian Haxen for the fraud he believed him to be. It irked him that someone like Damian was more famous than he was.
“Damian Haxen is shrouded in too much mystery. He could be the biggest wildcard in this tournament,” Jacques said seriously. “So don’t engage with him until I’ve verified the rumors.”
“But… you saw him yourself, Master. You know how pathetic he is.”
Jacques had been nearby the day Jackson had beaten Damian to a pulp, watching the whole thing unfold. Yet he was giving such an order?
“Are you questioning my command?”
Jacques’s voice was laced with displeasure. Jackson quickly bowed his head.
“No, Master. I’m sorry.”
“Good.”
Jacques reiterated his point before leaving the tent. As soon as Jacques’s presence faded, Jackson muttered disdainfully, “Coward.”
Jacques always acted like this. Whenever something seemed suspicious, he would hold back. He must have been spooked by the rumors about Damian Haxen.
“And if you’re going to give orders, at least explain them. What does winning a jousting tournament have to do with becoming a Master?”
Their relationship was more like that of a master and a servant than a teacher and a student. Jacques had only taken Jackson under his wing to use him for his own ends.
“Just wait. Once I reach the Middle Class, I’ll be the one to take you down.”
Despite his contempt for Jacques, Jackson couldn’t deny the value of his teachings. Jacques had spent years researching swordsmanship and mana techniques to reach the level of a Master. His knowledge had elevated Jackson, once a mere thug, to the Low Class in no time.
Jackson’s goal was to learn more from Jacques and reach the Middle Class himself.
“Sitting around is just making me angrier.”
Jackson stormed out of the tent, only to run into Sophia Russell emerging from the tent opposite.
“Oh, Sophia. You needed some air too?”
“Jackson!”
Sophia exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms. Jackson embraced her.
“Staying cooped up in the tent was getting boring.”
“See? We think alike. I needed to get out too.”
“Great! Let’s go for a walk!”
Jackson wrapped an arm around Sophia’s waist, and the two strolled through the tournament grounds.
“Is that really Damian Haxen?”
Jackson found himself face-to-face with Damian Haxen.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he sneered.
As his face hit the ground, Jackson Cutter wondered how he had ended up like this.
The moment he grabbed Damian’s hand, he had summoned all his strength, intending to twist Damian’s arm and slam him to the ground. But instead, Jackson found himself on the receiving end, unable to comprehend how it had happened.
“J-Jackson!”
Sophia Russell screamed beside him. Jackson got to his feet, trying to reassure her.
“I’m fine. I’m perfectly—”
He staggered as he tried to stand. His head spun, and nausea welled up inside him.
“Oh, you’re tough. Took a hit to the jaw and you’re already up?”
Only then did Jackson realize. Damian hadn’t just thrown him to the ground. He had angled the blow to deliver maximum impact to his jaw.
“You son of a—!”
The Damian Haxen Jackson remembered was a pathetic fool, someone who had begged for mercy after being beaten. To be bested by such a person? It was the ultimate insult.
“So the rumors weren’t entirely false, huh?”
Jackson gritted his teeth, struggling to maintain his composure in the face of overwhelming rage.
“You’re not planning to end this with just a little scuffle, are you?”
Jackson reached for his sword hilt.
Damian glanced at his brother and shrugged. “Abel, you saw that? He was the one who went for his sword first.”
“Brother…”
Abel Haxen sighed but didn’t stop Damian.
“If you’re going to do it, make it count.”
“Of course.”
Damian stepped back, gesturing for Abel to move aside.
“Ready when you are.”
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
Even in his fury, Jackson couldn’t help but be puzzled. Damian wasn’t holding any weapon.
“You’re not drawing your sword?”
“For someone like you, this is enough.”
Damian raised a single finger. Jackson was momentarily baffled.
“You’re going to fight me with just one finger?”
“If that’s too much, I can switch to a twig.”
Damian glanced around as if looking for a stick. Jackson’s face flushed with anger.
“I’ll cut off all your fingers and make you eat them!”
Jackson drew his sword.
But just as he was about to charge, someone grabbed his wrist. Jackson turned, bewildered, to see Jacques Noire standing there.
“M-Master.”
Jacques didn’t respond to Jackson. His eyes were fixed solely on Damian Haxen, who returned the gaze.
Though he didn’t show it, Damian was impressed. As knights ascend in rank, the barriers grow steeper. It’s a hundred times harder for a Low Class to become a Middle Class than for a squire to become a Low Class. Thus, the higher the rank, the greater the disparity in skill.
A top-tier Middle Class knight could easily dispatch a lower-tier one.
‘Impressive. He’s leagues above that dark mage I encountered before.’
Damian thought of the leader of Yuran, a dark mage who had reached the seventh rank and specialized in combat. The man before him could easily defeat someone of that caliber.
“Remarkable.”
Jacques Noir broke the silence.
“Hard to believe that reckless fool has grown so strong in such a short time.”
His eyes scanned Damien with a newfound interest.
“I apologize on behalf of my student’s rude behavior.”
With that, Jacques Noir led Jackson Carter away, and Sophia Russell hurried to follow them.
“Abel, do you know who that guy is?”
“He’s a middle-class knight named Jacques Noir.”
Damien silently repeated the name to himself.
He had come here partly because of Abel, but also to seek revenge on Jackson Carter and Sophia Russell.
Naturally, this meant a clash with Jacques Noir was inevitable.
“Looks like I’ll finally get to see a real sword in action.”
A slight smile played on Damien’s lips.
It seemed this tournament would be anything but dull.